Archer stared at me, his gray eyes silver in the street light. "Keep it on ice for me," he said and kissed me softly on the cheek, then lightly nuzzled my neck. I gasped, wanting him to kiss me for real, but he had already stepped back.
I was in a state of mild shock as he drove off, leaving me to wonder,Why did he leave?
22
Archer
It took every ounce of willpower I had to walk away from Hazel after her offer of dessert. The past week I had been going round and round in circles, thinking that I was misreading the situation. Maybe Hazel thought I was annoying yet attractive but didn't really want anything to do with me. Maybe it was too complicated of a situation. I had hired her to do a painting, and there was the bad blood between our families.
Now that it was very clear she did, in fact, want me, I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't any stranger to hookups. I would meet an attractive girl at a swanky party. We would get shit-faced drunk, hook up at my place or hers, and then go our separate ways. A few of them had stuck around, like McKenna, but that wasn't the norm. None of them were like Hazel. They were models or socialites—tall, lanky, and smooth haired. Eventually they all started to blur together. Hazel was a shock of difference, the softness of her body, her flyaway hair, and the nicest pair of tits I had ever seen. They were full and round, and I wanted to suck on her nipples through the soft crop top she always wore.
I was afraid if I hadn't left, I would have taken Hazel upstairs to the couch, buried my face in her tits, and buried my cock inside of her. But she was a cute small-town café owner. That might have been too much for her. Besides, I wanted to savor the experience. I wanted to study Hazel like a fine piece of art and discover all the hidden secrets and meaning.
All the spinning about Hazel left me hot and dizzy. I cranked up the AC and took a cold shower but couldn't calm down. I finally snuck upstairs to the clubroom. Several fingers of whisky later, and online shopping for a crate of the most expensive raspberries I could find, I had calmed down enough to finally fall asleep.
The next morning I was woken up roughly. I blearily opened my eyes. Tristan was hovering over me.
"What?" I growled at him.
"Mike says we all have to go to the art fair. It's part of our Greyson Hotel Group internship. He wants to see how the space performs when there are a lot of people in it."
"Whatever," I said and rolled over to go back to sleep.
"Archer,get up." This time it was Hunter.
"I need my beauty sleep. I'm not getting any younger." I put a pillow over my head to block the light as Hunter wrenched open the curtains.
"You're also not getting a convention center if you keep acting like this," he said and pulled all the blankets off of me.
I showered, dressed, then went down to the kitchen and dug around in the fridge for the sandwich half I had hid in the back from the picnic Hazel had made me.
"Uh," Josie said. She looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry," she said, holding out the half-eaten sandwich.
"I told her she could eat it," Mace said, sipping his bulletproof coffee.
"That's my sandwich."
"It's a really good sandwich," Josie said, looking only slightly guilty. "Is this one of the ones Ida sells?"
"Yes, but she buys them from Hazel's Art Café."
"Oh really?" Josie asked, taking another bite.
* * *
"The space does flow very nicely,"Mike said as we walked into one of the large factory buildings that were being used as exhibition halls. Tristan and Eli took pictures while Mike and I walked around the booths. Otis and Theo wanted to tag along too. They were looking for inspiration for their T-shirts, and they darted down the aisles of art displays.
"We were thinking of using this building for large lecture rooms," Mike said as we walked, "but maybe we should flip it with Building C. This works really nicely for tables."
"Would you like to buy a painting of two kittens and a ball of yarn?" I heard a familiar voice call.
Hazel—she was sitting behind a table surrounded by paintings of baby animals. Ida was there, too, along with Jemma and Olivia. Ida was taking a long swig out of a thermos that more than likely did not contain coffee.
"Someone's suddenly perked up," Mike commented when I turned and headed over to Hazel's table.
Her hair was in a messy topknot. She was wearing tight black yoga pants that accentuated the curve of her hips and another one of those scoop-necked cropped shirts that drove me crazy. The peak of her lace bra showed slightly when she moved or readjusted the shirt.
"I'm just very inspired by art," I said. Mike snorted.
