Page 16 of Shots Fired

“Her name is Jessica,” he repeats.

“I-I’m just going to go use the, umm … the restroom.” Kendra thumbs over her shoulder.

“Yep, the need to pee is real,” Jenna agrees.

“And I need to … well, I need to get out of this dead-ass awkward environment,” Collins adds, always the honest one.

Archer watches my friends leave for the restroom and then resets his focus back on Harry. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to work out why the hell he called me Jessica. I only ever use that name when I want to conceal who I really am because of my brother. But how would Archer know that?

Harry motions between us. It’s obvious he’s already regretting walking over here. “You know each other?”

Shoving both hands into his pockets, Archer grins at me, waiting for me to go first.

I grin back at him mockingly. “I’ve never met this man before in my life,” I say to Harry.

Throwing his head back to the ceiling, Archer releases a single laugh that practically grinds the rest of the bar to a halt.

“Yeah, I’m going to …” Face flushed red, Harry points toward his table. “I’m obviously stepping on toes here so I’m going to see myself out. Nice to meet you, Jessica.” He throws me a weak smile and scurries off.

I take a second before looking at Archer, kind of pissed at the way he bulldozed in.

“Why are you here?” I eventually ask, still not making full eye contact with him, although I can sense his proximity and the intensity of his weighted gaze.

When I finally look at his face, I can see he wants to say something but quickly checks himself. “I was walking back home and saw you.” He cocks his head toward the large window on my left. “I stopped to say hi and could see you were in need of rescuing.”

I really should be fuming at him and his assumptions. “Decided against the after-party at yours then?” I gibe. “And to be clear, I didn’t need rescuing. I was actually into Harry.”

Ignoring my dig, he steps closer as his jaw tics, only a foot or so away from me now. His heated gaze drops down the length of my black suit dress since I came here directly from work, and he takes his time ascending my body, eyes finding mine once more.

“Have I misjudged you? Are you a bit of a playgirl, Darcy Thompson?”

I roll my lips together, not missing his flirtatious tone, but liking it all the same. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. I’ve spoken to Archer more times than I can count, but there’s a darkness in his eyes I haven’t seen before.

“Maybe I am. I thought you of all people wouldn’t judge that.”

He puffs out a humorless breath, pulling a hand from his pocket and scrubbing it across his mouth. “He isn’t what you want, Darce.”

I prop a sassy hand on my hip. “Oh, yeah? And what makes you say that? I’m single and free to go with who I please. As are you.”

Archer looks uncomfortable, jaw switching from a tic to more of a grind. “I don’t think it’s a smart move, going home with strange guys. They can be weird. Even dangerous.”

I choose to ignore that and focus on the real issue troubling me. “Why did you say my name was Jessica?”

He looks at me like I should know. “Why? Is it a significant name to you?” he asks, lips tipping up into a wry smile.

This guy’s cheekiness shouldn’t be so appealing to me, and neither should his intensity. Suddenly, I’m thinking less about the importance of the name I use from time to time and more about the depth of the man standing in front of me. There’smore to Archer than meets the eye, and for the first time, I’m fascinated.

Reaching forward, I replace my glass on the bar, pushing down my intrigue. “Yeah, well, thanks for cockblocking me tonight.”

Archer’s eyes sparkle with delight. “But you don’t have a cock, so technically, I didn’t.”

“Pussy preventer—that’s what you are,” I volley back.

Genuinely, I think he might wet himself. “Oh jeez,” he wheezes, holding up a hand. “Darce, have mercy on me.”

I wait for him to stop laughing, hand still propped on my hip. “So, let me get this straight. First, you walk into this bar, wanting to simply say hi. Then you fuck up my hookup, andnowyou’re taking the pee out of me. Way to make friends, Archer.”

As I finish my sentence, his cackling stops, and his head whips up to mine. “You consider me a friend?”