Chapter Six
DARCY
“Happy birthday, Darcy!” Janine strides up to my desk, a white envelope in one hand and a bunch of pink roses in the other.
She places the card down on top of my keyboard and hands me the bouquet.
“A little birdie told me you don’t like chocolate all that much, so we got you these, and there’s a voucher inside the card. ”
When I open the card, a one-hundred-dollar gift voucher for Macy’s falls out.
“Since the fall weather will start to draw in soon, we figured you could use it to put toward a scarf or hat or maybe some new earmuffs for when you head out at night with your friends. New York gets cold really quickly this time of year.” Penelope smiles sweetly at me.
I stand quickly and head over to hug them all, each of them taken by surprise when I pull them into me. “It’s a really sweet gift. I wasn’t expecting anything, to be honest.”
“Well, actually”—Sienna thumbs behind her—“when I used the restroom a second ago, I noticed there was another package being delivered for you. I think you can expect a call from reception at any moment.”
I head back to my desk, checking my email and messages. “I’ve not heard anything.”
Sienna nods confidently. “They probably haven’t had the time to let you know yet, but the delivery guy definitely said your name.” She chuckles. “I don’t know what it is, but good luck getting it home.”
My interest officially at an all-time high, I thank my colleagues and boss once more and head for reception. There’s no way Mum, Jon, or Jack would mail my gift directly to work …
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the desk.
Becky, our friendly receptionist, swivels around in her chair and instantly clicks her fingers. “Ah, yes! Darcy. I just took a package for you.” She raises both brows, a soft but excitable grin threatening to emerge. “I have no idea who this is from, but, girl, you’re living the dream.”
She reaches beneath her desk and pulls out a large white box. “It’s not actually that heavy. I think the supplier overdid it on packaging.”
I stand motionless. “Did the delivery guy say who it was from?”
Becky shakes her head. “No. The only name he gave was yours.” She spins the box around, revealing Saks printed in black. “Like I said, living the dream.”
On an uncertain smile, I take the relatively light box and walk it back to my desk, all the while running over who could’ve bought me this.
As much as my girls—Collins, Jenna, and Kendra—love me, there’s no way they’d go shopping at Saks.
None of us have that kind of budget on our salaries.
Possibly Collins, but she wouldn’t be seen dead in a department store.
I return to empty desks but decide I’m not waiting around for Sienna and Penelope and quickly grab a pair of scissors, slicing the heavy-duty tape.
The box is filled with packing peanuts and white tissue paper, which I push to one side.
Oh Lord.
A medium-sized tan leather Saint Laurent tote. This style costs in excess of three thousand dollars. Easily.
Pulling it from the packaging, I root around for a card or anything to indicate who sent me this.
Nothing.
Elbows braced on the desk, I clasp my hands under my chin and stare at the beautiful handbag, convinced this has to be some kind of mix-up. If Dad had sent me anything, especially like this, he sure would’ve let me know it was from him.
Still clueless and kind of emotional over the most luxurious gift I’ve ever received, I pick up my phone and take a picture, sending it to my girls.
Me: So, this just happened. Any idea who it’s from? *picture attached*
Jenna: Ah, yes, that’s from me. I spent an entire two months’ wages on it. Love ya, babe.
Me: Are you being for real?
Jenna: No, I am not. I actually need money to eat.
Collins: I don’t even know what brand that is, let alone would I head out and buy one.
Me: Saint Laurent? Everyone knows it!
Collins: Do they manufacture motorcycles?
Me: No. I don’t think so.
Collins: Exactly.
Kendra: I have died and gone to designer-bag heaven.
Me: Not from you and Jack then?
Kendra: Or Felicity and Jon. I know what they got you, and it isn’t that.
Puzzled, I rack my brain for a possible sender.
Jenna: Don’t shoot the messenger here, but do you think it could be from Liam? Maybe he wants you back, and this is his way of trying.
I genuinely snort at the ridiculous notion of my shitty ex even thinking about me, never mind trying to win me back with a gesture like this.
Me: I think I have more of a chance of it being from that hottie at the bar the other night.
Jenna: The one who disappeared out of sight when we got back from the restroom?
Collins: You never did tell us what Archer was doing there.
By the time they returned from their escape to the toilet, Archer had left, claiming he was heading back home alone since the guys weren’t up for a house party. The rest of the night passed in a blur as I chewed over our conversation. I can still feel the way he looked at me now.
I brush off the butterflies and get back to the text chat.
Me: Like I told you, he saw us on his way home and stopped by to say hi.
Jenna: That boy is weird. Hot as hell, but weird.
Collins: I just think he’s misunderstood.
Jenna: Really? I think he likes to get it on with anything that moves and thinks a lot of himself.
Collins: Jenna, are you trying to tell us you want a piece of the goalie?
Something about that last message from Collins doesn’t sit well with me.
Kendra: Anyway, back to the bag. I agree with Darcy. I don’t think it’s from Liam.
Me: Then who the hell is it from?! How can I thank an anonymous sender?
Jenna: Maybe they don’t want to be thanked.
Collins: Are you sure there’s nothing else in the box? Like an invoice or receipt or something?
Me: Positive.
Collins: I’m clueless then. We might have to put a pin in our investigation until the party this weekend. We can ask around then.
The birthday party Jack and Kendra are throwing for me at their place. The one I have no clue what to wear to. I guess at least my bag is sorted.
Me: Okay, well, I’d better get back to work.
Collins: Happy birthday, babe. I’ll bring your gift with me on Saturday night! Ezra picked it out, so you can be sure it’s cool as fuck.
I smile at Collins’s text. That girl and her future stepson are inseparable, and it’s truly heartwarming, especially after he lost his mum at such a young age.
Jenna: Me too! Have a fun one. I wish we could go out tonight, but the season is kicking our asses right now. Promise we’ll make it up to you.
I close out the thread, only for another message to appear. This one directly from Kendra.
Kendra: I think I might know who that bag is from.
I sit up straighter in my chair.
Me: You do?
Kendra: If I’m correct, well, it’s potentially all kinds of awkward. And if I’m wrong … let’s just say, it’s still awkward because I’ll have put my foot in my mouth. But you’re my family and friend, and I feel like I should be honest.
My mind races away from me, causing my fingers to slip on the keyboard as I type out a response.
Me: Okay, freaking out right now …
Kendra: I’m pretty sure it’s from Archer.
Me: A three-thousand-dollar designer bag?!
The second I hit Send, I think over her suggestion. He did give me his Amex that time. Sure, he was wasted, but he told me to go buy whatever I wanted with it.
Kendra: Girl, he earns more than Jack as center and assistant captain. Last season, he signed a record-breaking contract with the Blades. He’s one of the best in the league, and he’s been there for seven seasons. He can afford it, trust me.
Me: I guess it’s feasible. But why?
Kendra: You are Mensa-level genius. Are you seriously asking me this question right now?
Me: I’m also scatterbrained. Intellectual intelligence does not necessarily translate into equal levels of common sense.
Kendra: True. I’ll never forget the time you found your car keys in the fridge.
Me: See? Case in point.
Kendra: He wants you. Plain and simple.
Me: Wants to fuck? I mean, that’s hardly surprising. He wants to fuck a lot of girls, and blondes are his type. But we both know he wouldn’t go there. Not with the potential ramifications he’d face. You know what I’m referring to …
Kendra: Yes, I can’t argue with you on that. I’m just saying, I think this bag is from him. I also think he’s struggling to keep ahold of himself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is an indication of his wavering willpower.
More memories of the way he looked at me in the cocktail bar resurface, but I’m still doubtful and confused over Kendra’s suggestion that the bag might be from Archer. He was drunk when he gave me the credit card. Sober Archer would definitely know the limits with his teammate’s baby sister.
Right?
I’m tempted to tell Kendra about my conversation with Archer, but more doubt stops me.
I’ve likely misinterpreted all the signals from that night.
He probably was being a concerned friend, and it’s just me getting ahead of myself because I find the guy hot and intriguing, and that revelation has knocked what I thought I knew about him off course.
Me: Can you stop talking in riddles, please?
Kendra: Listen, I can’t say it’d be more than sex with him because I don’t know, and to be honest, I can’t blame Jack for being worried.
Archer Moore would tear through the New York volleyball team given half a chance.
I think the guy wants what he can’t have, and he isn’t used to that. Obviously. Just proceed with caution …
Me: You think he bought me a bag to convince me to sleep with him?!
Kendra: No, not exactly. He clearly likes you, and he has money to burn.
Ugh, I don’t know. I could be way off the mark with this.
Forget I said anything. I’m not trying to paint him in a bad light; I’m just trying to be a friend and counsel you to keep your head on.
I wouldn’t put it past him to make a move.
Me: I have zero idea what to do with that information. Or this bag for that matter.
Kendra: Accept the gift and maybe ask him about it this Saturday.
Me: He’s coming to the party?
Kendra: Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?
Me: I don’t know. I figured he’d have better things to do than celebrate me randomly turning twenty-four and blowing out a few candles on a cake.
Kendra: I refer you to our above conversation.