Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I tell Archer as we walk through his house from the kitchen to the living room. The last time I was here, I didn’t take the time to look around. It’s an open-floor plan, something that more and more houses are doing these days. I happen to love the design. I think it makes even the smallest of houses look bigger.
“You mean the way I moved in?” he asks, the humor in his voice evident.
“Are you sure that you live here? Is this just your hookup pad or something? You all share it, right? The four remaining single Kincaid brothers? How did you handle it when it was all nine of you at once? This is what, a three-bedroom?” I’m barely holding onto my laughter at the surprised look on his face.
“This is my home,” he says. His eyes bore into mine. “My brothers and I, we don’t have a fuck pad, Firecracker. No, we don’t share. I live here alone.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“A few years.”
“Do you have an aversion to decorations?” I tease.
“What? There’s a couch, a loveseat, a TV and TV stand, end tables, a coffee table.”
“But they’re all bare. Where are the throw pillows? The throw over the back of the couch for when you get cold? Lamps? Candles? Copies of Playboy? It’s so… plain.” I mean, I’m not judging him. I live out of a suitcase most of the time, but a home, it should be your safe haven, a place where you can be unapologetically you. My mind drifts to my parents’ home, and my heart constricts in my chest. If the day ever comes that I have a permanent home, that’s how I want it to be.
He shrugs. “I don’t need much. It’s just me living here.”
“It’s a fairly new house.”
“It is. New construction when I bought it.” He pauses, gauging how much he wants to say. “I figured I’d let my girl take care of all of that. I don’t know dick about decorating.”
“Your girl?” I croak out the words. “Do you have a girlfriend?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. He’s single. I’ve gotten that from multiple sources, but him talking about “my girl” has my anxiety spiking. I never want to be the other woman.
“No. Relax.” He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. “I meant when I find her. When I find the woman who will share this place with me, she can do whatever she wants to the place. I don’t care what she does as long as she’s here with me.”
“Archer.” I pause to gather my emotions. “That’s really sweet.”
“I’m a sweet guy,” he counters.
“That’s really how you feel?”
“It is. I’m a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy, Scarlett. I have nothing to hide. I’m single, but I don’t plan to stay that way. I’m certain I’ll find a woman to share my life with. Most of my brothers already have, and they found them in the most unlikely of ways. I’m sure my turn is coming.”
“And you want that? Marriage, kids, to be tied down?” In my experience, other than my adoptive dad, men don’t want to settle down.
“I don’t look at it as being tied down. I’d be sharing my life with that person. My hopes, fears, and dreams with her. That’s not being tied down, Firecracker. That’s living.”
I’ve never questioned the way I live my life after losing my adoptive mom a few years ago. She encouraged me. Both of my parents instilled in me to follow my dreams, and to me, dreams are easier if you chase them on your own. There is less heartache involved. However, in this moment, I see the appeal of sticking around for a long period of time. Maybe even forever. Archer Kincaid paints a pretty picture, but then again, that’s the life he’s living. I don’t know his family well. I’m closest to Palmer, but they all seem to have one of those fairy-tale kinds of loves that seem too good to be true.
I’ve turned the conversation into heavy topics when that’s not why I’m here. He doesn’t need to endear himself to me. Not that I think that’s what he’s trying to do. I believe him when he says he’s a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy.
“Hey, Archer?”
“Yeah?” His arms are still around me, his hands resting on the small of my back. He smiles down at me, and there is a flutter in my chest. I ignore it. This night is not about that. I’m not here for flutters in my chest or hearts in my eyes. That’s not who I am, and he knows that. I’m here for his tongue and, if I’m lucky, his cock with a repeat of our first night together.