Graphically Novel (Love Hashtagged #3) (4 page)

Archer shuffled down the street, head down, and hands shoved in his pockets. He’d gone for a walk, hoping to clear his head. He couldn’t make his mind focus on any one topic long enough for him to figure out a solution, so his thoughts swirled with concerns he didn’t have answers for.

He’d have to rearrange some of his orders for the month, to pay his power bill. There was no way around it. But what about next month? Or the month after?

And then, there was Tori. Who, given everything else, should be at the bottom of his worry list. She was at the forefront of his mind—the incredible night with her, her voice, her pleas, and the fact that with one little verbal slip she’d been gone. He hadn’t seen her for over a week, and she ignored his texts.

He could stop by her house, but if she was working—and there was a ninety-nine percent chance of that—it would be easy for her to tell him she didn’t have time. He shouldn’t have pushed her the other day, but she said she was okay with the no-strings sex. A bitter laugh rolled through him. He should’ve known better. She was so closed off. Why would this be any different?

Is it possible this doesn’t all fall on her?
The question nagged him. All right, so maybe mentioning Riley hadn’t been the best idea. It wasn’t as if he compared the two, though. And Riley had been the furthest thought from his mind when Tori sat naked in his lap.

The memory played through his head, temporarily distracting him. Middle of the street—not the best place for a hard-on. He needed to figure out how to get Tori to talk to him again.
Maybe start with an apology?
And he needed to stop talking to himself.

A familiar voice caught his attention. Great. Now he was hearing Tori. He looked anyway, and there she was, a little ways down the street, outside her future sister-in-law’s diner. On the phone. Go figure.

Whoever she was talking to—guessing wasn’t difficult; it would be someone from work—had her pacing, gaze on the ground and upper lip pulled in a sneer.

Even engulfed in a heavy cloud of irritation, she looked incredible. She’d tied her long hair back into a bun and held it in place with a pen. The squares on her Tetris T-shirt seemed strategically placed, to draw the eye to her chest.

She hung up, a scowl marring her face, and then headed inside without seeing him.

This was an opportunity to clear the air. And next month’s power bill hadn’t come yet, so he had a little more time to find a solution to that particular problem. He pushed into Gwen’s diner. Even in a crowded dining room, it only took a second to spot Tori at a table in a back corner, checking her phone every few seconds.

He dropped onto the bench across from her. “Come here often?”

She let out a tiny squeak and looked up. “Holy shit. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He tried to mean it. He hadn’t wanted to startle her, and he had to force his hand to stay by his side instead of brushing over her red cheeks. “We haven’t talked in a while, so I wanted to say
hi
.”

“I know. I’ve been—”

“Busy. Right.” He’d expected that. “But you’ve got a few minutes now?”

“I had to drop off fabric samples for Gwen’s dress, and she’s making me sit and eat, but I have to get back to work soon.”

Of course she did. He didn’t want to push her into an uncomfortable situation, but they had to have this conversation.

“She’s doing me a favor, so lunch is on me,” Gwen said from behind him. “You want to toss anything on her ticket?”

He wasn’t so broke he couldn’t afford to feed himself. He didn’t need charity.
It’s a genuine offer.
It didn’t matter. The logic couldn’t squash the whisper of envy that Gwen could afford to do things like give away free meals, while he struggled to pay utilities. “Water. I don’t know if I’m staying.”

“One cheeseburger, extra cheddar.” Gwen spun away.

Apparently, he was predictable. Another day he might put up a valiant front and argue, but right now, he’d rather be talking to Tori. Who continued to glance at her phone every few seconds.

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Be honest with me?” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“Of course.”

That had been too quick. Too easy. But he’d take it for now. “Either we move past this, or we stop speaking for good.” He winced at the bitter taste of the ultimatum, but he wasn’t going to play a game of
nothing’s wrong
, when something obviously was.

“It’s nothing.” Again her answer came too fast. “I’ve been busy.”

“Right. I’m sorry about what I said. I wasn’t trying to compare—” He cut himself off. No reason to make the same mistake. “I wanted you to know the other night was incredible, and I kind of screwed it up.”

“Kind of?”

“You know I enjoy your company, right?”

“I… Yes? I assume, since you haven’t ever told me to fuck off.”

Some of his tension evaporated. The joke, though it bordered on self-effacing, meant she was listening.

“Speaking of fucking, we’re not going to let this hang over us, are we?” he asked.

She ducked her head and fiddled with her phone, but instead of checking it, she spun it on the table with her finger.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. I know you can. You didn’t have a problem saying what you wanted the other night,” he said.

Her face went as red as the vinyl benches they sat on. “That was different.”

“Order up.” Gwen slid their plates onto the table. She glanced between the two of them, and then clucked. “And, I’ll leave you two alone.”

Archer might have thanked her, but she was already gone. He gave his attention back to Tori. “It’s not different. If you didn’t enjoy the sex, then it is what it is.”

Her head shot up. “No, that’s definitely not an issue. It was… wow.”

“So do you accept my apology?”

“I don’t know how to act around you now.”

H pushed his food aside and leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms. “Avoiding me probably isn’t the way to go. Act however you’re comfortable, but I was hoping nothing else would change.”

Maybe a couple of things would change. For instance, he’d spend most of his free time, and some of his not-so-free time, fantasizing about the husky voice she used when turned on. About how she let loose. How she felt, wrapped around him. Saying so probably wouldn’t help the situation.

“So we act like nothing happened?” she asked.

“Definitely not. It happened, and I’m not forgetting it anytime soon. But nothing else has changed.”

“Once again, you make it sound so easy.”

He nudged her shoe with his. “And you’re making me think I’m wrong. Tell me we’re good, but only if you mean it.”

“We’re good. I mean it.”

A tension he hadn’t realized was there drained from his neck. “When can we do it again?”

“You’re horrible. I’ll check my calendar.”

That was natural. The kind of joking he could handle. “I’m glad you broke away from work for a little bit today. I didn’t think you ever left your cave between five and five on a weekday.”

“I had to get out for some fresh air. But I was actually serious when I said I didn’t have long.” As if to emphasize her point, she checked her phone again.

This needed to stop. He grabbed it and tucked it into his pocket. “They have to let you eat.” He pushed her food toward her. “Keep me company, in the process.”

She opened her mouth but shook her head without saying anything. She took a bite of her sandwich, chewed, and washed it down with tea, before responding. “I probably shouldn’t ask this, since it tends to be a mood killer, so tell me if it’s an off-limits topic.”

“Nothing’s off limits with me.” He hid a cringe the moment the words were past his lips. She wanted to ask something about Riley. Maybe one thing was. Too late to take it back, and he’d pushed her. He couldn’t justify holding anything back at the moment.

“Why did she turn you down? When you proposed?”

The question tugged at an avalanche of unpleasant memories he tried to repress on a regular basis. He wanted to spit out the easy answer. Maybe a defensive,
Like I know
, or,
Because of reasons
. Instead, he found himself spilling the truth. “She and I didn’t want the same things for our futures.” And apparently, she’d always been in love with someone else.

“Like what?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I want kids. I want a wife to help me raise them, and a woman who wants to be taken care of—who takes care of me in return.”

“I think that sounds sweet.”

“But it obviously isn’t for her.”

“She figured out what was. I envy that.” The longing in her voice dug deeper than Archer expected.

An awkward silence descended over them. This wasn’t what he had in mind, when he said he wanted things back to normal.

“I should get back. Phone, please.” Tori held out her hand.

Back to exhaustion. Back to the people who demanded too much of her. Back to burying herself in stress. He held the phone up between his thumb and forefinger, dangling it over her palm. “Take the afternoon off.”

“Uh, no?”

He dropped the phone in her waiting hand. “Why not?”

“Because if I walk away and things break, I have to clean them up when I get back. And answer the e-mails that go along with them. And do damage control. And figure out who gets yelled at. I don’t like yelling at people.”

“If you’re there, you’ll do all of that anyway. You’ll answer the same question fifty times and get the same one hundred e-mails. How much will change if you get their messages now or in eighteen hours? Send them a note. Tell them you have an emergency and you’ll be out the rest of the afternoon.”

“I can’t.” But she stayed in her seat.

“If you’re looking for me to talk you into it, let’s assume I already have. You pretend you argued valiantly, and let’s declare me the winner of this debate.”

Despite her heavy sigh, she didn’t look upset. “All right. Just this once.” She tapped something out on her phone and looked at him again. “Done. E-mail says I had an emergency and I’ll be back later.”

He couldn’t hide his grin. He grabbed the device, turned it off, and dropped it into his pocket. “Perfect.”

“But”—she reached for him and then dropped her hand—“I need that.”

“I’ll give it back later. You’re taking the afternoon off; you don’t need it until tomorrow morning.” He stood and grasped her fingers between his.

“What if they try to get a hold of me?”

“Blame me. Tell them I wouldn’t let you talk to them.”

“That might not go over well.”

He tugged her to her feet and her soft scent filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes and dipped his head to whisper, “They’ll live without you until tomorrow morning.”

Tori stood at the top of the mountain, a cool breeze tearing strands of hair from the loose bun on her head. Archer was behind her in the short line, shoulder close enough to her back she felt his warmth, but he only occasionally brushed her. She tried to appreciate the gorgeous day, the surrounding peaks, and the canyons—snowless in the summer. The tangible electricity flowing between her and Archer made it difficult to think about anything except him.

At least she wasn’t thinking about work. The word tugged at a diminished pit in her gut and brought her worry back full force. It would be okay. Archer was right. Nothing would happen she couldn’t fix tomorrow. When she got her phone back, she had to expect countless e-mails from people who felt otherwise.

Besides, the warm, strong, attentive, and immediately-behind-her man was much more pleasant to focus on, especially combined with the memories of their night together. Heat raced through her, as the graphic images assaulted her. She needed to tone back the thoughts, or she risked spending the entire afternoon in damp panties.

“Your turn.” He nudged her forward, hand at the small of her back. His palm seared her.

She inhaled sharply through her teeth.

“You okay? Second thoughts?” His concern was palpable.

Nope. She should be having them.
Skipping work. Sleeping with a guy I’m not dating.
But she wasn’t having any, and that was the problem. It also wasn’t what he meant. “I’m good,” she said.

He wrapped his hand loosely around her upper arm. “Hold on.”

“Hmm?” She eyed him, curiosity mingling with her focus on his warm palm against her skin. He reached a hand behind her and plucked out the pen holding her hair back. Her hair tumbled down and into her eyes, pale brown locks obscuring her vision. Her breath caught when he locked his gaze on hers. What was he doing? Was he going to kiss her? She realized she was licking her lips and stopped.

He shook his head and handed her the pen. “Pull it back up after. Trust me; it won’t survive the trip down.”

She stowed her whisper of disappointment there was no kiss, dropped into the steel-frame car, and tugged on the fabric restraints. Archer told her it was called an Alpine Coaster—like a roller coaster, but better. She might as well be sitting in a micro-sized dune buggy, attached to a pair of steel rails where the wheels should be. It was only big enough for her, and she wasn’t sure how it was anything like he described. Something whirred, something else clicked, and the barely-a-car jerked forward.

She was towed higher and higher. She’d never been up in the Utah mountains before. She’d moved to Salt Lake City for her last year of college, to get away from her ex.

She pushed that part of the memory away, not wanting to ruin the day. Since she didn’t ski and her friends thought the mountains were old news, she’d only seen the tops from an airplane seat.

The car reached the highest point on the track and paused. She looked around, taking in the view.

And then her thoughts and stomach dropped out behind her, as the car plummeted. The steel frame rocketed downhill and up again, through twists and turns, moved by momentum rather than a motor. It reached the top of another peak and teetered, before shooting down the other side. She screamed every time the gravity stole her gut, and she let herself be tossed back and forth as the cart carried her through the entire coaster.

She was laughing by the time she rolled to a stop at the bottom. She stumbled climbing out, and struggled to find her footing after repeatedly having her stability ripped away and the laws of physics forced on her in rapid succession. Somewhere in the midst of the chatter around her, she heard another car slide to a stop.

A pair of strong hands grasped her arms and helped her stand upright. “Steady.” Archer’s warm breath brushed her ear.

She wobbled a little more, using the excuse to lean back against him. She shouldn’t. It didn’t stop her.

Something new tickled her ear—she wasn’t sure if it was a growl or a sigh. “Having fun?”

What was she doing? Flirting with her one-night stand, who also happened to still be recovering from his last relationship?

She forced a neutral expression onto her face, pulled away, and faced him. “Absolutely.” Her voice was too bright, but it was too late to take it back. “I can’t believe I’ve never been up here before. If I ever get another day off work, this is the first place I’m headed.”

“Call me if that happens.”

“What’s next?” She turned away, trying to focus on the lighthearted feeling of the day, instead of the desire his offer summoned.

He fell into step beside her, arm brushing hers as he nudged her in a new direction. “We go back to the top of the mountain, more slowly this time, stay a bit longer, and head down at not-quite breakneck speed.”

“Okay…?”

There was no line this time. The ticket holder ushered them forward within seconds of their arrival. Archer gestured for her to go first, and she stepped hesitantly into the plastic box with windows, that was suspended from a cable.

“Gondola ride,” he said, as he grabbed hold of a railing that ran around the inside of the car.

They swayed back and forth as they lifted from the ground, but their surface stabilized as it slowly rose up the side of the mountain. Trees and rocks passed by. It was all so pretty. He settled his hand on the small of her back, and she leaned into the gesture.

“Thanks for bringing me up here. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend force me to take a break before. It’s been nice.”

“Never? What kind of friends are those? Next thing you’re going to tell me is you’ve never had a guy bring you flowers.”

A new kind of heat flooded her, and a sick ball sank in her stomach. She pulled her gaze from his.

“Oh.” His tone was flat. “Really? Never?”

Wow. His disbelief didn’t help her embarrassment. “My prom date bought me a carnation. It’s no big deal, though. I’m not much of a rose person.”

“That still doesn’t make it right. What kind of flowers would you want?” With his thumb, he traced small circles along the base of her spine.

Not that it mattered. Still, it would be rude not to answer. “Daisies. I’ve always loved daises.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So why do you get the afternoon off?” she asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

“Derrek is watching the shop.”

His nearness compelled her to lean farther into him. His chest met her back, and he slid his hand to her hip. This was nice. She should pull away, but even though the thought was there, the desire wasn’t. “Alone… on a Tuesday afternoon… in July? You’re not worried about him getting overwhelmed?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things—and trust me when I say I wish that was one of them—but no. He’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of the comment or the trace of bitterness running through it, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she honed in on the feeling of his heartbeat through her back.

He broke the silence again, a few moments later. “I’m thinking about asking the anime club to meet somewhere else on Sundays.”

That drew her attention. She turned to face him, breath catching when his face was inches from hers. She could either back away or enjoy the nearness. She held her place, and her words fell out. “Something’s going on. You love keeping them around.”

The car jerked to a stop, and they both stumbled. He reached a hand out to steady her, and when they righted themselves, his lips hovered near hers. He finally stepped back, and disappointment washed over her as the air swept in to take his place.

“We should get off.” His voice was heavy.

“Here?” Images flooded her head. Sex in a public place, suspended several feet over the mountains in a moving car, with the chance of any random person seeing them? The thought made her pulse race and a slick warmth spread between her thighs.

“We’re at the top of the mountain. I didn’t think you’d want to head back down right away.”

“Right. No. Good call. Let’s hang out here for a while.” She pushed aside the graphic fantasy—mostly—and stepped past him onto solid ground.

Clusters of people gathered around different roped-off tour areas. She was relieved when Archer led her off the path, away from the crowds, and toward a quieter, cooler part of the mountaintop. The trees weren’t dense—not like she was used to seeing back in southern Illinois, where she’d grown up—but they provided enough of a canopy to keep the heat out and still let streams of sunlight through.

They walked in silence for a while, Archer with his hands shoved in his pockets, sometimes drifting closer and sometimes drifting away again. When he spoke, his voice blended with the surrounding scenery. “Anime club’s not paying off the way it used to. It doesn’t drive up sales anymore, and there’s no point in letting them leech my back room if they’re not buying anything.”

“What’s the real reason?” She wouldn’t push under most circumstances, but he brought it up. She’d try to pry it out of him, and drop the subject if she couldn’t.

He leaned back against a nearby tree, tilted his head toward the sky, and propped one foot on the trunk. They’d wandered a ways off the trail, and any voices were rare and distant. For minutes at a time, it felt like they were the only people in the world. The silence was pleasant. Too bad she couldn’t bottle it for use later.

He finally looked at her. “The store isn’t making as much money as has in the past. Most months we’re breaking even, but it’s why I didn’t replace Sam when she left for college.”

“But you always have people in there, and you sell a ton of comics.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s been a long time since you were around for more than about thirty minutes. I don’t always have people in there. And they buy comics, if they buy anything. The collectibles, the figurines, the board games—those were what made the money. No one wants those anymore.”

An ache of sympathy rolled through her. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The desire to help surged through her. She’d loan him the money, give it to him even, but he wouldn’t take it. “You can do stuff to expand, right? Sell online—things like that?”

“I’m working on that.”

The irritation in his voice caught her off guard. She found herself stepping back, and she crossed her arms. “All right. It was just a suggestion.”

His expression softened, and he shoved away from the tree. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” He shoved his hair off his forehead. “I’ve got it under control. I needed to vent a little bit, is all.”

She didn’t want to delve into any issue that made him scowl or threatened the afternoon. Not that she wanted to pursue most issues anyway, but now there were extra reasons to change the subject.

His shoulders and neck relaxed, and he moved closer. He trailed a finger down her right arm, raising a trail of goose bumps. “I’m stressed about it, but I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you. I’m having a lot of fun this afternoon. More than I think I’ve ever had up here.”

“No big deal.” The sun dropping toward the mountaintops, and the feather-light touches against her skin, were enough to chase away the residual tension over his reaction.

He pursed his lips before giving her a casual half smile. He grabbed her fingertips, tugged her arms loose, and pulled her with him when he leaned against the tree again.

She stopped less than a foot back, focusing on the friendly contact and the tingles it sent through her, tucking the awkward moment into the back of her thoughts.

“I’ve pretty much driven the entire afternoon. Anything you want to do while we’re up here?” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

An uninvited image popped into her head—an expanded version of the fantasy that teased her at the end of the gondola ride—and heat flooded her skin. Knowing that wasn’t what he meant didn’t make it easier to shove the graphic suggestions out of her brain.

It was a struggle to keep her voice steady and clear. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He raked his gaze over her, drawing more ideas to the front of her thoughts. Memories of the look in his eyes when she stood in front of him naked. Murmurs of the thrill she got from telling him what she wanted.

“Nothing at all? Because I’m open to suggestions,” he said.

She shook her head, any response catching in her throat.

“That’s too bad.” He raised a hand to the side of her face and traced the outer edge of her ear. “I was hoping you might describe your wishes to me in vivid, excruciating detail.” His voice dropped an octave.

She raised her head. . The glint in his smile hadn’t been there before. Was he thinking the same thing she was?
Take the chance.
“I might have something in mind.”