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Archer only nods, then glances down at his phone, where I can see a grocery list.

Right—I said I’d help him with groceries. I lost the plot there for a moment.

I mentally prepare for him to ask intrusive questions like,Who were those peopleandYou datedthatguy?but thankfully, Archer doesn’t.

He just stands there, like a big, handsome tree trunk of a grump in his button-down shirt and tie.

“Sorry about my, uh, friends,” I say.

“They didn’t seem like friends.”

He’s right—more than he can possibly know—and I admire his perceptiveness. It also kind of terrifies me.

What else does this man see?

“Well, thank you for stepping in.”

Archer’s steely eyes study me, and I tug his jacket tighter around my body. “You didn’t need saving. But someonedidneed to put that uncomfortable conversation out of its misery.”

I can’t help but laugh at this, and as the corner of Archer’s mouth lifts a fraction, Bellamy’s words start looping through my mind again.

Maybe my best cookie client is right about his boss. At least partially. Archer is still putting me out of business and basically evicting me due to rent increases, so he’s notallgood.

So why am I thawing toward the man?

It’s more than a thaw, as I realize how close we’re still standing and how warm his jacket is and how handsome he is when his face softens a little.

Oh, who am I kidding. I am starting to melt for a man I halfway hate. What does this say about me?

The lobsters wave their antennas at me, almost like they’re offering up encouragement. If one of them pops out of the tank and starts singing “Kiss the Girl,” it won’t shock me. Not after the last ten days of coincidences and unexplained phenomena.

Also, I’d be lying if the idea of kissing Archer hasn’t tip-toed through my mind as I stand here in his jacket, cocooned in his masculine scent. Especially not after he just helped me through the kind of awkward moment people usually only experience in their nightmares.

“I have a proposition for you,” Archer says.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“You offered to help me with groceries.”

“I did.”

The long pause is almost enough to make me grab him by the tie and yank the words out of him.

“I need … more help.”

He says the word help like it’s the dirtiest of all four-letter words, and I find myself biting back a smile. I don’t want to laughathim. But he’s making it hard just by being himself.

“I need to hire someone who can help manage things at The Serendipity.”

Well,thatwas unexpected.

He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks. And in a strange kind of irony, it seems like he’s offering me a job, but I’m still not fully comprehending.

Archer wants to hiremeto help manage The Serendipity?

“Bellamy suggested I ask you,” he adds.

Ah, Bellamy. This makes much more sense. I can’t see this being Archer’s idea. Though with the confusing cocktail of signals Archer has been serving up, you never know.