Page 47 of Total Shutdown

You’re unbelievable.

Archer

Thanks.

Me

I don’t think that was a compliment. I’m not fucking anyone against any tree, especially one where you’ve been.

I’m also regretting this entire conversation.

Archer

If it helps, I fucked her on the ground. It was kind of romantic. The fallen leaves got in the way and into places they probably shouldn’t …

Jack

“Playboy days are behind me.” Sounds likely.

Archer

So, back to this party. Is your sister coming or what?

*Jack has left the conversation.*

Archer

Did I go too far?

Me

Obviously. I get we joke around, but you should let him know that you understand Darcy is off-limits. Now that she’s single and moving to a strange country, he’s probably feeling protective.

In my peripheral vision,a glass door swings open, and I catch Collins as she steps out of the building.

This girl is effortless, dressed in black from head to toe. Her tight jeans cling to her toned thighs as she heads across the parking lot toward my truck. She’s wearing a fitted sweater and boots, finished with a fluffy scarf and a cropped leather jacket.

I wonder why she chose to dye her hair pink and not black. I know she’s a natural blonde; it’s obvious from the color of her eyebrows, although I couldn’t tell from the rest of her body since she’s bare below the waist—an image that’s burned into my memory.

When she taps on the glass for me to unlock the truck and let her in, I hit the switch and shake off my daze, too busy reminiscing and fantasizing over the way she looks.

“You can put your tongue away. Old men who stare give me the creeps,” she jests, lifting herself onto my passenger seat and dropping her mini backpack onto the floorboard.

I turn my body toward her, resting my forearm over the steering wheel. “Is this how it’s always gonna be—gibing about my age every chance you get?”

Her eyes drop to the open text chat, my phone still in my hand. “If you’re lucky enough.”

I quickly lock my phone—after noticing Archer hasn’t replied anyway—and pocket it.

Collins clips her seat belt and stares out the windshield. For a beat, I see unease in her eyes, and I follow her trail of vision.

Through the shop’s glass windows, I see a dark-haired guy, likely in his mid-twenties, rounding the counter and taking a seat at the front desk. He’s dressed like a manager.

“Is that your boss?” I ask cautiously.

She rolls her lips together. “Yep. Cameron—aka Head Dickface.”

I blow out a single laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised at the nickname. This girl probably has one for me too. “You like him then?”