Fall For Me Page 11

  I almost jumped when I heard Archer’s voice. “You okay?”

  His voice was rumbly and soft, the mere sound of it ruffling my nerves a little. I was trying to get used to his effect on me, but it was strange. I kept thinking I'd somehow lapse back into not thinking Archer was the hottest man ever known to the universe. No such luck yet.

  “Phoebe?” he prompted, his voice a little clearer this time.

  “I'm fine,” I replied.

  I lifted my head reluctantly from the warm curve of his shoulder to eye the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. The digital numbers blinked in a silver glow at me.

  “It's four thirty, isn't it?” he asked.

  “How did you know?”

  The rustle of his laughter in the darkness sent heat prickling over my skin. “I always wake up at four thirty. I thought I might break myself of the habit being back here in Alaska, but it’s not happening.”

  I smiled at him as I curled my palm into a fist and rested my chin on top of it on his chest. “I tend to get up at five, a whole half hour later.”

  “I don't know, Phoebe, that doesn't seem early enough to me,” he teased.

  I nudged my elbow lightly into his chest. “Five is early. Don't even argue with me about this.”

  His palm slid up my back from where it had been resting just above the curve of my bottom, and he began to slide his fingers through my hair. I felt like a cat about to purr at his casual, easy touch. “Okay, I won't argue with you,” he replied.

  “Have we ever argued?” I asked, honestly wondering.

  “I don't think so.”

  My eyes had adjusted, and I could see his face in the darkness from the pearly light cast from the night-light at the foot of the bed.

  “I can't remember a single argument, not even about dumb stuff,” I said.

  His smile was like a little gift I wanted to snatch and hold close to my heart. “I can't think of any fights we had. If we're getting married, maybe we should practice.”

  “Practice fighting?”

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Why? What would we have to fight about? That’s one of the reasons I think we're such good friends. We just get along. You're not really an argumentative person.”

  “Well, neither are you, but I think most couples fight about something.”

  “Perhaps.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Don't roll your eyes,” he returned, his chest rumbling with a barely-there laugh.

  “There. That was a fight,” I teased.

  When I shifted, my knee brushed against his arousal. That subtle touch sent a zing of electricity through me, radiating outward from my knee.

  “Ignore it,” Archer ordered.

  Flustered, I shifted my leg again even though I had already snatched it back. “Okay, I'll try.” I felt my cheeks heat at how raspy and squeaky my voice sounded.

  “It's morning wood,” he offered matter-of-factly.

  “Is that really a thing?”

  His eyes met mine in the almost darkness, and I felt his shoulders shift in a shrug under me. “Yes and no. Sometimes, guys just wake up like that. I don't really need to do anything about it. It goes away. And then sometimes, I wake up and need to do something about it.”

  My question slipped out before I could think better of it. “Which one is this?”

  He chuckled as his fingers slid up to tease along the downy skin at the back of my neck. I was awash in goose bumps, and my belly felt light and tingly.

  “This is one I'd like to do something about, but we're not doing anything about it,” he said firmly.

  “We're not?” I was incredulous and unbelievably aroused. I could feel the slick heat between my thighs and had to shift my legs slightly to relieve the restless, needy ache.

  “Because I won't make it to the wedding if we're making out all the time.”

  I pressed my lips together, glaring at him. “I think this is kind of ridiculous.”

  “I don't.”

  “Isn't it going to be worse if we don't do anything?”

  “We've got three more nights to get through. We can't be at it all the time.”

  “I think it's ridiculous,” I repeated.

  “Why?” His question came out raspy and somber.

  I suddenly felt uncertain and uncomfortable. “I don't know.”

  “Maybe this whole idea was convenience at the beginning, but it's not anymore.”

  “Maybe,” I hedged.

  “Are you going to start pretending now?” he asked bluntly.

  My heart fluttered, and a sense of tingling lightness stole through me. I took a quick breath of air, needing the oxygen to steady me. “No,” I whispered.

  Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, his fingers slipped into my hair. He drew me closer, bringing his mouth to mine in a kiss almost lazy and so sensual I melted against him. By the time we broke apart, my entire body was pulsing with need and pounding a hard fist against the door of my willpower.

  “Archer, that's not fair,” I gasped.

  “To you or me?” he asked dryly.

  He sounded composed, but I could feel the rapid beat of his heart under my palm where it was splayed against his chest.

  “Tell me everything I missed,” he prompted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s see, we were best friends all the way until I moved away. I sent you a few letters, and you sent me a few. I know that you played basketball.”

  I smiled, my forehead falling to his chest as I shook with laughter. Lifting my head, I took a breath. “I did. I was pretty good. Not good enough for college, though.”

  “That's what I mean. I missed a lot.”

  I found myself filling Archer in on my life, and we traded details about each other. Like the little notes we used to send in elementary school, back when everything seemed so much simpler.

  We never did fall back asleep. Finally, Archer tugged me out of bed, persuading me to take a shower with him. Apparently, showering with him involved bringing me to an orgasm against the tiled wall and leaving me nearly boneless. Steam rose around me with my palms flat against the tile as I tried to catch my breath while sensations ricocheted through every corner of my body.

  “I thought you said we shouldn’t do that too much,” I managed after I caught my breath.

  When I looked at him, he was fully aroused. He shrugged. “I meant me, not you.” At that, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

  By the time I gathered my composure and enough strength to follow him, he already had on a pair of jeans and was tugging a T-shirt over his delectable chest.

  “Do you want to have coffee here, or should we go to Firehouse?” he asked when his head appeared through the neck of his shirt, and he pulled it down over his abs. The fact that shirts hid his abs was a huge disappointment for me, but I’d have to live with it.

  “Do we have groceries and things here?” I asked.

  “Of course, we do.”

  I was discovering there were benefits to Archer’s wealth. “I had the moving team do a grocery run for us. My assistant sent them a list.”

  “Assistants handle grocery lists?” I asked, eyeing him skeptically.

  “All the time.” His lips twitched.

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you prefer?”

  “I'm fine with either. There could be a benefit to us going to Firehouse. We can mention that we've moved in together, that sort of thing.”

  My pulse became unsteady, and I took a shaky breath. “Wow. All of… this.”

  “What's this?” he interjected.

  I circled my hand in the air. “I don't know, making sure people know what's going on. It feels more like we're trying to put on a show, and it's fake.”

  “It’s real.” His tone was firm and confident.

  I still had a towel wrapped around me when Archer crossed over to me. His hands landed on my shoulders, sliding down and coming to rest on my hips. He dipped his head and presse
d a quick kiss on my lips. “It can be both because, originally, it was a convenience thing. You're going to save the planet or at least this one river in Alaska. I was going to make your ex and your old friend feel like the assholes they are. Now, I don't think you care so much about your ex and your old friend.”

  I shook my head. “Not really. I do care about the planet, though. I still care about that.”

  The sharp bark of his laugh ricocheted in my chest. “Is that funny?”

  “Yes and no. Just like fake and real can exist. Of course, you want to save the planet. You’re that kind of person. It’s just a funny situation,” he explained.

  “We should go to town,” I decided.

  “This is real for me, and my family also needs to believe it.”

  “Do they really care?”

  “Most of them don’t. My great-uncle does, though. He would love to maintain control of the company.” Archer’s lips twisted, and something dark flickered in his eyes like the shadows of leaves when the wind blows.

  He moved away quickly, turning and grabbing a flannel shirt to shrug into. I got dressed in a pair of jeans with a fitted V-neck shirt. When I turned, he was waiting in the doorway. His eyes skated over me.

  “I like that shirt,” he commented.

  I looked down. “It's just a shirt. There's nothing special about it.”

  “If it's you, there is. Plus…” He pushed away from the door without a word, crossing to me in three quick strides. “I love this.” His knuckles trailed lightly over the exposed skin between my breasts. His touch felt like fire over my skin. The air around us heated instantly.

  “Oh,” I rasped.

  His touch was gone as quickly as it came. My stomach rumbled, and he grinned. “Hungry?”

  “Yes, I like breakfast,” I said a little defensively.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Phoebe

  “How is the house?” Janet asked as soon as we reached the front of the line.

  “It’s great,” I replied. “Money can't buy happiness, but it does make moving easier.”

  Janet chuckled, and Archer grinned.

  “A crew moved all my stuff. I've never had that happen,” I added.

  “Good. You deserve to be taken care of,” Janet said with a firm nod.

  That was what it felt like with Archer, that he would take care of everything, including me. I liked feeling independent and not needing anyone. I mentally skittered away from savoring that feeling and focused on Janet. “I didn't even pack anything. They did everything for me. Lord knows what they thought of my underwear.”

  “You probably wear cotton,” Janet offered with a wink.

  Heat raced up my cheeks. Archer squeezed my hand because he knew I wore cotton and silk.

  “What'll it be?” Janet prompted.

  “I want that special you made me the other day,” Archer said. “No sugar.”

  “I hate sugar in my coffee,” I interjected. “You know what I prefer, just the house coffee with an extra shot.”

  “Your girl keeps it simple,” Janet offered as she smiled over at Archer and began to prep our coffees.

  His smile felt like a ray of sun coming out from behind a cloud, and I felt myself practically beaming at him. Oh. My. God. He’d turned me into a ridiculous crusher.

  Just then, I heard someone coming in, and I glanced over to see my ex-friend Tasha. Her face was tight. She stopped in the back of the line, lifting her hand in a small wave. I nodded in return. Archer was saying something to Janet about coffee. She finished ringing us up, and we snagged a table in the corner. I could feel the burn of Tasha’s cold gaze on me from across the café.

  After a sip of my coffee, I commented, “She hates me, and I’m not even the one who put us in this position.”

  Archer shrugged. “No, you're not, but that's not how it works.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People who do shitty things don’t usually feel bad about it. Sometimes it's easier to blame it on somebody else.”

  “Are you a human nature expert?” I teased.

  He chuckled. “Definitely not. But I've seen it play out enough in my life. She’s headed this way,” he warned.

  “That’s fine,” I said as I looked over. “I might as well have a conversation with her.” I smiled politely when she stopped beside our table. “Hi, Tasha.”

  My smile did feel a little tight, but I really was okay. The whole thing stung a little, mostly because I'd thought she was the kind of friend who had my back. Instead, she was doing things behind my back.

  “You know, if you did this to make me feel like shit, I just want you to know you did,” she said.

  “What?” I sputtered.

  “Aren't you the one who did something?” Archer interjected pointedly.

  Tasha's cheeks turned a ruddy shade of pink, her fingers curling tightly around her coffee cup. “I did. I know I screwed up, but practically no one wants to come to my wedding.”

  “How is that my fault?” I countered.

  “Because your wedding is way more exciting. It was on some gossip website.”

  “We had nothing to do with that.” I wasn't going to admit to her Archer’s original proposal might’ve been partially because he knew my pride had taken a few kicks. That wasn't what it was about anymore. “Tasha, I'm not trying to hurt you,” I finally said.

  “Okay, well, I wasn't trying to hurt you either,” she insisted.

  “Well, you did. You know it's really not about Dirk. It’s about you screwing around with him behind my back and lying to me. That's not what friends do.”

  She sighed. “I know.” She ran her hand over her hair roughly. I knew she was flustered because she had been my friend before. “Look, I fucked up. Okay, I really did.” Her throat worked with a swallow. “We're calling off the wedding.”

  “You are?” This startled me. Tasha was pretty stubborn, and getting married was a big deal for her.

  “Here's the shitty thing. You said it when you found out about us. If he cheated before, he’ll do it again. I can’t get out of my own way even though I'm the one who put myself in this position,” she said, her voice sounding choked.

  “Tasha, I'm sorry.” Pushing my chair back, I stood quickly and pulled her into a hug.

  She was stiff, but after a moment, she relaxed, and I could feel her shudder and knew she was trying not to cry. My heart pinched. Stepping back, I squeezed her shoulders before my hands fell away. “I know getting married is a big thing for you, the wedding, the whole deal.”

  She swallowed again, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, and I kind of can't really feel good about it when I put myself in this position.”

  The urge to apologize was right there in my throat. I felt myself wanting to tip into it, but this part wasn't my fault. “You're welcome to come to our wedding,” I offered.

  “I know, but I think that's kind of weird. I haven’t been a good friend,” she said, finally saying aloud the part that had hurt me so.

  “I understand. Are you staying in town?”

  Tasha took a quick swallow from her coffee. I felt as if I was watching her batten down her hatches. She straightened her spine and pushed her shoulders back. “I don't think so. I'm going to stay through tomorrow, but I've already booked a flight. If you're ever in Seattle, I'd love to see you.”

  Tasha turned and looked at Archer. “I wasn't here when you lived here, but I know you're Phoebe's oldest friend. It’s really awesome you guys are together.”

  Archer cocked his head to the side, his eyes assessing before he nodded slowly. “I think you mean that,” he said slowly.

  “I do. I fucked up. I’m sorry, I really am,” she whispered.

  She turned to go, but I caught her by the elbow. When she looked back, I offered, “I’m sorry it didn't work out for you.”

  She sucked in a breath and took another sip of coffee before she nodded. “I appreciate that. I don't expect it to happen overnight and realize we may never get back to th
e kind of friends we were before, but just let me know if you ever need anything. I can tell you one thing I've learned from this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your friends are more important than someone else who tempts you to think it's okay to screw them over.” She gave me a fierce hug, and I squeezed her back, then watched as she walked out of the café.

  I sat down slowly, meeting Archer’s eyes. “Well, that sucks that she's not getting married.”

  “No, but I think it makes sense,” he commented.

  “I'm just sorry she's hurt.”

  “You're a really good friend, Phoebe.” Archer’s gaze was so intent, my heart kicked in response.

  “You are too.”

  He smiled. “You know they say the most important part about marriage is having a solid base. I think we have that.”

  My lips curled into a smile. “You do?”

  “Yes. You're a good friend, and I'm a good friend. I can promise you I wouldn't do anything like what Tasha did.”

  I sighed. “I don't really know what led her to do it.”

  “Sex?” he prompted dryly.

  “Dirk wasn’t even that good in bed.” My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped.

  Archer waggled his brows. “No?”

  “Archer,” I warned.

  His tongue pushed into the corner of his mouth as he cast me a sideways grin.

  I sighed again. “You didn't really need to know that, but no.”

  “Yeah, but maybe he was for her. Plus, there's always the thrill factor. I wouldn't know anything about it, but we all have a friend who screwed around on somebody. The forbidden has its temptations,” he observed.

  “I suppose. Well, now it's all about the environment,” I added dryly.

  He reached for my hand, lifting it and dropping a kiss in the center of my palm. “I think that's worthy, but more than that, you're worthy.”

  We smiled at each other just as his phone rang where it was sitting on the table. He spun it to look down. Once again, I felt as if I watched shadows pass through his gaze. His expression was careful when he looked up at me, and I knew he didn't want me to wonder what he was thinking. “What is it?”