Asshole! Jerk! Coward!
This is the second time in a row I’m leaving Archie with curse words in my head. The nerve of the guy! I know we had a moment. I know he likes me. Is he scared to act on it because of my brothers?
Dang cockblockers.Little Hope is too small for all the Benson siblings.
But maybe it was a good thing since you don’t need the complications of a relationship? Especially with one of your brother’s friends,my inner voice suggests helpfully, but I shut it down. For a man like Stephan, I could make an exemption. NotArchie. Stephan. ‘Complications’ next to his name don’t look so scary.
I pull into the driveway of the tiny house I’m renting. I’ve been living here for two years now, and every neighbor knows what time I go pee in the morning. So, it takes me by surprise to find a note stuck to my door. Every neighbor has my phone number, so why didn’t they just shoot me a message?
I take the note and open it.
Hey, hun. It’s Mrs. Roberts from 22 Pine St. Your boyfriend came around, asking for you. He said he has a surprise for you and will be back. I thought I’d let you know so you can get dressed all fancy like young people do. Xo xo!
Oh, Mrs. Roberts. Good intentions never pave the road to heaven. I know it’s not the saying, but it sure represents me better.
I nervously look around, scared ‘the boyfriend’ will jump out at me from the dark. Finding no one, I quickly unlock the door and rush inside. Once I’m in, I lock both locks and run around the house, checking the back door and all the windows. Feeling a little safer, I get in the shower and blast the hot water, washing the dirty feeling off my suddenly cold body.
I have a feeling that ‘the boyfriend’ and the sender of the messages are the same person, and it terrifies me. Now I’m not just paranoid; my fear came true—they know where I live. The security system sounds like a real necessity now, and not a vague idea in the back of my mind.
I’m contemplating texting, but I don’t have a choice, so I pull out my phone, findhisnumber, and shoot him a message.
Is he still in prison?
The reply is instant. I’ll never know how he can reply so fast when he has so much stuff to do.
Yes. Why?
Nothing. Just making sure.
A couple of minutes later another message comes through.
Just double-checked. He is still locked up. Let me know if you have any problems.
Thanks. Will do.
Will not. I want to be as far away from that world as possible.
I force myself to push my worries away, quickly wash myself, and get into bed, considering I have to be up in three hours. Young or not, the lack of sleep will surely show on my face tomorrow, and I want to look at my best.
The next morning my shoulder aches, my eyes are red, and my whole body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. Not my best day, for sure.
I take two aspirins and get myself ready for the wedding. Today, I put extra care into my make-up and lingerie. Even though no one will see my undies, beautiful stuff always makes me feel better, so my dresser is stuffed with lace and leather.I truly believe confidence comes from within. And from under your clothes, so to speak.
I arrive at the Dancing Pony at ten, one hour before the ceremony. I wasn’t asked to do anything special, so I wasn’t needed early, but still, if you’re not early—you’re late.
Mom meets me at the door, hands covering her mouth.
“Honey, you look so beautiful!” She touches my hair and looks at me in wonder. “Did you curl it?”
“I didn’t.” I pull the curl back. I totally did.Just for myself, alright?That and the lingerie act as a double weapon.
“Anyway, it looks beautiful.” She kisses my cheek and flies away to oversee some tasks in need of micromanaging.
“She’s right, you do,” comes a low voice from behind me, and I turn around, nearly giving myself whiplash as my eyes find Archie standing two feet away. He’s smoking hot in his black suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie that Freya picked for the groomsmen.
His hair is pulled back away from his face, but a few wayward strands keep falling over his forehead. He’s clean-shaven, and a dark tattoo plays peekaboo from behind his collar, making him ten times more handsome—a nearly impossible feat, considering he’s already a hundred on a ten-point scale.
He owns this bad-boy vibe, barely restrained by social stigmas, with enough class to shame any of the royals. His dark eyes hide a mystery that I instantly need to solve.
