Page 17 of Shots Fired

I shrug. How could we not be? We’ve always gotten along, especially since I moved to Brooklyn. “Of course I consider you a friend.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied with my response, shifting even closer. I can smell his spicy cologne, one that reminds me of the Dior fragrance Johnny Depp promotes. It’s hot as fuck.

“You want to be my friend, Darcy?” His voice takes on a darker edge, and I wobble a little on my ridiculous designer heels.

“Absolutely,” I reply, a touch shakily.

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his ears like the previous time. “Then take some advice from me. Someone four years older?—”

“For now,” I interject. “I’m twenty-four in a few days.”

Archer doesn’t look surprised at that fact. “Okay, well, three years older.” He pauses, blue eyes turning as dark as the deepest part of the ocean. “Don’t sell yourself short for guys who only want a one-and-done arrangement. They aren’t worth it.”

The fervency in his voice renders me speechless.

“I should know because …” He pauses, swallowing once. “Because there’s no way I, the biggest playboy in the NHL, would ever view you like that.”

His words remind me of a conversation we had back in October in another cocktail bar. He told me Liam wasn’t worth it, and I agreed with him. Back then, I interpreted it as the kind of comment anyone would say to their heartbroken friend. Though that’s not how our exchange feels tonight; there’s more to his voice, more meaning in his body language, than simply a friend wanting to look out for someone they care about.

And that piques my intrigue further.

My throat feels thick as I reply, “That’s exactly what you do with girls though.”

He shifts his weight, looking off through the window and out into the darkened street. “Not all girls, Darcy.”

When he says my name, his head turns to face me, and I feel his weighted gaze all the way to my toes. I’ve never felt a sensation like this before in my life. Not even with Liam.

“Some girls don’t really want that kind of man. They just think they do because that feels like the safe option after their previous guy did the dirty on them.”

“And you think that’s what I’m doing?” I reply, my voice now as thick as my throat feels.

Rolling his shoulders back, Archer chews on his bottom lip. “I do.” He tips his head at the table Harry and his friends are sitting around, now eyeing up a group of different girls. “Every woman has a motive when she goes home with someone, just like every guy does. All I’m saying is, some reasons are healthier than others. I could always pick out the women who were fucking to forget from the ones who genuinely wanted no strings attached.”

I grab my cocktail glass and take a long sip, hoping the alcohol will flush away some of the truths Archer just unearthed.

“I am genuinely looking for fun,” I push out. “I’m not ready for anything serious, but equally, that doesn’t mean I have to wear a chastity belt.”

Back to grinning, he reaches out, taking my empty glass and sliding it back onto the bar. “I never said you did have to abstain from getting with guys. I merely suggested that you’re careful to be sure you pick the right one.”

I wave a finger at him, convinced I’ve found a flaw in his argument. “Right one? As in singular?”

Archer offers a nonchalant shrug. “Perhaps that’s all you need—one guy who can rock your world in all the ways your ex couldn’t”—he tips his chin at Harry again—“along with most of the guys in this city.”

The heat rising to my cheeks contradicts the lighthearted scoff I give him. I know he’s right, but that’s an ideal scenario I’ll never have. That’s tantamount to a knight in shining armor who cares only about the girl and nothing else. You can only find that kind of shit in the movies and not in real life. Liam is living proof of that.

“Well, when you find my Mr. One Size Fits All, then please let me know. Because I’d love to meet him.”

CHAPTER SIX

DARCY

“Happy birthday, Darcy!” Janine strides up to my desk, a white envelope in one hand and a bunch of pink roses in the other. She places the card down on top of my keyboard and hands me the bouquet. “A little birdie told me you don’t like chocolate all that much, so we got you these, and there’s a voucher inside the card.”

Sienna and Penelope are all smiles from their desks as I pull open the envelope, revealing a cute card with the number24stamped across the front in pink glitter. “Thank you,” I say, looking between the three of them. “You didn’t have to.”

When I open the card, a one-hundred-dollar gift voucher for Macy’s falls out.

“Since the fall weather will start to draw in soon, we figured you could use it to put toward a scarf or hat or maybe some new earmuffs for when you head out at night with your friends. New York gets cold really quickly this time of year.” Penelope smiles sweetly at me.