She grinned. "The nice one! You should make more of them!"
"Archer bought it. He did it as a joke," I said flatly. I looked down at the floor. His actions had stung more than I cared to admit.
My friends gasped when I told them the story.
"McKenna's a witch, and Archer's a sociopath," Jemma assured me.
"Maybe he's being mean to you because he likes you," Olivia said.
"That's how little boys behave. Men shouldn't play games like that," Jemma retorted.
"I'm trying to look on the bright side," I said. "I sold a painting, and I'll hopefully sell a ton more at the art fair this weekend."
"I wish I hadn't sent you over there now," Olivia said, expression guilty. "I didn't realize the gallery owner was related to McKenna."
"She just seems like she keeps popping up where we don't want her."
"If you're not super mad," Olivia said, rocking back on her heels, "can you come over to the Svensson estate? I need your help on selecting colors. It's for Josie's cottage."
I pretended to be annoyed, but secretly I loved helping Olivia on her architecture projects. Also she had a car with air-conditioning, so I didn't have to bike over there—not that I didn't need the exercise.
We drove up to the house and parked in the roundabout. Olivia headed to the front door.
"I can't go inside!" I protested. I did not want to see Archer.
"We aren't just going to creep around. We have to go through the house. They need to know we're here."
I slumped.
"Come on, Hazel! Please? We're just going to pop in. You're going to tell me the perfect primer and topcoat to use, and then we're out of there. Easy peasy."
The front door opened to several little blond heads peeking out.
"Hi!"
"Are you here to cook?"
"Olivia's not here to cook. She's… oh hey, Hazel." There in front of me was Archer. He was shirtless. I gulped. Archer smirked as he noticed my gaze travel down the path of his tattoos on his chest to the V that disappeared into his low-slung trunks.
"It's really warm. We're all outside," he said, a lazy grin on his face. "We've bought a Slip 'N Slide."
I stared up at the ornate ceiling. I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of seeing me drool over him.
"I was telling Mace about the art walk. It will get built one way or another," he said confidently as we followed him to the backyard. I nodded, keeping my mouth firmly shut.
The Svenssons were all sitting outside. The kids were cute as they splashed in the Slip 'N Slide. The adult males were all shirtless and smoking fucking hot.
Someone save me. I'm dying.
Archer gestured to his brothers.
"This is Mace. You know Garrett. That's Mike. We'll pretend Hunter doesn't exist, and that's Greg. You guys met on the phone."
The awkward comments were beating down the door from my brain to my mouth. As soon as I saw Greg, I immediately said, "Donut Danishes are soft and squishy, which you are definitely not. I don't know why Archer thought it would be funny."
There was silence. I clapped a hand over my mouth. Archer collapsed next to me, roaring in laughter.
"I am so sorry," I said, mortified. "I act weird around attractive men."
