8. Backward Baseball Hat
Chapter 8
Backward Baseball Hat
Archer
I stepped back from Tessa as if burned, though my body still thrummed with the lingering heat of her touch. Had we not been interrupted, I might not have been able to stop myself from laying her back on the counter and having a different kind of dessert.
I spun around to find Evan and Liam frozen in the kitchen doorway, their expressions a mix of disbelief and barely contained fury. Evan’s eyebrows had practically disappeared into his hairline, while Liam’s jaw tightened in that way it did right before he lost his temper.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Usually, I was the one catching them in compromising positions, not the other way around. I’d spent years building a reputation for being collected and in control, and here I was, caught acting like a hormone-driven teenager. If this had been any other woman, in any other situation, I would have already had three contingency plans and an exit strategy mapped out. But with Tessa, my usually razor- sharp mind had turned to mush the moment she’d stepped into my orbit.
“I should... probably... go reorganize my sock drawer. By color. And texture. And emotional resonance.” Tessa slid off the counter, nearly knocking over the now-melting container of ice cream. “Or alphabetically? Is that a thing people do with socks? I’m going to find out. Right now. Bye!”
Before I could remind her that she was at a hotel and not at her house, she practically sprinted for the door, ducking under Evan’s arm where he blocked the doorframe. The silence that followed her exit was deafening, broken only by the quiet hum of the industrial refrigerators.
I straightened my tie, a futile attempt to restore order to a situation that had spiraled wildly out of control. When I looked up, both Evan and Liam were staring at me with expressions that made me want to loosen the tie again.
Liam ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even further until he looked like he’d been standing in a wind tunnel. “Un-fucking-believable.” He let out a harsh laugh that held no humor, the sound scraping against my nerves like steel wool. “It’s Evelyn all over again.”
Evelyn. The name hit like a punch to the gut, dragging up memories I’d spent years methodically filing away into the darkest corners of my mind. The careful compartmentalization I prided myself on started to crack.
“Don’t.” My voice came out rough, a warning wrapped in a single syllable.
“Why not?” Liam’s voice rose, echoing off the stainless-steel surfaces. His fingers drummed against his thigh. “We should talk about it, since you clearly haven’t learned a damn thing in the last decade. Still diving headfirst into disaster with your eyes wide open.”
“This is nothing like Evelyn.” I kept my voice controlled even as my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
The mere mention of the reason we were no longer best friends twisted something dark and ugly in my chest. Evelyn had played us all masterfully, feeding each of us different versions of the truth until we’d turned on each other. By the time we’d figured out her game, the damage had been done.
“Really?” Evan pushed off the doorframe with a force that made the wood creak, his usual easy smile replaced by something sharp and unfamiliar that made me deeply uncomfortable. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like it.”
“That’s not what this is.” The words tasted like what I imagined Evan’s butter sauce from the night before would have. Even I wasn’t entirely convinced by my own denial. Tessa was about to be a part of our business, just like Evelyn almost had.
“No?” Liam’s bitter laugh echoed in the emptiness of the kitchen. “Then what exactly is it, Archer? Because we saw you sucking face with her, and I’m sure you’ve noticed my interest in her.”
“And mine.” Evan shifted his weight forward, looking ready to punch me in the face, which, given our history, wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility.
“See?” Liam threw his hands up. “We’re already doing it. Fighting over her like we’re twenty-two again.”
“We’re not fighting over anyone. This was a moment of weakness.” Despite my words, there was a possessive surge in my chest at the mention of either of them with Tessa.
“Right.” Evan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Tessa isn’t Evelyn, but we are still the same idiots who let a woman come between us and business once before. And now we’re stuck here, trying to run this resort together because Gavin...” Liam’s voice cracked slightly on the name. “Because Gavin thought we needed to fix what broke.”
The truth of his words hung heavy in the air. We’d never really dealt with what happened in college or with Gavin’s death; we had buried it. But now, with Tessa stirring up old feelings we’d been ignoring, the fault lines were starting to show.
“So, what do we do?” The anger that had been in Evan’s voice gave way to something more vulnerable.
I wished I had an answer because we would probably simply ignore everything and each other like we had been. We might have been men almost in our mid-thirties, but we acted like we were petulant children fighting over a toy.
At one point, I’d considered Evan, Liam, and Gavin the brothers I never had. We’d met our freshman year in a business class and been thick as thieves. Back then, I’d been wound up tight, but they’d brought me out of my rigid shell, where my sole focus had been academics and being the best of the best.
Gavin never backed down when he set his mind to something, Liam was always infusing his need for adrenaline into most situations, and Evan brought levity to situations whether they called for it or not.
I’d found a balance between academics and having a life, and for almost four years, things were perfect. We all started trusting a woman we shouldn’t have, and our carefully constructed plans of buying our first hotel went up in flames, right along with our friendships.
Now, here I was, working sixteen-hour days to run a resort that was no longer the dream I once had and maintaining a small list of clientele at the law firm that bore my name. I didn’t work my ass off for years to become a partner to let it slip away.
I cleared my throat and straightened. “Maybe we shouldn’t hire her. That will solve our problem, and then she’ll be gone in ten days.”
Liam rolled his eyes, but Evan suddenly grinned. Evan grinning was never a good sign, especially when the situation was so far from a grin-worthy one.
“She seems to like all of our company, so why not let her?” Evan grabbed a spoon and headed for my ice cream. “She just got out of a serious relationship, so I’m sure she’ll want to keep it casual.”
“You mean… share her? I don’t know about that…” Liam grabbed a spoon and joined the ice cream party. “Where did this come from?”
I grabbed it from Evan’s grubby hands before he could dig in. “It’s mine.”
“You always were greedy with your ice cream.” Evan gave me a dejected puppy look. It had been a long time since I’d seen it, and something about it cracked the concrete I’d poured around my heart.
I put the container down on the counter. “Don’t eat it all.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you fell for that.” Evan grabbed the container and made a beeline to the other side of the kitchen with it. “Like taking candy from a baby.”
“I have work to do.” I walked to the exit, not even acknowledging that Evan had suggested we all let things unfold with Tessa.
It was a ludicrous idea, especially considering we’d just met her.
I stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the pre-dawn light dance across the wood surface. Sleep had been elusive, my mind replaying what had happened in the kitchen with Tessa on an endless loop, interspersed with memories of Evelyn and everything that followed.
By six, I gave up the pretense of rest. Even though it was technically my day off, the stack of legal briefs waiting for my attention wouldn’t review themselves. And “day off” was a relative term when you were trying to run both a resort and maintain a law practice.
I needed to get out of here and away from the constant reminder of everything that was falling apart. The walls of the cabin felt like they were closing in. Every day was a mocking reminder of another problem I couldn’t control.
God, I hated the word couldn’t. It wasn’t in my vocabulary until this place dropped into my lap, bringing with it a minefield of complications I hadn’t anticipated. Between having to run the place when I’d rather be anywhere else and Tessa’s arrival stirring up things I’d rather forget, it felt like things were unraveling one thread at a time. One good yank, and everything would completely fall apart.
Trading my usual suit for dark jeans and a gray hoodie, I grabbed my laptop bag and baseball hat. The familiar weight of it settled something in my chest that had been unsettled since last night.
I completely bypassed the hotel and headed to The Perky Squirrel in town. It had become the one place where I could pretend I was just another guy working on his laptop instead of one of the three idiots running Sterling Pines into the ground.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackwell, your usual?” The barista reached for a medium cup.
“Good morning, Deb. I’ll have a large today. And can you add a sprinkle of cinnamon?” So what if my coffee order was complicated and didn’t exactly match my personality? At least I knew what I wanted, unlike everything else in my life lately.
I paid and moved to the side to wait. The place wasn’t busy yet, and I was grateful I could zone out for a few minutes.
I was lost in thought when someone crashed into my arm, nearly spilling their coffee. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—Archer?”
Tessa. Because, of course, it was Tessa. I hadn’t been tortured enough lately.
Her eyes widened as they swept from my head to my toes and back up again, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “You’re wearing jeans. And a hoodie. And a baseball hat. Obviously, you’re wearing clothes. Not that I was thinking about you without... I meant... Do you ever wear it backward? The hat. Not that you should. Or shouldn’t. Shit. I really need to work on not doing this. It’s very unattractive.”
Something warm and dangerous unfurled in my chest at her rambling. It was... cute. The kind of cute that made me want to see what other adorably flustered things she might say. Which was exactly the kind of thought I needed to squash immediately, preferably with the same ruthless efficiency I applied to everything else in my life.
“Mr. Blackwell, here’s your large sugar-free vanilla almond milk latte, extra shot, with light foam, one and a half pumps of sugar-free vanilla, and a sprinkle of cinnamon,” the barista called out. I reached for the drink, grateful for the distraction, even as part of me wanted to see how long Tessa would keep going with that hat tangent.
Tessa’s eyebrows shot up, her lips quirking into a smile. “Wow. First the ice cream and now a complicated drink order?” She tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle she was determined to solve. As if my coffee preferences were somehow the key to unlocking all my carefully guarded secrets.
“It’s not complicated.” I cradled my perfectly crafted drink like it was a shield between us.
I should walk away. I should absolutely not do what I was about to do. Every instinct screamed at me to make my excuses and retreat to a safe distance. But apparently, my mouth had developed a mind of its own when it came to Tessa Callahan.
“Would you like to join me?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I genuinely didn’t understand what was happening to me. This wasn’t part of any plan. “To discuss last night,” I added quickly, as if tacking on a business reason somehow made it less obvious that I wanted to spend more time studying the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. Or the way she managed to make even the simple act of holding a coffee cup look graceful. God, I was in trouble.
Tessa’s fingers tightened around her cup, and for a moment, I thought she’d refuse. “I suppose we should talk about it.”
I led the way to a quiet corner table, choosing one partially hidden behind a large potted plant. The early morning sun streamed through the windows, catching the steam rising from our cups and creating a dreamy haze between us. Before sitting down, I reached up and deliberately turned my baseball cap backward, watching Tessa’s reaction from the corner of my eye.
Her mouth fell open slightly, and I had to bite back a smile. I wasn’t usually one for playing games, but something about the way she’d rambled about the hat earlier made me want to see what would happen. I took a long, slow drink from my coffee, letting my tongue dart out to catch a stray drop from my lip.
Tessa’s eyes followed the movement, her own coffee forgotten in her hands. A flush crept up her cheeks, and I felt a surge of masculine satisfaction at having caused it. It was juvenile and completely beneath me, but I couldn’t deny the thrill of watching her squirm.
“What brings you into town so early?” I acted perfectly casual, as if I hadn’t deliberately tried to short-circuit her brain.
She blinked rapidly, like she was coming out of a trance. “I, uh... couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts. Plus, there’s a bakery down the street I wanted to check out as a potential vendor.” Her fingers drummed against her cup. “I know we haven’t discussed any specifics about me working at the resort yet, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to make some connections.”
“You would be reforming them… that bakery used to be a vendor for the resort.” I kept my expression neutral but could tell from the way her face softened that I didn’t do a good job. Was I losing my face of steel, or was it only around her?
“Do I even want to know why they’re no longer a vendor?” She leaned forward, trying to piece together another part of the puzzle that was Sterling Pines and, by extension, me.
“Probably not. Stupid decisions fueled by grief and anger.” I shrugged, fiddling with the sleeve of my cup. “I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace for making rational business decisions when I first got here.”
I wanted to spill my guts to this woman, which was both terrifying and completely foreign to me. The urge to tell her everything about why three grown men were sharing a cabin like some twisted summer camp experiment pressed against my chest. Me, the guy who preferred communicating exclusively through email and text to avoid small talk.
As if sensing my discomfort, she slid her hand toward my drink. “Can I... would it be okay if I tried your drink? It’s such an interesting combination.”
I slid my cup across the table, not trusting myself to hand it to her directly. Our fingers brushing right now would be dangerous territory.
She lifted the cup to her lips and took a small sip. The sound she made was somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and it shot straight through me like an electric current. Her eyes closed in pleasure, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from doing something incredibly stupid, like yanking her across it and finding out if she’d make that sound again if I kissed her.
The image of her sprawled across my desk at the resort flashed through my mind, and I mentally slapped myself. This was exactly the kind of thinking I needed to shut down. Now.
“About last night…” My voice came out rougher than intended, and I cleared my throat and tried again. “I want to apologize for my unprofessional behavior.”
Her eyes snapped open, the dreamy expression replaced by confusion. “Oh?”
“If you’re going to come on as our chef, even temporarily, we need to maintain appropriate boundaries.” The words were like sawdust in my mouth, but they needed to be said. “What happened in the kitchen was a lapse in judgment that won’t be repeated.”
I watched the light dim slightly in her eyes, and I immediately wanted to take back my words. But this was the right thing to do. The smart thing. The safe thing.
“Right.” She straightened in her seat and slid my drink back across the table. “Of course. Completely professional. I understand completely. It would be... inappropriate... to mix business and pleasure.”
The way she said “pleasure” made me want to throw all my carefully constructed rules out the window, but I held firm. “Exactly. I’m glad we understand each other.”
But as I watched her take a deliberately casual sip of her own coffee, avoiding my eyes, I wasn’t sure I understood anything anymore. Especially why doing the right thing felt so wrong.