30. Piper
Piper
T he voices of Archie’s friends—my friends, too?
—buzz in the background as he and I look at each other in the living room.
The scent of fish and red onion lingers in the air, reminding me of the incredible meal Archie made for me while also stinking a bit.
It’s a strange combination—kind of like Archie and me.
We know each other, but mostly through the ways we’ve hurt each other.
And, yet, the idea of working with him is tempting.
The only way I’ll ensure I’m the one who gets credit for my designs is if I have my own label.
My own company. But I don’t have the kind of name-recognition or connections that Archie does.
Or the kind of capital he has access to simply by being Malcolm Forsythe’s son.
Assuming Malcolm doesn’t burn all the bridges Archie might use to get financing now that Malcolm’s refusing to let Archie have his own money, or even his own life.
The injustice of what Malcolm’s done to Archie makes me want to work with Archie just to get back at him. If we were successful, that would be the perfect revenge for both of us.
But that’s not a good enough reason to toy with the idea of being part of Bombora.
The front door closes, and Frankie walks back into the room. She looks between Archie and me, still sitting side-by-side even though everyone is gone and there’s plenty of space on the couch. The corner of her mouth tugs into a grin, and Archie scoots to the elbow of the sectional sofa.
“I reckon I’ll head to bed.” There’s a laugh in Frankie’s grin.
“It’s still early.” Archie’s eyes dart from her to me.
“You two have a lot to talk about, and I’m wiped.” Frankie lets out a yawn to prove her point, but I don’t buy it. She is an actress, after all.
Archie and I watch her leave, then our eyes slowly meet.
“Stella’s idea is bonkers, yeah,” he asks nervously. My mind has been wandering, but he’s still looking at me. “We have similar visions about sustainability and environmentally friendly clothes, but can you imagine working for me?”
I tilt my head. “Working for you?”
Archie’s brow wrinkles. “Yeah. That’s the gist of what Stella said.”
I snort. “That’s what you heard.”
Archie’s brow creases, then quickly smooths with a laugh. “See? Bonkers idea. We can’t even agree on what we both heard.”
He stands and walks to the kitchen, leaving me stunned. He’s wrong on so many levels. I push myself from the couch and follow him.
“You’re the one who said working together was crazy. I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” I say to his back as he opens the fridge.
He faces me again with a jar of pickles in his hands. “But you said you wanted your own line under your own name.” With a slow twist of his wrist, the jar lid pops.
A whiff of vinegar hits my nose, and I step back. The smell is still strong, but with the distance, it’s more briny than vinegary. Closer to the ocean at high tide, which starts the wheels turning in my head.
“Working for you would be very different from working together,” I say slowly, trying to stay focused on our conversation while also not losing the thread of an idea I’ve just had.
“Stella’s got me excited about building my own brand.
The only way I’d design for Bombora is if I got credit as the designer.
But…I might consider designing under the Bombora name if I had the title of partner next to my name. ”
Archie raises an eyebrow as he digs a pickle from the jar. “You’d want to build Bombora together?”
I shrug and step close enough that only the jar is between us. “Just because we hate each other doesn’t mean it couldn’t work.”
Archie grins down at me. “That was you hating me back there in the gym?”
His eyes move to my lips, scouting out where he’d like his mouth to explore. Forget that we’ve been at war for years, I’m ready to put that aside and go exploring together. Adventure awaits, and I am here for it.
“Maybe I don’t hate you as much as I thought I did.” I bite my bottom lip and tempt him closer.
Still holding a pickle in one hand, Archie sets the jar on the counter behind him so there’s nothing between us anymore except a small space so charged with electricity I hear buzzing.
“I’ve put a lot of planning in already,” he says in a voice that makes me forget everything we’ve talked about besides kissing.
“I’ve got a business proposal in the works.
What’s my incentive for letting you step in as a partner? ”
The word partner snaps me out of my trance.
I swipe the pickle from between his fingers, my new idea fully formed.
“Because instead of releasing the New York-inspired designs Valente stole, I’ll create a California-inspired line using the same boro techniques, but without the risk of Valente claiming I’d stolen from them.
” I take a bite of the pickle and smile.
“When they release their line in six months, they’ll risk looking like they’ve copied me . ”
Archie’s eyes widen. “That’s brilliant, Piper.”
“Thank you. The best part is the new designs will be perfect for an up-and-coming surf wear brand.” I give him a pointed look then take another bite of the pickle. I don’t even like pickles, but I’m enjoying this one almost as much as I’m enjoying the pleased look on Archie’s face.
“I can do a soft launch with a limited supply and a promise that Piper Quinn designs will be available exclusively under the Bombora brand when it launches.” I hand the pickle back to him.
“Or I can launch under my own name and build something by myself. But I think we’ll both have a better chance of success if we combine forces. ”
His slow grin stops my pulse. “You’ve got killer instinct, Piper.”
The admiration in his voice hits me even harder than his grin. It’s one thing to have Archie clearly attracted to me. It’s another thing all together to have him compliment my abilities. This is such unfamiliar territory that the only way I know how to respond is by joking.
“Why, Archie Forsythe, aren’t you full of compliments tonight?” I say in a high voice while fanning my face and batting my eyelashes.
Archie laughs.
“When did you start being so nice?” I ask.
His grin deepens and hunger fills his eyes again.
My breath hitches, and I drop my act. I lean forward, tilt my chin, lick my lips; all but beg Archie to kiss me. Every nerve catches fire with the anticipation of finally receiving what he teased me with hours ago.
He’s not grinning anymore. His chest rises and falls in short breaths. The green in his eyes dances between spring sage and evergreen. I want to capture all the variations and color them into my designs with traces of the red-orange flames coursing through my veins.
“Piper,” Archie whispers, then brushes my cheek with the tips of his fingers, tracing them down my neck, to the thin tan line at my collarbone. “I really want to kiss you.”
“I really want you to kiss me,” I say breathlessly.
His mouth twitches as if he might smile, and I close my eyes, waiting.
Then his hands go to my shoulders, and he gently moves me back. I open my eyes. The pained expression on his face dashes all my expectations.
“If we kiss, everything changes…”
I put more distance between us, flushing now from embarrassment instead of expectation. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Archie shakes his head slowly. “Not when we’ve got big decisions to make.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We can’t let any…” he swallows hard, “ attraction influence our decision whether we build Bombora together or do our own thing.” He stops long enough to worry at his lip. “And if I’m going back to Aus, it’s really not a good idea to start anything.”
“You don’t have to go back. If I can get Mom to agree to a cash settlement, you’ll have the house back. Malcolm’s gotta be desperate to settle by now. He’ll agree.” I’m grasping at straws.
The truth is, the only person I know who’s desperate is me.
“Piper…” Archie looks at me as though I’m missing something. “Until the divorce is final, you’re still my stepsister.”
He winces at the word, and my face warms to an erupting-volcano temperature. I take another step back.
“I sort of forgot that.”
Archie nods. “I don’t see you that way anymore, but technically…”
“We’re still related.” I shake my hands like I’ve discovered used gum under a desk.
“Not by blood!” Archie is quick to add.
“Right, right, right, right…” I back slowly away. “I’m going upstairs now to work on the ideas I’ve got for a California line.”
“Yep, yep. Good on ya’.” Archie nods. “I’ll just clean up a bit in here.” He circles his hand to indicate the kitchen. “While I think on what you’ve said.”
I look at the mess in the kitchen. I’m tempted to help him, but his eyes warn me not to stay, and I decide he’s capable of cleaning up on his own.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” I dart upstairs, passing Archie’s smirk in the giant “Surf City” print on my way. The image follows me to my room, where I flop onto my bed.
I used to hate that smirk. Now I want to kiss it.
What is wrong with me?
A lot. So, so many things because I’m still wishing I were down in the kitchen with my mouth pressed to Archie’s, nibbling the spot on his bottom lip he has a habit of chewing.
I can almost feel his arms around my waist—like they were before dinner—my chest pressed to his, preferably, shirtless one.
Our breath still mingling when we break for air.
I sit and shake my head to loosen the grip thoughts of Archie has on me. I grab my sketchbook and pencils and throw myself into reworking a few of my designs into pieces that have a more laid back, beachy, California vibe.
As the ideas grow, I take out my iPad and open the 3D program I use when I’m ready to really design.
Sketching gets my creative juices flowing, but I don’t have a lot of time.
Even with reworking what I already have, if I want to release a line of boro-inspired clothes before Valente does, I have to create five to ten new designs quickly.
What took me an entire semester to do in college, I’ll have to do in a matter of days.
Around midnight, I take a break to make myself some coffee. I don’t want to stop and risk losing my momentum, so I’ll work as long as I can…with a lot of caffeine to help.
When I walk into the kitchen, Archie is at the table, hunched over his laptop. He’s changed into his sweatpants—trackies, he calls them—and out of his shirt.
“Hey, you’re still up?” The answer is as obvious as the way I’m staring at his chest.
“Yeah. You too?” His eyes travel from my face down my legs, which are on full display since I’ve put on sleep shorts.
“Yeah. I got some inspiration and had to get my ideas down.” I take my coffee from the cupboard and hold up the bag. “You want a cup?”
“Sure.” He pushes back his laptop and stretches his arms over his head. “Are you sketching in your book?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve already made it past that point in the design phase. I’ve got a program I use to bring the sketches to life.”
His brow lifts. “Can I see them?”
“When I’m done, yeah.” I turn to the espresso machine and busy myself prepping our coffee before he can catch my blush. “What are you working on?”
“My proposal.”
My head whips around. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay?”
He sighs. “I still have some things to work through, but I’m not ready to give up on starting Bombora yet, or the idea of working with you to do it.”
I smile. “Good to know.”
It’s closer to a yes than a no, and I’d rather give him space to make it a solid yes than push him toward something neither one of us is as ready for as we think we are.
He smiles back. “You wanna join me down here for a bit?”
I tip my head. “That depends on what you mean by ‘joining’ you. As your annoying stepsister, the woman you wanted to kiss earlier or your prospective partner?”
He lets out a low laugh. “How about something else?”
“What would that be?”
“A friend?” He shrugs.
“I like the sound of that.” I smile wider.
As much as I wanted to kiss Archie— still do —friendship is the thing I’ve always wanted from him. So, for now, that will do.
But he’s sparked hope for much more. I’m not giving up the idea of being more than friends or business partners.
I want to be Archie’s everything.