Chapter Five
DARCY
Mum always said I’d be late to my own funeral, and as I push through the doors of a random but very plush cocktail bar in Williamsburg, I once again prove her right.
“Nice of you to join us …” Jenna looks down at her watch, one brow raised, her long, dark hair sleek and styled to perfection. “Nearly a half hour after we planned.”
She passes me a room-temperature cosmopolitan she must’ve ordered a while back, and I take a large sip, downing nearly half of it in one go.
Jenna’s bright blue eyes bug out as she looks between Kendra and Collins.
My colleagues might not be all that fussed about us spending time together, but I definitely hit the jackpot with these three girls.
They’re my people, and I owe Jack a solid for bringing Kendra and, consequently, Jenna and Collins into my life.
Without a word, Collins takes my glass and sniffs the pink liquid that matches the color of her wavy, shoulder-length hair. “It’s not a mocktail. I’d say our girl Darcy is getting wasted tonight.”
I take the glass back and finish the entire thing, causing Kendra to burst out laughing.
“Stressful day?” she asks.
My shoulders slump as I replace the glass back on the bar we’re all standing next to. “Could say that. My boss is a taskmaster, and I swear she leaves errors in articles just to test my proofreading abilities.”
Collins nods her head in understanding, her perfectly winged eyeliner creasing around the corners when she smiles. I know she can relate to asshole bosses—her last one, before she opened her own Harley-Davidson garage, was a complete prick.
I wouldn’t say Janine, my boss, is a prick or even an asshole. I just feel like she singles me out to do a lot of the heavy lifting while Penelope and Sienna get the easy ride.
“You know, it’s possible she puts a lot of the work your way because she has faith in you and sees your potential in the industry. She was the one who hired you and gave you the chance, no?”
I guess it’s hard to argue with Jenna’s logic—Janine did interview and offer me the position at Glide . “Yep, you’re right; she did.”
I turn to the bar and lift a hand toward the barman. The next round for my girls is on me. His attention obtained, I focus back on Jenna.
“But I can’t see myself staying in fashion editing. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. But I do have other plans.”
They all look between them.
“Like what?” Collins asks, bringing a mojito to her mouth and pausing. “With a brain like yours, I expect you to say rocket science.”
I snort a laugh and ask the barman for a repeat of the last order.
“No, I like maths to be more of a hobby. I have aspirations for my own business one day. Ideally, I’d love to offer independent authors services, specifically in developmental editing.
” I smile brightly. “You know how much I love to read, and my brain can’t help but dream up stories and plotlines.
I think that’s my happy place, and ultimately, it’s why I chose English over maths at university. ”
“It is the superior subject, hence why I avoided sports,” Kendra agrees, a small sigh leaving her lips. “There’s just something about getting lost in the pages of literature. I say go for it. Follow your dreams, Darce.”
“That’s how I feel about bikes. I go to another part of my brain when I’m around them, riding, fixing, even detailing,” Collins adds. “I couldn’t imagine doing a job I hated. I feel really lucky to have found my passion.”
The drinks are placed on the bar next to us, and I begin handing them around.
“Speaking of getting lucky …” I nod my head at Jenna and then at a group of twenty-something guys, all professionals and dressed in suits. “As the only other singleton in our group, what’s your opinion on the hotties at two o’clock?”
Kendra tips her head over her shoulder.
“Don’t fucking look!” I swat her on the arm. “We need to play it nice and cool.”
I can’t be sure if the particularly handsome guy in the group spotted Kendra looking or heard my outburst, but when he glances over and smiles at me, I instinctively offer one in return.
“Oh, you are so in there.” Jenna dips her head at me, flicking her eyes to Mr. Handsome.
“You think?” I ask, likely a little too enthusiastically.
“I know so.” She nods. “I have a thing for boys with glasses and tattoos, so I’ll take him.” She subtly motions to a different guy perched at the end of the table.
Collins clears her throat, quirking a brow at Jenna. “Are you telling me you’re into my fiancé?”
A couple seconds pass before we all fall about laughing.
“Ooh, looks like Mr. Handsome is making his way over here,” Jenna croons, waggling her brows at me. “Someone’s getting dicked down tonighhhh …”
She trails off, and I track her gaze as it leads away from the dark-haired hottie and toward the entrance.
Archer.
“W-what is he doing here?” I ask, stuttering my words.
Through the sea of people crammed into this bar, his eyes lock on mine the moment the door closes behind him.
He looks dreamy—so good that I forget about the gorgeous man now only a few feet away in favor of the mildly insane Blades goalie.
He’s dressed in an open-necked white shirt that reveals a platinum chain he always wears, and his dark hair is styled away from his face.
And when his upper lip quirks, I’m confident his cocky smile is the reason so many women’s panties melt right off.
Kendra closes her eyes, clearing her throat. She looks like she’s about to say something when the mystery guy slides up alongside me, raising a welcoming hand at everyone.
“Hey, I’m Harry.” He turns to me, confidence flowing from him. “Can I get you a drink …” He waits for me to confirm my name.
“Jessica.” A deep voice gets there before I can.
Wait. Jessica?
All heads—including mine—dart to Archer as he hovers behind Collins and Kendra.
“Her name is Jessica,” he repeats.
“I-I’m just going to go use the, umm … the restroom.” Kendra thumbs over her shoulder.
“Yep, the need to pee is real,” Jenna agrees.
“And I need to … well, I need to get out of this dead-ass awkward environment,” Collins adds, always the honest one.
Archer watches my friends leave for the restroom and then resets his focus back on Harry. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to work out why the hell he called me Jessica. I only ever use that name when I want to conceal who I really am because of my brother. But how would Archer know that?
Harry motions between us. It’s obvious he’s already regretting walking over here. “You know each other?”
Shoving both hands into his pockets, Archer grins at me, waiting for me to go first.
I grin back at him mockingly. “I’ve never met this man before in my life,” I say to Harry.
Throwing his head back to the ceiling, Archer releases a single laugh that practically grinds the rest of the bar to a halt.
“Yeah, I’m going to …” Face flushed red, Harry points toward his table. “I’m obviously stepping on toes here so I’m going to see myself out. Nice to meet you, Jessica.” He throws me a weak smile and scurries off.
I take a second before looking at Archer, kind of pissed at the way he bulldozed in.
“Why are you here?” I eventually ask, still not making full eye contact with him, although I can sense his proximity and the intensity of his weighted gaze.
When I finally look at his face, I can see he wants to say something but quickly checks himself. “I was walking back home and saw you.” He cocks his head toward the large window on my left. “I stopped to say hi and could see you were in need of rescuing.”
I really should be fuming at him and his assumptions. “Decided against the after-party at yours then?” I gibe. “And to be clear, I didn’t need rescuing. I was actually into Harry.”
Ignoring my dig, he steps closer as his jaw tics, only a foot or so away from me now. His heated gaze drops down the length of my black suit dress since I came here directly from work, and he takes his time ascending my body, eyes finding mine once more.
“Have I misjudged you? Are you a bit of a playgirl, Darcy Thompson?”
I roll my lips together, not missing his flirtatious tone, but liking it all the same. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. I’ve spoken to Archer more times than I can count, but there’s a darkness in his eyes I haven’t seen before.
“Maybe I am. I thought you of all people wouldn’t judge that.”
He puffs out a humorless breath, pulling a hand from his pocket and scrubbing it across his mouth. “He isn’t what you want, Darce.”
I prop a sassy hand on my hip. “Oh, yeah? And what makes you say that? I’m single and free to go with who I please. As are you.”
Archer looks uncomfortable, jaw switching from a tic to more of a grind. “I don’t think it’s a smart move, going home with strange guys. They can be weird. Even dangerous.”
I choose to ignore that and focus on the real issue troubling me. “Why did you say my name was Jessica?”
He looks at me like I should know. “Why? Is it a significant name to you?” he asks, lips tipping up into a wry smile.
This guy’s cheekiness shouldn’t be so appealing to me, and neither should his intensity.
Suddenly, I’m thinking less about the importance of the name I use from time to time and more about the depth of the man standing in front of me.
There’s more to Archer than meets the eye, and for the first time, I’m fascinated.
Reaching forward, I replace my glass on the bar, pushing down my intrigue. “Yeah, well, thanks for cockblocking me tonight.”
Archer’s eyes sparkle with delight. “But you don’t have a cock, so technically, I didn’t.”
“Pussy preventer—that’s what you are,” I volley back.
Genuinely, I think he might wet himself. “Oh jeez,” he wheezes, holding up a hand. “Darce, have mercy on me.”
I wait for him to stop laughing, hand still propped on my hip. “So, let me get this straight. First, you walk into this bar, wanting to simply say hi. Then you fuck up my hookup, and now you’re taking the pee out of me. Way to make friends, Archer.”
As I finish my sentence, his cackling stops, and his head whips up to mine. “You consider me a friend?”
I shrug. How could we not be? We’ve always gotten along, especially since I moved to Brooklyn. “Of course I consider you a friend.”
He doesn’t seem satisfied with my response, shifting even closer. I can smell his spicy cologne, one that reminds me of the Dior fragrance Johnny Depp promotes. It’s hot as fuck.
“You want to be my friend, Darcy?” His voice takes on a darker edge, and I wobble a little on my ridiculous designer heels.
“Absolutely,” I reply, a touch shakily.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his ears like the previous time. “Then take some advice from me. Someone four years older?—”
“For now,” I interject. “I’m twenty-four in a few days.”
Archer doesn’t look surprised at that fact. “Okay, well, three years older.” He pauses, blue eyes turning as dark as the deepest part of the ocean. “Don’t sell yourself short for guys who only want a one-and-done arrangement. They aren’t worth it.”
The fervency in his voice renders me speechless.
“I should know because …” He pauses, swallowing once. “Because there’s no way I, the biggest playboy in the NHL, would ever view you like that.”
His words remind me of a conversation we had back in October in another cocktail bar.
He told me Liam wasn’t worth it, and I agreed with him.
Back then, I interpreted it as the kind of comment anyone would say to their heartbroken friend.
Though that’s not how our exchange feels tonight; there’s more to his voice, more meaning in his body language, than simply a friend wanting to look out for someone they care about.
And that piques my intrigue further.
My throat feels thick as I reply, “That’s exactly what you do with girls though.”
He shifts his weight, looking off through the window and out into the darkened street. “Not all girls, Darcy.”
When he says my name, his head turns to face me, and I feel his weighted gaze all the way to my toes. I’ve never felt a sensation like this before in my life. Not even with Liam.
“Some girls don’t really want that kind of man. They just think they do because that feels like the safe option after their previous guy did the dirty on them.”
“And you think that’s what I’m doing?” I reply, my voice now as thick as my throat feels.
Rolling his shoulders back, Archer chews on his bottom lip.
“I do.” He tips his head at the table Harry and his friends are sitting around, now eyeing up a group of different girls.
“Every woman has a motive when she goes home with someone, just like every guy does. All I’m saying is, some reasons are healthier than others.
I could always pick out the women who were fucking to forget from the ones who genuinely wanted no strings attached. ”
I grab my cocktail glass and take a long sip, hoping the alcohol will flush away some of the truths Archer just unearthed.
“I am genuinely looking for fun,” I push out. “I’m not ready for anything serious, but equally, that doesn’t mean I have to wear a chastity belt.”
Back to grinning, he reaches out, taking my empty glass and sliding it back onto the bar. “I never said you did have to abstain from getting with guys. I merely suggested that you’re careful to be sure you pick the right one.”
I wave a finger at him, convinced I’ve found a flaw in his argument. “Right one? As in singular?”
Archer offers a nonchalant shrug. “Perhaps that’s all you need—one guy who can rock your world in all the ways your ex couldn’t”—he tips his chin at Harry again—“along with most of the guys in this city.”
The heat rising to my cheeks contradicts the lighthearted scoff I give him.
I know he’s right, but that’s an ideal scenario I’ll never have.
That’s tantamount to a knight in shining armor who cares only about the girl and nothing else.
You can only find that kind of shit in the movies and not in real life. Liam is living proof of that.
“Well, when you find my Mr. One Size Fits All, then please let me know. Because I’d love to meet him.”