“Fuck, it smells good in here,” Archer says as he walks into the kitchen. It’s no surprise that both of us are here on our day off. “What have you been up to, man?” He leans against the counter, crossing both his ankles and arms.
“It was a great morning at the market. Terri had the most amazing sweet corn at his table today, and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve got three specials lined up.” I carefully slide the first plate in front of him. “First, we have an appetizer of pan-seared scallops over a bed of fresh corn, peppers, onions, and bacon.”
I swear I see cartoon hearts floating over his head as he brings the plate up to his nose and takes a deep inhale. He uses the fork to slice through the scallop before stabbing the other ingredients, so he makes sure he has a bit of everything in one bite.
“God, this is good,” he mumbles with a mouthful of food. At least he has the manners to cover his mouth as he speaks. “And what’s this one?”
I can’t hold back my chuckle. He hasn’t even finished his first bite, and he wants to know more.
I explain the two main dishes—a grilled cheese with corn and Calabrian chiles with a side of hand-cut shoestring fries and acreamy shrimp pasta with homemade linguine, garlic shrimp, fresh corn, cherry tomatoes, and basil.
Archer twirls a helping of pasta around his fork and nods his head as I speak.
“Jesus, you’re like the Chuck Norris of cooking—just kicking ass, taking names, and making each ingredient your bitch, aren’t ya?” He laughs, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
“So, what do you think?” I’ve never made a dish that either Archer or Ollie didn’t like or approve of, but each time someone tries my food, I don’t know how to explain it, but I become a small boy seeking validation. I want to bring others joy with my food, and with that comes my happiness.
As if he senses my nerves, or maybe he can read me like a damn book, he reassures me. “Relax, will ya? It’s all delicious and amazing. That’s why I put you in charge of food. Get me the details of the dishes, and I’ll have the specials printed up and put out front.”
Archer all but licks the bowls of food before carrying them to the dishwashing station.
“Hey, so I just wanted to let you know Payton is swinging by shortly,” he says.
I’m thankful I have my back to him so that he can’t see my reaction. I swallow slowly and grit my teeth to keep from showing any sign of excitement at the mention of not only the youngest Mosby but that she’s coming here. “Oh?”
“Yeah, Ollie and I wanted to help her out, so she’s going to replace Tracey.” Tracey was one of our servers who quit last week.
“Well, that’s good.” I busy myself wiping down the already spotless counter. “I’m sure Mama Mosby is happy to have her back.”
I lost my shit the day that Ollie had told me what the dickhead had done to her, or, well, had been doing all along. The first timethat Payton had brought him home for a visit, I instantly didn’t like the guy. There’s a difference between cocky and confident, and he was certainly the former. I didn’t like the way he all but demanded that Payton wait on him. “Hey, babe, get me a drink, will ya?” I hear his whiny voice in my head. She deserves more. She deserves a man who would treat her like the queen she is.
I’m not sure the exact moment things changed for me. I’ve watched her grow up from the little girl who used to beg me to play Barbies with her to a stunning woman who doesn’t even realize how beautiful she is. But at some point, my thoughts and feelings turned from something brotherly to something more—not just protective, but possessive. I had trouble coming to terms fully with the shift in my feelings, so I was thankful to have cooking and the kitchen to immerse myself in to keep myself busy.
But when she announced she was pregnant and having essentially a shotgun wedding, I got shit-faced. I was too late. But in the long run, I saw it as a good sign because I could never cross that line with her. Her brothers would both kill me.
I’ll be honest, though, there are moments—more than I should ever even admit—that I can’t help but think about the what-if. What if I had manned up and done something about my feelings? Could I have saved her from this heartache? I guess we’ll never know.
“Yeah, she is, but…” He trails off, not needing to finish it because I’m sure of all of us, Connie Mosby is happy to have her baby girl and granddaughter home but wishes it were under other circumstances. Archer pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up, revealing his mom’s name.
“Speak of the devil.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Ooh, I’m telling her you called her that.”
Archer flips me the middle finger as he brings the phone to his ear and exits the kitchen.
Chapter 3
Payton
Me:We’re here!
I toss my phone into my bag, not bothering to wait for Archer’s reply.
A shadow approaches as I’m bent over the back seat, getting Gabby’s car seat out.
“Excuse me, ma’am, do you have a permit for those guns?” Archer chuckles.
“Yeah, well, if you had to carry this thing around all the time, you wouldn’t need a gym membership either.”
