Chapter 8

I t took longer than expected to sort through the inventory. Two days, to be exact. Some books were untitled, and I had to read through them to figure out their category.

I attended a second yoga class, but that time, we didn't have wine. Though the rest of the pack worked on the heat house, I didn't feel absolutely at ease. Noah was also there the whole time with Archer in the gym. He was quickly winning over my new friends, and while that should have pleased me, it didn't.

Today I declined the invitation. I wanted to finish setting up the store so I could officially open. Time was ticking on the lease.

After much hard work, all the books were shelved by sunset.

When a knock sounded at the door, I put the lid back on the paint and ran to the front of the shop. I slowed to a halt when I realized the person standing at the door wasn't Noah.

Archer was waving at me in the darkness. He pressed his nose to the glass door and moved down a little so it reminded me of a pig's snout.

A laugh burst out of my mouth, and I opened the door. "What are you doing here? "

"I think the question is: What are you doing here? It's past eight. Where's Noah?"

"I thought he was working out with you again."

"Not today." Archer twisted his mouth to the side and scanned the empty parking lot. "Can I come in?"

I thought about the cameras. "Noah doesn't want me letting strangers inside when he's not here."

Archer braced his hand on the door and centered his beautiful honey-brown eyes on me. "I'm not a stranger."

An unbidden silence hovered between us.

"You've got a shitload of drunks hoofing it from the bars. They can see you through the glass," he said, tapping it for emphasis. "Trust me, Noah won't mind if I come inside. You haven't met the jackasses in this town. For all you know, they're escaped convicts."

I crossed my arms. "And which prison did you escape from?"

Archer grinned handsomely, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Then he leaned in and sniffed. "Do I smell paint? Maybe you're high. That explains the bad decisions."

I reluctantly stepped back. "Come in."

He swaggered in and locked the door behind him. "So… this is the famous bookstore I keep hearing about." His gaze wandered from the cameras to the shelves that ran to the back of the store, each filled to the brim. "Holy shit. You've been busy."

When he walked ahead to check out the books, I adjusted my green dress and made sure it wasn't tucked inside my panties in the back. I hadn't expected anyone to show up out of the blue, and suddenly I was tightening my ponytail and straightening my bra.

He chuckled. "I'm scared to turn around and see why you're jingling so much."

I put my arms down and clasped my hand over my charm bracelet while following him. The pressure of knowing what to say was eating away at me, so instead, I remained silent and waited for him to speak.

Archer regarded the spines of eighteenth-century Chitah poetry with reverence. He periodically bent over to get a closer look but touched nothing. His quiet admiration impressed me.

"This is incredible," he said. "I've never seen this many Breed books in one place. Doesn't the higher authority archive these?"

"They're only interested in the ones that implicate people in crimes."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Really?"

I averted my eyes. "That's what my father told me. He didn't collect those. Most of these require special preservation because of their age, but I don't have the means to do that. Perhaps whoever buys them will transcribe the contents before the paper disintegrates."

"I guess nothing's meant to last forever."

When we reached the back of the room, Archer approached the table and stared at the cardboard on the wall. "What's that?"

"My vision board. Robyn gave me the idea and said it would help me figure out what I wanted, I guess. Maybe it's silly."

He canted his head, studying the images pasted on the cardboard of books, wild horses, a peaceful river, a silhouette of a family holding hands, and an apple pie.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere?" I asked him.

"Not really. I've driven all up and down the West Coast but never out of the country."

"Why not?"

Archer scratched his neck. "I don't know anything about foreign laws or Councils. I might get thrown in jail for a thousand years."

I chuckled. "Did you plan on breaking the law?"

He gave me a wolfish grin. "It's illegal to be this handsome." Then he turned his attention back to the board. "Why the pie? "

"I guess it makes me think of home." A smile hovered on my lips. "I also love apple pie."

"Did your mom make pie?"

"You don't want to hear all this," I said quietly.

"Try me."

I touched my bracelet and played with the charms. "I never met her. My father wanted an heir, so he found a woman and made an arrangement."

Archer's eyes lit with interest. "Like adoption?"

"No," I said, turning my focus to the paints on the table. "He offered to take care of her if she would give him a child and raise it. Only… she never got the chance since she died in childbirth."

He gently touched my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

It was considerate of him to offer his sympathies for a woman I'd never met, and the sincerity in his voice quickened my heart.

"This is great, Cici. I'll have to come check out the final version when you're done. Maybe I need a vision board. I can't seem to figure out what I want in life." On a sigh, he lowered his gaze to the folding table where I'd been painting. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a sign—for the store."

I joined his side and stared at the picture I'd been creating for the past hour on a flat piece of cardboard. Around the store name, the letters of which I'd painstakingly decorated, I had painted a green worm reading a book, a pair of glasses on his gigantic head. I'd seen the image somewhere before, but I couldn't recall the details.

Not that I had one iota of artistic talent to pull it off.

The laugh that suddenly pealed out of Archer was loud enough to wake the dead. The harder he tried to stop, the worse it got. He doubled over, flattening his palm on the table. Just when I thought he'd settled down, he glanced up at the sign again and laughed so riotously that a flash of irritation raced through my veins.

I crossed my arms and frowned at my picture.

Archer pulled himself up, but when he saw it again, tears streamed down his face. "I can't… I can't," he managed to say between fits of laughter.

"It's not that funny."

Perhaps I'd been staring at it for so long that I was blind to what he saw.

Archer finally got up and took out his phone. After snapping a photo, he waited, staring at the screen. It suddenly chimed, and he showed me the message.

Krys:

Stop sending me your dick pics

Archer laughed again but buried it deep. "Sorry, Cici. It's just that you're not an artist. I'm not, either, if that makes you feel better. You don't want to hang up anything that's shaped like a… Well, let's just say it doesn't resemble a worm." He scrolled through his phone. "Book Haven is a great name though. It's simple, fits the town, and people won't mistake it for a candle shop."

When I saw him typing on his phone again, I swiped my hand to grab it.

Archer pivoted. "Relax. I'm just sending it to Robyn. She might have ideas since she's an actual artist."

"It's only temporary. What does it matter?" While looking at the sign, my bottom lip quivered.

"Hey." Archer put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, Cici, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"It's not that." I sat on the edge of the table.

He sat next to me. "Then what is it?"

I stared at the shelves, still able to smell the ancient paper over the paint.

He leaned forward, trying to meet eyes with me but failing. "I know you're the quiet type, but I'm just trying to understand what's bothering you. If it's something I said, tell me."

"My father spent a lifetime collecting these. Now they're sitting on a shelf in an empty store. Who's going to buy them in a small town like this? If I can't find a home for them, they'll go off to some junk collector. I don't love the books—it's not that. But when I see them, it reminds me of how much they meant to him . It feels like I'm giving away the things he loved. It feels like I'm forgetting him." I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Letting go isn't easy, but you're not forgetting him." Archer turned his gaze up. "Your father must have been a smart man if he collected all these."

"He was." I anchored my palms against the table and added my weight. "He was around nine hundred when he died."

"Are you kidding me? How old are you?"

"I'm not five hundred, if that's what you're thinking. He had me later in life. I'm thirty-eight."

"He waited a long time for kids."

I smiled, thinking about the long life my father had lived. "In the early years, he didn't have a trade, so he worked whatever jobs he could get."

"I'm sure. It was the Middle Ages."

Chuckling softly, I said, "Even older than that. He didn't remember a lot of his earlier life. I'm not sure if that had to do with his age or if he was just starting to forget things. He worked for years as a historian for several Councils, but he didn't make tons of money. It was mostly research." I stared down at my black boots. "He was like me."

Archer looked across his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Reserved. Quiet. He separated himself from the Breed community because of the politics and anarchy. We lived in the human district. That's where I grew up and lived until he passed. I don't have other family. He was the world to me."

Archer's hand inched closer. "I'm sorry."

Just when our pinkies touched, I gasped as the table spontaneously collapsed beneath us. We hit the floor with a deafening bang , and everything scattered. Archer fell across my legs, and the paint jars toppled over and splashed everywhere.

"My sign!" I flew forward, nearly crushing his head between my legs as I rescued my sign. Then I breathed a sigh of relief and set it aside. "Are you okay?"

Archer turned over, green paint covering his cheek. "I think you crushed my skull like a melon, but sure, save the worm."

Streaks of red paint colored my left leg, the green blending in with my dress. The cheap folding table behind us was angled down.

Using his hand, Archer pushed to a sitting position. When he raised his hand to wipe green paint dripping from his chin, I caught his wrist.

"Paint," I warned him, showing him the daffodil-yellow liquid on his palm. "Stay there. I'll get something to clean up."

I stood, and when I stepped around him, my foot slipped on the liquid.

Archer launched forward and attempted to break my fall, but instead, I wound up pinning his hand to the floor with my crotch.

In the aftermath, I located my embarrassment. "Whoopsie-daisy."

He barked out a laugh. "Did you just say ‘ whoopsie-daisy '? You realize my handprint is now on your?—"

I scooted back. His fingers sensually sliding down my leg unlocked a memory but only briefly before I assessed our situation. Laughter felt like the appropriate response, but a sense of rising panic forced me to my feet. "Noah's going to be here any minute. I need to clean this up. "

After racing into the small bathroom, I stripped off my panties. Running them under the faucet wouldn't remove the yellow handprint from the white fabric, so I left them floating and wiped off my legs and arms.

"Hand me paper towels," he called out.

I ran several sheets under the water and also gave him dry ones. After cleaning the paint from my skirt, I opened the door to evaluate the damage.

On his knees, Archer studiously wiped the color off the floor. He'd already erected the table and put the lids back on the jars. Even the store sign was thoughtfully propped against the wall.

I collected a clean paper towel from the table. "Come here."

He sat back on his heels and reclined his head. "What?"

I wiped it across his cheek. "You've got paint all over you."

"I guess that means I have a colorful personality."

After meticulously wiping his face, I used a clean rag to work on his hair, all while turning a worried gaze about the room.

He caught my wrist. "It's just paint."

But it wasn't just paint. It was a mess. It was a show of disrespect and laziness. It was an example of how I didn't value anything.

"Noah doesn't like messy."

Archer stood and raked his stained hand through his hair as if making a point.

"Are your slovenly ways supposed to impress me?" I asked.

He swiped a dab of paint from the table and tapped my nose. Then he arched an eyebrow in a challenge.

I had an inexplicable urge to laugh and splash paint right back on him, but…

"You need to leave. He'll be here any minute." I wiped my nose with a dry paper towel and assessed Archer's outfit, which now resembled abstract art. "I'm sorry I ruined your clothes. I wasn't even thinking about that. "

"You worry too much, cutie-pie. That's the most fun I've had in a while." After collecting the dirty rags and disposing of them, Archer took off his black loafers and checked the bottoms. "My clothes can be replaced. Your books can't. I hope I didn't wreck anything," he said, glancing at the shelf close by. "Maybe you should call Noah. I don't like leaving you here alone."

"You're never alone when you have books."

When my stomach growled, I covered it with embarrassment.

Archer frowned. "Did you eat anything today?"

I shrugged. "I had a big breakfast."

"Not big enough. Here's how we solve your waiting-game situation." After putting his shoes back on, he bent over the table and used a marker to write something. Then he showed it to me.

"I'm at the Rabbit Lounge?"

Archer jerked his head, inviting me to follow him. "We'll hang it on the door so he'll know where to find you. That way, he won't see the mess, and maybe he'll feel better knowing someone's looking after you."

"I'm not sure he'd feel better if he knew it was you."

"He doesn't know about us, does he?" Concern flickered in his eyes.

"No. Of course not."

After turning out the light and locking up, we made a slow stroll across the parking lot.

Archer veered away from his car. "Let's walk, just in case he drives by," he said. "We'll get Hope's car later."

"Thanks."

I gazed up at the rising moon.

"How did your father die?" he asked.

"Old age. I think he knew his time was coming."

"He lived a long life. Some die of old age at three hundred."

"Everyone's different," I agreed, knowing that we averaged several hundred years but sometimes it just depended on genetics. I bent over and scooped up a handful of gravel. "In the end, he started getting his affairs in order. The books went into storage, and he sold a lot of his personal effects. We lived in a charming home in Austin, but it was a rental. I didn't know that until right before he died." I threw a few pebbles and listened to them skitter across the road.

"Why didn't he own a home?"

"My father didn't understand how to navigate around human traps and avoid government and taxes. He was afraid to buy land or a house from them."

"Why didn't he shop on the Breed side? The Council usually handles stuff like that."

I lengthened my stride to match his pace. "Because he wanted to live in the human district. He rented from a Mage who collected his money and took care of everything else."

"Seems like a lot of trouble."

I threw another pebble. "He was an intellectual, but he was just…"

"Ignorant." Archer glanced down at me. "I don't mean that negatively. Most of us will eventually get like that as we age. Technology changes, the world changes, and we live in the past. Not everyone acclimates."

After dropping the gravel, I dusted off my hands. "He spent most of his money on books in the later years. They were his treasures. He taught me a lot, and he assumed I'd go into his profession. But I've never wanted to work for the higher authority or Councils. Plus, I prefer fiction."

"You mean swashbuckling romances with hunky pecs on the cover?"

I sputtered out a laugh. "What?"

Archer walked backward in front of me, the outdoor security light revealing a devilish grin. "That steamy book you were reading while we were moving boxes. The cover model's shirt was ripped off. What was the title again? ‘Torrid' something."

I was blushing, and thankfully he couldn't tell in the shadows.

He rejoined my side. "Maybe you should sell those instead."

"They're too ubiquitous. You can walk into any airport or grocery store and find the same books because they're mass-produced. I don't have the same avid interest in nonfiction as my father, but wouldn't it be something to sell Breed-written romances and thrillers? I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who would love to publish a book but don't want to deal with the human world."

Archer chuckled. "Sounds like it could be a lucrative business. Maybe I should learn to write."

"And what kind of book would you write?"

"Once upon a time, there lived a man whose shirts kept falling off him."

I smiled. "That's deep."

After a beat, he said, "Maybe I'd write a book about a guy who lost his way."

I found Archer easy to talk to, and perhaps part of that comfort stemmed from us having once been intimate. The deep conversations with him satisfied a part of me that had been neglected for years. Noah never engaged with me this way, let alone asked about my father.

Archer turned around when headlights blinked into view up ahead, but the car slowed and stayed on the opposite side to avoid us.

"How did you manage the bills after he died?" he asked.

"Between the rent, food, and burial expenses, the money didn't last long. He was still doing contract work until that last year. When he died, so did the income. Then the man renting the place informed me he was going to sell, and I didn't have enough money. He told me he never intended to rent out the house for that long, but he was beholden to my father. When my father died…"

"He felt like the favor wasn't owed anymore," Archer finished.

We moseyed down the road, Archer to my left, creating a barrier between me and any passing cars. When a truck gunned toward us, Archer hooked his arm around me. With lightning speed, he led me off the road, protectively shielding me while staring daggers at the vehicle as it passed. My heart thumped wildly in his warm and familiar embrace.

"Asshole," he mumbled, leading me back to the road. "When did you meet Noah?"

"Two years ago, after my father died. It was a scary time. I only had two months to find a new place. The owner was bringing people to the house to show it, and that's when Noah walked in."

"He wanted to buy it?"

I smiled. "No. But he was with a man who did. He used to work as a personal guard. He flirted with me, and I was too shy to say anything. The owner wanted me out of the way, so I sneaked away into the library while he showed the buyer the house. The buyer sent Noah away so he could discuss money, and that's how we met. Noah kept me company in the library, and we talked for a long while. Before he left, he asked me out on a date to a fancy Breed restaurant. I was so nervous."

Archer shepherded me away from the road to let a car pass. "Was that your first time in a Breed place?"

I glanced up at him. "Yes. I lived a pretty sheltered life. But he was sweet and persistent." I smiled, remembering the way Noah pursued me like I was the only woman on the planet. "He brought me flowers and took me shopping for clothes. Then one night, we went to the lake, and he asked me to move in with him. In fact, he insisted. It had to be fate, right? I was close to being homeless, and Noah walked into my life at a time when I needed help. That has to mean something. "

Archer rubbed the back of his neck.

I realized how the conversation was making him uncomfortable, given the circumstances.

Does he really want to know about your love life, Cecilia? Stop rambling.

"My father also had a debt collector show up. Noah took care of it."

"He paid him?"

"Well, he didn't push the man off a cliff."

Archer chuckled, and I loved that he got my silly jokes.

I gathered my dress to one side when a gust of wind threatened to lift it. "Are you from Texas?"

"Oregon."

"What brought you here?"

"A bus."

I playfully shoved his arm while laughing.

Car headlights coming toward us revealed Archer's wide grin.

"I came here to join the pack. Well, Krys and I. We're cousins."

"That's a long way. How do you like it here?"

"It's hot and muggy. I don't know. It's all right, I guess. Not a lot to do around here."

Slowing my pace, I said, "It must have been hard starting over. Noah and I moved here six months ago, and even though it's only two hours from Austin, it feels like another planet."

Up ahead, the neon sign of the Rabbit Lounge came into view.

"You know what I'm really wondering?" he asked.

"Why you're buying dinner for a woman who spilled paint all over you?"

He chuckled softly. "No, but you raise a good point."

A car horn honked repeatedly behind us from the store parking lot .

"That's Noah." I stopped in my tracks, wondering if he would get out to read the sign or wait in the car for me. Then I turned to Archer, whose hand was tucked in his jeans pocket. "What did you want to ask me?"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure out why you haven't asked me the most obvious question."

My mind scrambled. Like what am I doing hanging out with a man I slept with? Did he think I was a good lover or the worst he's ever had? Has he told anyone about what we did? Why is he taking me out to dinner? Why is he asking my boyfriend to work out with him? Why does he care about my father?

"Come on, Cici. Don't play dumb."

"I have a million questions, Archer. I don't know the one you're expecting to hear."

An engine thundered toward us, headlights illuminating Archer's right side.

"How I lost my arm," he bit out. "Why haven't you asked me that?"

I flicked a glance to his left arm where the sleeve covered it. "Because it's none of my business. I mean, yes, I may have wondered. But that's not the most pressing question I've had on my mind."

He frowned. "Then what is?"

Noah zoomed up next to us and honked, making me jump out of my skin. He hopped out, striding toward us with a stiff gait and narrow eyes. "What's going on here?"

"Hey, man. What's up?" Archer said. "Did you see the sign? I saw the lights on at the bookstore and thought I'd check on your girl. A lot of jackasses come and go from the bars down there, and you can bet they'd get curious about the lights being on. I figured I'd walk her over to the bar and get her something to eat."

Noah slid his arm around me. "That's real thoughtful. What happened to you ? "

Archer looked down at his clothes. "Paint. I have to get home and work out before bed. I didn't plan on staying out for this long. You two should head over to the Rabbit Lounge and grab a bite."

"I thought they only served lunch?" he asked.

Archer gave him a sly grin. "One of the perks of being a packmate. They keep a few lunch leftovers in case one of us goes up there and is hungry, but I think Mercy's incentivizing us to hang out there instead of Dragonfly's."

Noah scoffed. "Women. They're always scheming something. No, we have to head out."

"Are you sure?" Archer gestured toward the bar. "It's free. Just tell them I sent you."

"Thanks anyhow, but we've got plans."

I glanced up. "We do?"

"How would you like to take a trip to your hometown?"

"Tonight?"

He chuckled. "I came back so you could pack a bag."

"But… I plan to open the store tomorrow."

Noah withdrew his arm. "You don't want to go? I had this whole thing planned. Goddammit, Cecilia. Really? Now everything's ruined."

"Hold up," Archer said. "One night isn't a big deal. Some of us can get the word out that your store opens the day after tomorrow. Then it won't be crickets when you flip the sign on the door."

"You see?" Noah gestured to Archer, and suddenly I felt like the unreasonable one.

"I'm sorry. Of course I want to go."

Noah scratched the back of his neck. "Good. We'll be back Friday."

"Friday? I can't, Noah. One night, maybe. But?—"

"My job wants me working two shifts," he snapped. "That's the deal. Do you think I'm leaving you home alone for that long? Anyhow, you wouldn't be able to drive to the bookstore without a car."

"She can stay with us," Archer offered.

"Not your business."

"Gotcha." Archer held up his hands and backed off.

I stepped closer to Noah, my voice low. "You paid for the lease, and I need every one of those days I can get."

"What difference does it make if a stranger buys them or a dealer? Do you think I plan to throw them in the dumpster?"

The thought had crossed my mind.

"Forget it," Noah growled. "I'll just stay here and lose my job."

"What if one of the girls stays with her?" Archer tossed out while avoiding eye contact. "You won't have to worry about leaving her with a wolf pack. I get it. Our girls will make sure no one comes around."

Noah raked his hand through his hair. "I don't know."

Archer drew closer to him, leaving me out. "Sounds like your boss is riding you. This might work out better. You can go back to the motel after your shift and sleep instead of having to worry about your woman sitting in there alone all day. Unless you take her to work with you."

Noah cursed. "I can't do that."

"I'll check with Joy or Mercy. The others have commitments. Joy sits around most of the time knitting, so I don't think she'd mind."

Noah heaved a sigh and watched a truck drive past. "I have to head back tonight. Can they come on short notice?"

Archer pulled out his phone and stepped away. "I'll make the call."

"Make sure nobody else knows. I don't want the locals around here getting wind that my girl is staying by herself. That'll be on you." Noah walked me back to the car. "Are you okay with this?"

"I'm fine." I tucked myself against him. "Thanks for understanding."

"Who said I'm understanding? I don't have a choice. Just behave. No going out, no drinking. Just work and home—that's it. Those girls are a bad influence. Wolves run wild and do whatever the hell they feel like. Remember that."

I drew back. "They're really nice if you get to know them."

Noah shook his head. "They're not the type of girls you want to make friends with, Cecilia. I let you do those yoga classes, but you need to focus on the store instead of socializing. They got you drunk the first day they met you. Is that what friends do?"

I shrugged.

Noah put his arms around me tight. "All you need is me, baby. Aren't I enough?"

"Of course you're enough. But there's nothing wrong with having friends."

"You didn't need friends when you lived with your father. Now, suddenly, you need friends? Do you want me to quit my job so I can sit at home with you all day and be your friend?"

"Why are you being like this?"

He closed the distance between us. "Do you know why you shouldn't make friends here? Because we're moving back to Austin soon. I have a special offer lined up, and it pays well."

"How well?"

He caressed my cheek. "Once I get my advance, I'll have enough to buy property in the greater Austin area. It'll be close to my employer and out of the city, so we won't have to deal with neighbors. This time, I'll make sure we're not close to any packs. I'm gonna get you out of this shithole they call a town. That's a promise."