8. Archer

Chapter 8

Archer

Mum: I've got a surprise for you.

Why does that instantly make me suspicious?

Archer: What surprise?

My phone rings. Mum, which isn't a shocker. She prefers to talk rather than text.

"Hi, Mum."

"I've arranged for us to have a new family photo session."

"Why? It's not that long since the last one."

"Silly. We need photos of all four of us."

Oh, fuck. What has she done?

It's been three weeks since the wedding reception, and Jacob and I have avoided each other despite Mum and Barry inviting us to various events. A housewarming dinner, the night Mum moved into Barry's home. A theatre trip. A barbecue. I gave excuses for all of them, as I promised I would. From Mum's grumblings, so did Jacob. The trouble is, our refusal to be in the same place at the same time has Mum convinced we hate each other, and that doesn't fit the ‘happy family' she seems desperate to have.

"When?" I ask.

"This afternoon, at two. After Jacob's branch closes at twelve and before you're due at work. We'll go for an early tea afterwards. No excuses, Archer. You won't get to know Jacob if you keep avoiding him."

I already know him. Intimately.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I don't know what he said to upset you at the wedding reception, but I want you to make up and be friends."

"When did you plan this?"

She can't have got another cancellation booking. No one is that lucky.

"Does it matter? I need you to promise you'll be there."

Did she book it straight after the wedding reception? It's a wonder she hasn't arranged a family holiday yet. Hopefully, she never will.

I sigh. "Yes, I'll be there."

"Wear something nice. You'll have time to change before you go to work. See you soon." She ends the call.

I don't have Jacob's number, so I can't text to apologise. He won't think I've got anything to do with Mum's scheme to turn us into best friends, will he?

The cycling proficiency class I run takes up a large chunk of my morning. I love it. The kids are great, and it's fun to watch them improve week after week. Although not fun enough to convince me to go into teaching.

I go home, shower, and choose nice clothes I won't mind staring at when Mum inevitably gives me a photo of the four of us to hang on my wall. This photo shoot is an awful idea. Dinner afterwards is even worse. On the other hand, it's been three weeks. I might have got over my lust for Jacob. My reaction to him might be more akin to a piece of wilted celery than a firm, ripe aubergine. I can hope.

After putting a change of clothes in my rucksack, I walk into town. I'm the last to arrive at the photography studio. The others are in the waiting room. Mum and Barry are talking and laughing. Jacob has a face like thunder. I never knew thunder could be sexy. But all I can think about is making out in the rain. He'd look gorgeous, dripping wet, with his sky-blue shirt plastered to his chest.

I'm fucked.

He doesn't look at me.

"I hope you two are going to smile once we're in the studio," Mum says.

"I'm sure Jacob will. He knows how much it means to us to have some nice photos of the four of us," Barry says.

Jacob winces.

"How was work?" I ask him.

"Fine. Busy."

"I imagine you were run off your feet. I bet a lot of people leave their banking until the weekend."

"It's our busiest day. Well, morning."

"You must be tired."

"Yes."

"I'm never as peppy when I'm tired."

He offers me a grateful smile, which he banishes as the photographer steps out of the studio.

"Ah, you're all here. Would you like to come inside?"

We follow him into the studio. The photographer, Mum, and Barry discuss the shots they'd like while Jacob and I stand to one side.

"Thanks," he whispers.

I scuff the floor with my shoe. "So…how have you been?"

"Fine. You?"

"Also fine."

"This is awkward," we say simultaneously. We laugh.

"It's so lovely to see you two getting along." Mum walks over to us.

I sober instantly. Jacob straightens his back. Tension tightens his shoulders.

"We're going to do lots of group poses. Make sure you smile." She pinches my cheek.

I step back. Jacob is already iffy about being older than me without Mum treating me like a child. Does he still care that I'm younger than him, or has the whole stepbrother thing eclipsed that worry?

The photographer ushers us into various fake poses. For most shots, Jacob and I stand so close our shoulders and arms brush. Every time they do, a jolt of static electricity runs over my skin, and my thoughts rush back to my fantasy of kissing him in the rain. The upside is I'm smiling at the daydream. The downside is I'm low-key freaking out that I might develop a hard-on, which would be embarrassing and impossible to explain.

After a tension-filled hour, we follow the photographer to a smaller room with a desk, computer, and two plush two-seater sofas. Mum and Barry take one, leaving Jacob and me to perch on the other. Even though we sit as far to each side as possible, our thighs still brush. The photographer starts a slideshow of the raw, unedited photos so that we can pick our favourites. Correction: so Mum and Barry can pick their favourites. Correction of the correction: so Mum can pick her favourites.

It's probably a good thing I'm not part of the decision-making process because I only gawp at how damned adorable Jacob is in every shot. His chaotic hair. His luscious lips. His friendly eyes. His warm smile. And his stubble, which felt delightful scraping across my chin and jaw as he kissed me. In my hall. In my bed. In the lift at the hotel. What is wrong with me? Why can't I get Jacob Hart out of my fucking head?

"That's the one. Don't you agree, Barry?" Mum asks.

"I like that one," he says.

"Wonderful. We want three copies in frames, please."

"Three copies?" Jacob asks.

"Yes. One for our house, one for your apartment, and one for Archer's flat."

Jacob deflates a little. I don't blame him. Do I want a picture of him on my wall? Why do I even ask myself that question? I'd love a picture of him on my bedroom wall. It would make great masturbation fodder. I wouldn't mind if it were a picture of us. But a picture of us, Mum and Barry, is as sexy as a damp sponge.

Mum spends another twenty minutes choosing her favourite frame. She opts for a slim silver one. Barry pays.

Mum beams at us. "Dinner. I've made a reservation."

Of course she has. I check my watch. Almost four.

"You've got plenty of time before you have to be at work, Archer."

My shift starts at seven, so I don't have that long. I get her point, though. She wants me present in body and mind so Jacob and I can become best friends. The trouble is, I'm pretty sure the path to being friends leads straight to the bedroom. Despite the way he kissed me at the wedding reception, I'm convinced it's a path Jacob has no interest in taking.

We walk to the restaurant, Mum and Barry taking the lead while Jacob and I trail behind.

"Has Molly said anything else about a blended holiday?" Jacob asks.

"No. But I looked it up, and there's no such thing. Not that it'll stop her booking a holiday for the four of us, but at least there won't be any crazy activities like in the film."

"You watched it?"

I nudge his shoulder with mine. "No need to sound so surprised. I enjoy romcoms from time to time."

"Wow. I didn't expect that."

"Why? Because I look like a jock?"

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Don't worry. I'm not offended. What kind of holiday do you like?"

"Ones that involve a lot of sightseeing."

"Me too. Although Mum's the opposite. Her idea of a good time is two weeks sunbathing."

Jacob hooks his top lip into a disgusted expression.

"Right? I was so bored on the first two holidays we went on. Then I turned fourteen, and she let me wander to explore whatever town we were near."

He frowns. "You didn't go on many holidays together?"

"Let me rephrase. The first two holidays with just the two of us. Before that, we went with my gran. I got my love of sightseeing from her. We'd leave Mum by the pool and explore together. She died when I was eleven."

"I'm sorry."

I shrug. "It's fine. It's been ten years. The weird part is, until I was ten, I thought—Never mind."

His hand brushes against mine, and my skin tingles. "What?"

"Honestly, it doesn't matter. Family stuff. It's boring."

Jacob gives me a sideways look I can't decipher. Is he thinking about asking me to elaborate?

"Families can be complicated," he says at last.

I chuckle. "Tell me about it."

Like fancying my stepbrother. Is he really my stepbrother? Technically, he is. But realistically? We're adults, and we've known each other for five minutes. Surely, it doesn't count?

"This is nice," I say.

"What?"

"Talking. To you."

He smiles. "Yes, it is."

"See? We can get along without wanting to, you know." Jump each other's bones.

He blows out a breath and nods.

"Do you jog?" I ask.

Jacob blinks. "No. Why?"

"Just wondering. I do."

"I could have guessed."

I pinch my brows together. "Why?"

"Because you're sporty. I looked up triathlons."

"You didn't know what they were?"

"I could guess the gist, but I didn't know which sports were involved. Cycling, swimming, and running?" He whistles.

"Yup. My favourite distance is super sprint."

"That sounds short."

I snort-laugh. "Well, it's the shortest distance in adult competition. You do a four-hundred-metre swim, a ten-kilometre bike ride, and a two point five-kilometre run."

"That's not short. I couldn't even dream of being that fit."

"Sure you could. You should come running with me sometime."

"I'd slow you down."

"Maybe, but it would be fun. I set off from mine at six every morning and jog to the canal towpath. I go along there for a bit. How far depends on how energetic I'm feeling and how much time I have. And then double back."

Jacob gives me a thin smile. Does that mean he won't join me for a jog soon? Not that I expected him to.

"If you're interested in starting to jog, I could give you a nought to five K programme," I say.

"Umm—"

"It's okay. It's my hobby. Not yours. Forget it."

"It was a kind offer."

My cheeks become hot. Why am I blushing? "I'll keep the offer open."

It's not the only open offer waiting for him. The other one involves my mouth around his cock. Another thing that won't happen soon. Or ever.

"Do you still have my sword?" I ask.

He coughs. "No."

"No?"

"It's been three weeks. It deflated."

"That's a shame. I guess you can't just blow it to re-inflate it."

He chokes and splutters. I pat him firmly on the back. Mum and Barry stop and turn around.

"What's going on?" Mum asks.

"I think he swallowed a fly," I reply innocently.

Barry twists his mouth into a disgusted frown. "I hate it when that happens."

"I'm fine." Jacob waves his hand, signalling for us to carry on walking. "Don't do that again," he says once Mum and Barry are far enough ahead of us not to overhear our conversation.

I flutter my lashes. "Don't do what?"

"We're not meant to be flirting."

"Yeah. The trouble is, you're too sexy. And you're cute when you're flustered."

"You're trouble."

I grin. "You've only just realised that?"

He rolls his eyes. "If only I'd figured it out before?—"

I'm desperate to finish his sentence, but I don't. "Would you have made a different decision?"

He purses his lips. "Probably not."

His reply gives me the warm fuzzies. "You're going to make me hot and bothered."

He makes a strangled sound.

"You know where I live if you ever change your mind about this whole stepbrother thing being an issue."

"I won't."

"Shame." I jog forward and loop my arm through Mum's.

I look over my shoulder. Jacob is staring at my arse, his expression filled with lust. I wink. His face goes red, and he averts his gaze. It might have been wrong to tease him, but fuck, he's gorgeous when he's ruffled.