CHAPTER 12 Archer Bradley
A Walk on the Beach
I ate my dinner up in my room by myself. It was better than having to sit through the awkwardness of having her at the table beside me.
I wanted to ask her if she knew who I was, but I already know the answer. Of course she did.
I debate switching resorts. There is no shortage of places just like this one on this island. I could go somewhere else so I don’t keep running into her, though it would likely cost me, and I’m already paying an arm and a leg to stay in this suite for an entire month.
I sit on my balcony a while, but I’m already starting to feel antsy. I’ve only been here twenty-four hours, and I need something to focus on besides this woman. Part of why I came here is to escape my focus on a woman. Well, that, and the whole laying low thing.
I brought one of my gaming systems with me so I could veg and play video games, but even that sounds unappealing at the moment.
I also brought my laptop so I could get some work done on my foundations.
Yes, there are multiple—the one I started up, Archway, which benefits underprivileged kids, and the new one my mother left to me when she died.
I haven’t yet figured out what I want to do with that one, but maybe it’s time to get started since I have an entire month to put some focus and energy into it.
I also need to keep up my training while I’m here.
I didn’t do anything today at all, and I wonder if that’s why I’m feeling off.
Millie mentioned something about sunrise yoga, and I check the itinerary for tomorrow.
It’s happening again. Might be something to check out, and afterward, I can take a nice, long run on the beach and use the time to mentally plan out the rest of my training regimen while I’m here.
I haven’t even checked out the fitness centers here yet.
Maybe I just need some movement. I head down to the beach and walk toward the water. It’s dark, but I’m not alone. Mostly couples walk by me, hand-in-hand, as they whisper and laugh quietly together.
It’s just me here. Solo.
The reminder presses a deep, dull ache. I wasn’t single and solo for the last seven years—on and off—but I am now, and it feels lonelier than I thought it would.
Particularly with all of these happy little couples walking along the beach.
It’s a big, flashing, neon reminder that I’m all the fuck alone.
I stop and stare out over the water. The moon casts a glow that dances with the waves in their rhythmic tango as they pull in and out of the shore. Maybe I should just go home and sulk there.
I don’t want to go home and sulk there. I want to find another woman I can spend the night with. Someone who can try to take away the ache that seems somehow multiplied after learning what last night’s conquest does for a living and the reason why she’s here.
I sigh, and I turn from the water to start making my way back up the beach and toward the resort when I see another figure walking solo—just like me—but this one is female.
Maybe this is my chance to find someone to take my mind off things.
We approach each other from opposite sides, and once we’re within enough space where I can see her face, I realize who it is.
“Are you following me?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Are you serious right now? You bolted from dinner, and I stayed behind, devouring two more of those spicy margs without the asshole at the table next to me staring daggers.”
I almost laugh at that. She’s just the tiniest bit unsteady on her feet, as if those three margaritas were much more powerful than the spritz drinks she consumed the night prior.
“I’m not an asshole,” I protest.
“Could’ve fooled me.” Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, and it does something to me, to my cock.
“You’re just like all the others. It’s disappointing, that’s all.”
“How?” she challenges.
“Let me ask you this instead. Did you know who I was when you sat down across from me?”
She presses her lips together. “No.”
“You’re lying.” I narrow my eyes at her.
She shakes her head adamantly, and I wish it wasn’t as endearing as it is.
“I’m not. I heard you give your name at the hostess stand, and you said Bradley.
I thought that was your name. When I sat with you and you said your name was Archer, I put it together.
Of course I’ve heard of your name. You’re a famous baseball player, and the announcers always mention you when your brothers are on the field.
Doesn’t mean I’d be able to pick you out of a lineup, the same way I know the names David Ortiz and Shohei Ohtani but wouldn’t know them if they sat across the table from me until they introduced themselves. ”
“But you’d know Madden,” I say flatly.
“Well, yeah. Of course I’d recognize Madden Motherfucking Bradley.”
“Because you watch football,” I presume.
“Damn right I do.” She flashes a fake smile.
“Another football fan. Wonderful.”
“Yes, it is. Your brothers are very talented, and I’m sure you’re doing just fine for yourself. Now listen, if you’re just going to continue to be mean to me and make assumptions about my character, you can mosey on your merry way and leave me the hell alone,” she says.
I’m not sure why I feel insulted by that, but I do. “What assumptions did I make about your character?”
“That I’m fake. My content is fake.”
“Well?” I ask, holding a hand up for her to prove me wrong. “You’re staying here free of charge to promote the hotel. How is that not fake?”
“I’m sharing tips and strategies for how to stay at a place like this on a budget. What I do is important, and you don’t know the first goddamn thing about who I really am,” she says, slurring a little.
“You’re right. I thought I did, but I was wrong.” I press my lips together, and I study her. She’s just tipsy. She’ll be fine. “Have a good night.” I turn and walk away from her.
I suppose I could just let all that go and give in to the rather obvious fire that burns between us. Last night was…well, I definitely want a repeat performance. But not with someone who’s always on.
Not with someone who’s chasing everything I’m desperately running away from.