Chapter Fourteen: Quinn

Chapter Fourteen

Quinn

I’ve shaved every piece of unwanted hair off my body. I’ve plucked and tweezed, applied makeup only to take it off and do it again, and re-curled my hair three times.

But I’m not trying to look good for Archer Jones.

He saw me in my natural element yesterday at work wearing office attire and my hair in a ponytail. And then he saw me in all sorts of ways last night, and it’s not like I woke up looking like an I*******m model or something.

I take my sunglasses off my head, and my hair gets stuck. Yanking it free, I put them on and pay my fare as I get out of the cab. It’s nice out today, a little breezier than yesterday, but the air is humid and the wind is welcome.

Archer texted me not long ago and said the convention was over, but the medical director from a big hospital invited him out for a drink at the hotel bar. He didn’t think it would take long and was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I encouraged him to go, because that hospital happens to be in Chicago and, for selfish reasons, I’d love Archer to get a job in the city.

I look through the crowd of people and somehow see him right away. He looks up at the same time and smiles as soon as our eyes meet.

“Hey,” I say when we meet. He stops just inches from me and takes me in his arms, dipping me back a bit for a kiss.

“Hey to you too.” He runs his hands over my arms. “What’s this?”

“Oh, I got you something.”

“You did?”

“I got it on a whim. I saw it at a market I walked through and thought—well, just look at it and you’ll know.”

He takes the shopping bag from me and opens it up, pulling out a wool fedora. Looking it over, I worry he won’t get it.

“Is this an Indiana Jones hat?” he asks.

“Yes!”

“I like it.” He smiles and puts it on, and even Harrison Ford would be jealous. “But, uh, why?”

I lean back, staring at Archer like he just asked what color the sky is. “You’re Dr. Jones. Please do not tell me no one has ever said ‘okey-dokey Dr. Jones’ to you.”

“It’s surprising now that you’ve pointed it out, but no, they haven’t.” He pulls me in and kisses me again. “Wait, there’s an Indiana Jones market going on?”

“No, just some weird guy at a pop-up selling hats. He told me I had nice feet.”

Archer chuckles. “I guess you do, though, in that dress, it’s hard to look past your tits.”

I shimmy and wiggle my eyebrows. “That’s the point of a pushup bra.” We break apart and Archer takes my hand, moving down the sidewalk. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I assumed so. We can get the famous Chicago pizza you like. Oh! Or try fried rice with cheese. What are you in the mood for?”

“Other than you? Pizza.”

“I knew it. And good, because I made us a reservation.”

*

I grab my lemonade, sliding it in front of me, and take a drink. Even with the wind, the walk from the hotel to the restaurant was a warm one. I’m sitting across from Archer, and we’re waiting on our pizza to come. Neither of us has said much, and the conversation ceased halfway here.

I don’t get it.

We were so great before. Even better after. And now…it’s weird again, like neither of us knows what to say. Probably because we don’t, and trying to talk about it is going to be really freaking awkward. He lives in Indy. I live here. Eastwood is in the middle, and while I have a good reason for making the trip as often as I’d like, he doesn’t.

He and Dean keep in touch, but they don’t hang out like they used to. And Archer works so much.

“Have you and Dean started planning the bachelor party yet?” I ask, needing to say something before things go from bad to worse.

“We’ve thrown some ideas around. Vegas was one of them.”

“That sounds fun.”

“What about the bachelorette party?”

“I’m not sure I’m invited. I like Kara, and I think it’s mutual. What’s not to like, right?” I joke and Archer laughs. “But she’s down there and I’m up here. Plus I don’t know her friends.”

“I thought people in small towns knew everyone.”

“Oh, I know who they are. They’re older than me so we never talked in high school or anything. And then I left and never went back.”

“You said you like it here, didn’t you?”

I nod. “I do. Despite the high crime rate, it’s progressive and fun and I’ve made some really good friends here.”

“That’s good.”

I sip my lemonade again, wondering how long it’s been since we ordered that pizza. Archer leans back in the booth, looking out the window.

“If you make the drive to Eastwood, you’ll have to, uh, let me know.”

“Yeah. I will.” He puts one hand on the table, drumming his fingers. He wants to say something but is nervous. It’s kinda cute. “I’m not sure when it’ll be though.”

“I figured as much. I know you’re super busy with work and you haven’t come up in, what, years?”

“It’s been a while.”

“It’s nice you guys are still friends. Not a lot of people stay friends that long.”

Archer’s brow furrows. “Yeah. He’s been a good friend.” He looks at me, inhales, and opens his mouth to speak. I know the words about to come out will hurt. I brace myself, expecting him to remind me how I’m Dean’s little sister and how he regrets everything that happened last night and how we can never speak of this again.

That sleeping with me was a mistake.

“Quinn!” a familiar voice calls before Archer can get a word out. I turn toward the source and have never been so grateful to see an ex-boyfriend before in my life.

“Jacob, hi,” I say as he starts to make his way over. Okay, maybe I’m not so grateful to see him. The server at the table next to us moves, and Archer comes into Jacob’s line of sight. He almost comes to a halt when he sees him.

Geez. It’s been over a year since we broke up. Poor guy needs to move on already. It’s not like we had a great relationship anyway. It wasn’t bad, not at all. He treated me well and was respectful, but there was no passion. No fire. No drive.

We got along. Have similar interests. The sex was okay. I only faked it a few times.

But it was nothing like last night. Jacob doesn’t get under my skin and annoy me so much I want to slap him across the face one minute, and the next have me cooking him breakfast so he can get a few extra minutes of sleep.

“Quinn.” He settles his gaze on me for a few seconds too long before turning to Archer. “Dean’s friend, Archer, right?” He holds out his hand for a handshake.

“Right.”

“I have to ask” —Jacob starts— “is that an Indiana Jones replica hat?”

Archer gives me a half smile. “I think it’s supposed to be. Quinn got it for me.”

“His last name is Jones,” I explain. “And he’s a doctor. Get it?”

Jacob let out a forced chuckle. “I do. Dr. Indiana Jones. You were always clever, Quinn. It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

And now things just got awkward again.

“I’ll let you two enjoy your meal. See you Monday morning, Quinn.” He goes back to his table.

“Did you date him?” Archer asks.

“Yeah, for a few months.”

“And he works with you?”

I shake my head. “Not at the same company. I design software and he builds robotics. Our companies work together a lot, which is how we met and why we’re doing a project together now. So fun to work with an ex.”

“He’s still hung up on you.”

“I know. I feel bad.”

Archer looks puzzled. “Why do you feel bad about that?”

“I don’t really know…I feel bad he’s not happy, I guess?”

“You’re a good person, Quinn,” he says softly, and then leans forward. “Software and robotics. You really are building some sort of badass car for a vigilante, aren’t you?”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

“You already established you were. So you might as well tell me.”

I laugh and take another drink of lemonade. “All I can say is if robots really do take over the world, at least I’ll know the code to shut them down.”

*

I reach over the bed, fishing my underwear out of the little space between the nightstand and the bed frame. After lunch, we had some time to kill before Archer needed to get to the airport to fly back to Indy.

Hand in hand, we walked the few blocks from the pizza place to his hotel, going up to his room for the sole purpose of having sex. In any other situation, this would have been weird. Tense. Embarrassing maybe.

But not with Archer. Things change the moment we take our clothes off, and there’s no awkwardness. No hesitation or waiting to see if Archer is going to tell me what’s on his mind. He’s very open and even more personal. We’re amazing together, making me feel bad for doubting the validity in the sex scenes I’ve read about in romance novels. It is possible to have multiple orgasms, and I think Archer was going for a record this time.

Lifting my ass off the mattress, I slip on my undies and lay back, heart still racing. Archer hasn’t put his clothes back on yet, which is fine by me, and is lying next to me, chest glistening with sweat.

He rolls to his side, slips his arms around my middle, and pulls me to him.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“I don’t want you to either.” I rake my fingers through his dark hair and move as close as I can, needing to feel every inch of him against me. I close my eyes, trying to commit this feeling to memory. I have no idea when I’ll see Archer Jones again.

He lets out a breath and brushes my hair out of my face.

“I’m glad I ran into you, Quinn,” he says. “The last twenty-four hours have been incredible.”

“Yeah, they have. I wish we could do it again.”

“Me too.” His lips meet mine. “Me too.”

We stay tangled together until the last possible minute and then scramble to get dressed. Archer’s already packed and ready to go, all he has to do is leave. Finally, and now at risk of missing his flight, we get in the elevator to go downstairs.

The tension starts to come back, and I’m not sure quite what to do. Say goodbye? See you later? I knew getting into a long-term, committed relationship wasn’t on the horizon. Yeah, I really like Archer, but we live very separate lives. But I have to say something, right?

I don’t know what to expect, or if he even wants to hear from me after this. Do we need to talk about this? Archer’s been a part of our family for a decade. If we don’t talk and then see each other at the rehearsal dinner…I internally shudder. And I thought riding down to the lobby was an awkward moment.

I hang back while Archer checks out, and we walk together in silence out of the hotel.

“Well,” I start, turning to face Archer.

“I’ll call you,” he says, and his deep brown eyes catch mine, and my heart aches already. There is no one else for me but him. He gets me. Goes along with my weird sense of humor. Makes me feel in-fucking-credible in the bedroom.

He’s so close yet so far away, and that little voice of hope that lives deep inside my heart screams at me to tell him how I feel. My brain overrides this time, going into self-preservation mode. It already hurts enough leaving after the amazing weekend we had together. Telling him that I think we should see each other again—soon—will only make it worse.

The timing is all wrong.

Archer is finishing his residency, who knows where he’ll end up.

Not to mention how much of a fit Dean would throw if he found out Archer and I hooked up. Though really…I don’t see what the big deal is. Everyone likes Archer.

Archer’s eyes sear into mine, and I wish so badly for super powers right now. I’d will him to say exactly what’s on his mind, because even if it’s not what I want to hear, at least I’d know what the hell is going on inside his brain.

Not going with words, Archer takes me by the waist, pulls me close, and kisses me hard. Tingles run all the way through me, and someone catcalls as they walk past us. He doesn’t need words to say what his kiss is telling me.

He’s saying goodbye.

Once the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes falling shut. His arms wrap around me, and he gives me a tight hug. I never want it to end.

“I’ll see you,” he says, breaking away. And then he gets into a cab.

I know I will see him again. But the question is, how will he feel when I do?