Chapter One #2
Mrs. Robinson nods back toward Archer, who’s hanging a banner over the long side of the bar for tonight’s party. “How do you like Archer as your boss? I’ve known that kid since he was born. His mom and I were good friends.”
“Yeah?” I try to picture Archer as a kid, but in my mind, he’s still got the tattoos, the beard, and the whole brooding-thunderstorm vibe. Basically, he’s a tiny biker with a juice box. “You have any embarrassing stories I can use as bait?”
The women laugh, and Mrs. Robinson leans in, her blue eyes sparkling under the light of the bar.
“People in town call him the guard dog because he’s a little possessive.
It was toys as a child, and then it was his family as he got older.
He was always acting like he needed people to know what was his.
His mother was so worried about it when he was little. ”
I narrow my gaze, and my chest squeezes a little. “What’s to worry about? I think that’s sweet.”
“Right, well… when he was fifteen, he heard me yellin’ out behind the diner.
Must’ve thought someone was being attacked.
The sweet boy came running around to the back like a linebacker.
It was pitch black. I could only hear him coming.
I tried to tell him I was just coughing, but he went after my attacker, snapped his arm clean off. ”
I pull back from the bar and gasp. “What?”
“I was carrying a mannequin from the tailor down the road.” Mrs. Robinson laughs. “That boy didn’t slow down long enough to see he was ripping apart an oversized Ken doll.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that image.
“Sweet boy meant well, but when I flicked on the back light and saw him wrestling that thing, I couldn’t help but laugh.”
“What is all the commotion over here?” Archer smiles as he tucks into the bar next to me. Right next to me. So close that I smell the pine in his cologne and feel the heat from his massive frame.
Another pulsing alarm shoots straight to my pussy.
I need help. There’s nothing happening. He’s literally just standing next to me.
“Nothing.” I grin and glare up at him. “Just listening to stories about the town.”
“Yeah?” He leans over the bar and kisses Mrs. Robinson on her cheek. “This little troublemaker isn’t telling stories about me, is she?”
I glance toward the girls who are shaking their heads back and forth playfully.
“No.” I smile along with them. “No way. There are much more interesting things to talk about than you.”
“Like what?” He offers me half a smile and then nods toward the women.
“Like the party tonight.”
“The party?” Mrs. Robinson takes a sip of Coke as she talks. “Oh, is this the sex toy thing the ladies in the book club are doing?”
Archer nods. “I’m not sure what to expect. I’ve got plenty of whiskey and enough food for an army, but I’m guessing these women will be rowdy tonight.”
Oh God. I hadn’t thought about how rowdy things could get. My mind flashes to a picture of what tonight could become. A bunch of drunk, horny women, all looking at dildos while a big, tall, attractive man in tight jeans plays bartender.
My heart stiffens, though it has no right. I don’t own Archer, and I never will. Plus, the man is nearly double my age. He’s lived an entire life being hot as hell. I’m sure he’s used to women ogling him.
“Oh no,” Rosie adds, setting her jar down on the bar. “It’s not women only. It’s a party for couples. Men will be there too.”
I lean into the bar with a flirty, playful smile, trying to sound more fun than I am as I say, “So single men will be here too?”
“Doesn’t matter that they’re single. You’re here to do a job.” Archer’s jaw tightens as he growls low and stares at me.
Did he just look at my tits?
“Why would men come to a sex toy party? I thought this shit was for women?” His tone is dark and irritated, though I can’t figure why.
Rosie shrugs. “It’s a couple’s activity meant to bring a spark back to the bedroom.” She twists her lips to the side. “My friend is bringing her guy friend, and I know a few other dudes who are tagging along for the fun of it. People really get a kick out of this stuff.”
“Is that right?” Archer grunts and moves behind me, his hip brushing against mine before his hand lands on my back to steady me as he passes. “You ladies have a good day. I have some work to do.”
What the hell was that about?
“That was weird,” Rosie says, brushing her hand back through her curls before glancing toward her great aunt. “Was he jealous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Archer jealous.”
Mrs. Robinson glances up at me, her hands shaking as she mops up the condensation from her glass with the cardboard coaster. “He likes you.”
“What?” I laugh. “No… he’s my boss, and he’s… pretty old.”
“Oh,” the silver-haired woman straightens, “right. He just… he got all jealous when you mentioned single men.”
I narrow my brows. “Why would he be jealous? I see men all the time. I’m a bartender. He was probably worried about my ability to do the job right. It’s nothing.”
“Maybe,” Mrs. Robinson tilts her head to the side and draws out the word, “but I saw the way he looked at you.”
My insides tighten and there’s a new squeezing feeling between my legs that wasn’t there before. It’s as if all the fantasies I’d been having suddenly seem more realistic.
“I’d keep him at arm’s length, though,” Rosie adds. “The whole guard dog thing sounds cute, but he’s got a reputation in town.”
I narrow my gaze and lean in. “What kind of reputation?”
“He’s a little overprotective for the people he cares about. It’s kinda—” Rosie stops, not wanting to say something damning.
Mrs. Robinson clears her throat before she says, “Some might call it… obsessive.”
“Obsessive how? A second ago, the protector thing was sweet. How is it obsessive now?”
“His daughter goes to my college,” Rosie adds as she stands from the bar stool. “She’s been dating a guy for years and she’s keeping him secret because the last guy she brought home, her dad beat the crap out of for like looking at her wrong or something.”
There’s so much being said here.
“He has a daughter?”
Rosie nods. “She’s twenty-four.”
Oh my God, she’s older than me!
His daughter is older than me! This very grown man has a whole ass daughter who’s older than me!
“Okay.” I shake my head and refill their mason jars. “Well, none of this really matters because we’re not dating and we won’t ever date. He’s my boss.”
Mrs. Robinson lands her hand on top of mine and squeezes. “Good head on your shoulders, sweetheart. There are plenty of nice boys your age in town.”
I nod and drag in a deep breath before turning away to hide the obvious disappointment I feel rushing over me. No matter how bad I want my boss, he’s officially very off-limits. That fact should cool everything down. It should shake me back to reality.
Yet somehow, the moment that line is drawn, it feels like someone struck a match and suddenly there’s dry tinder everywhere.