Chapter 4
FOUR
DARCY
Approximately two months ago
I watched from the bar as Shayna hustled a couple of guys playing darts in the back.
The end-of-summer tourist crowd had found themselves at The Crooked Quill, which meant instead of the eight regular Saturday night patrons, there were eighteen.
The two Shayna had lured into her trap were most definitely tourists, because if they were from around here, they’d know that no one could beat her at darts. No one.
Other than my sister, Linnea, Shayna was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
We’d met when I first contracted with the gym I offered personal training services at.
She’d been there for about a year when I started, and despite the fact that I’d been determined to keep to myself and do my own thing, she managed to become an integral part of the very small circle of people I cared for.
My first week there, she walked up to a guy who was using the power rack as a place to lean and scroll on his phone, and said, “You’re not nearly big enough to be taking that many photos of yourself.
Either use the equipment or go use the mirrors in the locker room.
” I loved her instantly. Not only was he hogging equipment, but he was also one of the overly dramatic grunters we all hated.
She simply said what we had all been thinking.
Two and a half years later, our friendship flourished under a belief that the day didn’t start until caffeine had been had, and that if you were going to poison your body with Coca-Cola, it should have Jack in it.
We spent almost every weekend together either bar hopping and dancing until we had to abandon our heels, or watching sad romance movies that made us cry, while eating Twizzlers.
Where Linnea kept me balanced, and tried to imbue me with her high-on-life outlook, Shayna indulged in the things that would have my sweet sister gasping and running away blushing. They were the metaphorical angel and devil manifested in physical forms, and I needed them both in different ways.
So while she tried to score us a round of free drinks on the unsuspecting visitors, I continued to pick at our loaded French fries. Fries were always good, but smother them in fake cheese and pile them with pieces of bacon, and I was a goner.
I slurped the remnants of my Jack and Coke, silently begging Shayna to hurry up so we could get our drinks and get back to talking. Bored, I turned my head to stare out the bar’s window, only I never made it that far because my gaze snagged on the man sitting by himself in the corner.
Archer Mack.
When I moved to Gettysburg, I’d heard that he lived in the area—word traveled remarkably fast in small towns—and it took me only a couple of seconds to realize why the name sounded familiar.
We’d gone to high school together. Granted he was a senior when I was freshman, so it wasn’t for long, but that’s how I knew of him.
He’d always kept to himself back then too, so it didn’t surprise me that he was all by himself at a bar now.
Through my tipsy brain, I tried to reconcile the boy from my teenage memories, with the man sitting twenty feet from me.
His dark hair was longer on top, and swept lazily across his forehead as he stared down at his phone.
Everything about his posture screamed he was trying to blend into the shadows, but as it would turn out, it was incredibly hard to hide when you were well over six feet tall, and covered in tattoos.
Unsure what prompted me into motion, whether it was the alcohol in my system, or the simple fact that I hadn’t done it back in high school but had always kind of wanted to, I gave up on waiting for a free drink, secured my own, and suddenly found myself standing before him.
“You’re Archer.”
His phone screen illuminated bright green eyes, and shadowed the cleft in his chin. If it weren’t for the three inch silver scar running through his left eyebrow, he’d be handsome in the almost “too perfect” sense. As it was, it lended him a dangerous edge that had my stomach somersaulting.
“I am,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
I held out my hand. “Darcy Adler. I believe we went to high school together. Well, actually, I know we did, but that sounds really creepy.” I was rambling, and that was absolutely the liquor’s fault.
His mouth turned upwards, and he reached across the table, taking my hand in his.
The calloused warmth of the small contact sent a chill through my body.
“I’d be inclined to believe you, except I most definitely would’ve remembered you.
” Those eyes scanned my face before trailing down my body, and I felt the heated path they took as if he had physically touched me.
A blush crept across my cheeks, and I pressed my lips together against what would’ve been a very stupid grin. It was a cheesy line, almost too cheesy, but it was effective nonetheless. “No, you wouldn’t have. I was told you were trouble on my first day and stayed clear.” Why did I say that?
He chuckled, and sipped his beer. “Smart advice. Why aren’t you listening to it now?”
I took the open seat opposite him. “Because that was almost twelve years ago, and people change. Plus, you never seemed all that bad to me.”
“You didn’t know me back then.”
Taking a sip of my drink, I shrugged. “I’m an excellent judge of character. It’s why I don’t have a lot of friends. The majority of people suck.”
He smirked. “I’m afraid, beautiful, that your superpower is off the mark where I’m concerned.”
I narrowed my eyes playfully at him, feeding off his use of the word beautiful. “Are you issuing your own warning to me right now?”
“I’m simply agreeing with whoever gave it to you in the first place.”
Rolling my eyes, I asked, “And what exactly is so bad about you? Because from where I’m sitting”—I gave him the once-over he’d given me—“I’m not seeing it.”
“Ninety percent of the time, you can’t see trouble coming.”
“Is that speaking from experience?”
There was a flash of darkness in his eyes that disappeared as fast as it came. I saw it though; it was there. Part of me wondered if that was the trouble Garrett, and now Archer himself, were cautioning me about. “I can’t speak from anything else. Not honestly anyway.”
“Well, in my experience, bad people don’t give self-proclaimed warnings.”
The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed slightly, flexing in a way that drew my attention to how muscular he was. “You’ve got a lot of experience with bad people?”
A humorless laugh bubbled out of me. “Only all of my exes. I have a history of dating some real assholes. Kind of ruined the whole dating thing for me.”
“Well, then”—he raised his beer towards me, and I lifted my drink up, lightly tapping the glass to his in cheers—“we’ve got that in common.”
“Your exes also suck?”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t have any exes. I don’t date.”
My brows pinched together. “Why not? You aren’t a fan of monogamy?”
“No, monogamy is fine. I’m trouble, remember? Dating would be too messy.”
“I think you’re your own worst critic,” I retorted.
His smile grew, and there was a glint to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He liked this game we were playing, which made two of us. Whatever was happening, I wanted more of it.
He leaned closer to me still, and the somersaults in my stomach from earlier increased. “Maybe so, but your high school friend agrees, which makes it a valid assessment.”
I met him across the table, a meager foot separating us now. “And what if I like trouble?”
A look that was pure sin flashed across his face before he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’d say no one likes trouble.”
“I’d argue that some of us do, depending on what kind of trouble it is you’re offering.
” I’d come over to his table for conversation, because I hadn’t back then, and I’d be lying if I said that I’d never been even slightly curious about him.
But somewhere between walking over here, and now, I’d made the decision that I wanted more from Archer than polite conversation.
What I wanted now, was entirely impolite.
He pressed his lips together, tongue sliding between them, as he looked out over the bar before returning his gaze to mine. “And if I told you I’m not offering anything?”
I wouldn’t call myself a conceited person, but I knew what I was working with—what I spent hours in the gym working on.
And because I never did the whole “boyfriend” thing, I’d become very adept at telling when a guy was into me.
And Archer? He was most definitely into me.
I shrugged, and casually took a sip of my drink, calling his bluff with my next words.
“I’d say that’s fine, and that I could happily find the trouble I’m searching for elsewhere. ”
Standing, I made to leave, but his hand reached out, gently encircling my wrist. My eyes dropped down to his fingers, then up at him, a smirk already on my lips before he spoke.
“You want trouble, Darcy? You’ve found it.
” He stood to his full height, and it was rare that I had to crane my neck to look up at a guy—being five foot ten would do that to a girl—but Archer made me feel petite, and I liked it.
Bending down, his voice was low in my ear.
“Follow me, and try not to look like you’re about to have sex in the bathroom. ”
“Am I about to have sex in the bathroom?” I quipped, my heart racing excitedly.
He released my wrist. “Only if you want to get into some trouble with me, Darcy.” Then he shot me a wink and started toward the hallway.
Was I seriously about to have sex in a bar bathroom? The heat building between my thighs from our conversation alone said yes, which is how I found myself snagging Shayna’s attention, and motioning to her that I’d be right back, before disappearing down the hall.