I drive the short distance downtown, park, then grab my stuff. As soon as I unlock the doors, I flick on the lights and smile. This store is my happy place, and outside of my home, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“Good mornin’,” Lexie sing-songs as she prances in thirty minutes later. She’s one of my managers, but we’ve become close friends too.
“Morning!” I reply cheerfully from the front display I’m organizing. “How’s it goin’?”
“Just fine, I suppose. Brett’s mama asked if I could make a pecan pie for Thanksgiving, so I’m stressin’ about that.”
“Why? Just go to the bakery and pick one up,” I suggest with a laugh.
“No way. She’d know I didn’t bake it and give me one of her signature I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed looks. Then she’d make some offhand comment to Brett about how it’s too bad he didn’t marry a woman who’s skilled in the bedroom and kitchen.”
“She’d say that?”
“Oh, that’d be on the list of nice things she’d say about me.” She huffs, then grabs our daily task list.
“Wow. So glad I don’t have to put up with a villain mother-in-law. But I like to think I’d win her over with my sailor’s mouth and Southern charm.”
“You better pray yours isn’t the devil dressed in a pantsuit.”
At that, I snort. “Not sure I’ll ever be gettin’ married, so I won’t have to worry about that.”
“Why do you say that? Thought you’d already be engaged to your roommate by the way you’ve been talkin’ about him the past few weeks.”
I bark out a laugh because she’s right. Since Gemma mentioned him moving in with me, I’ve randomly brought him up in passing. I wasn’t sure what he looked like, but when we finally met a few days ago, he surpassed every expectation I had.
“He’s been quiet. We’ve only talked a little, though when I ran into him before work, I’m certain he caught me checking out his ass. Per usual, I made things weird with inappropriate gawking and stupid words.”
“Most guys like that about you,” she retorts with a smirk.
“No, they like my long blond hair and lean legs,” I correct with a shrug.
“It’s been less than a week, right? He’ll come around and realize you’re funny as hell.”
“Then he won’t be able to stay away…” I mock, waggling my brows. “I’ll break him out of his shell in no time.”
“Didn’t you say your brother invoked a hands-off policy?” she asks.
“He thinks he’s the boss of me, but he’s not.”
“Careful, Ev. Archer was locked up for five years. He probably needs to figure out a lot of stuff before he can consider a relationship.”
“Geez, you sound just like Tyler now. And who said anything about a relationship?”
“Oh, so just fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?” she prompts.
“Roommates with benefits,” I counter with a chuckle.
“Not sure if I should warn Archer or rat you out to Tyler first,” she taunts.
“Better not. I sign your paychecks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles but grins.
“I’m taking him to Thanksgiving tomorrow. We’re all going to Gemma and Noah’s father’s house. Belinda’s cooking, so it’ll be a good opportunity for him to hang out and lower his guard.”
With those words, the door chimes, and our first customer of the day enters. Between helping people, decorating, and getting all the Black Friday signs hung, the day stays busy.
When I leave, it’s almost dark. As I pull onto the main road toward the grocery store, I see the same black Escalade parked outside of the boutique. It’s probably someone’s family visiting for the holidays and spending the evening shopping downtown.
Belinda is preparing a feast for us tomorrow, and I've offered to bring my infamous dessert. I only bake it a few times a year and look forward to it each time. On a whim, I stop and pick up a couple of steaks. After chatting with Archer this morning, I realized he probably hasn’t eaten a decent meal in years. While I’m no Chef Ramsay, I can make meat and potatoes.
Sassy barks the second I walk into the house. My arms are filled with grocery bags, so I can’t pet her.
“Chill, girl. Let me set these down before you bite my ankles off.”
As soon as I kick the front door shut, Archer’s in front of me, grabbing the bags from my grip.
“Let me help.”
“Oh. Thanks. In the kitchen’s fine,” I say, tossing off my heels.
“I know where it all goes,” he tells me.
I mentally slap myself for insinuating he wouldn’t.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I say as I unpack everything.
“Sure, I could eat.” He flashes a boyish grin. “Can I help?”
Before I can answer, Sassy’s at my side, begging for attention. I set the steaks on the counter, then lean down to pet her.
“Were you a good girl today?”
“Only nipped at me three times,” Archer responds. “Better than the five yesterday.”
I try to hold back a laugh but fail. “With that progression, she’ll be your bestie in about two days.”
“You bought ribeyes?” he asks, eyeing the items I haven't put away yet.
“Yep. Hope you like baked potatoes and sweet corn. Went to the store for cake ingredients and came out with a week’s worth of stuff.”
“I do, but you didn’t have to do that for me.”
I lift my head and meet his eyes. “Would you rather watch me eat instead? I heard some guys are into that fetish…”
He scratches his cheek. “Hm, yeah. Tyler warned me you were a smart-ass.”
I smile widely at the compliment and playfully poke his shoulder. “And it’d be best if you didn’t forget it.”
After I ask him what temperature he’d like his steak, I get to work in the kitchen. An hour later, we’re both full and satisfied from the impromptu feast I made. We talked some while we ate, but he’s guarded with his past. I don’t push him and am okay with what he’s comfortable sharing.
“That was the best meal I’ve ever had,” he tells me as he rinses the dishes.
“Wait till you taste my dessert.”
“W-what?”
“Oh my God, that sounded way more sexual than it should’ve. I meant, the cake I’m baking for tomorrow.”
He fights a smirk. “What kind?”
I lick my lips, then grin. “Better than Sex cake.”
He stares at me for a minute, probably waiting to see if I’m messing with him, but I just grin. “Trust me. You’ll orgasm before you swallow the first bite.”
Archer watches and listens as I ramble on about random small-town gossip while I mix the ingredients. He probably doesn’t care that much, but he humors me.
Once I place the pan in the oven, I clean up, but Archer quickly jumps to his feet and grabs the bowl. “Let me do that for you.”
His hands cover mine, and I swallow hard before meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to.”