Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I don’t know that my friend realizes that Jules has a habit of watching him, too, and that’s exactly what I find her doing when I approach her.
“You seem to be having a good time,” I say, stepping close to her.
Jules’s cheeks begin to turn pink as she looks in my direction. She knows she’s busted.
“They’re so happy,” she says, pretending that she’s looking at Kit’s sister Beth and her soon-to-be husband Spencer.
“They are,” I agree.
For a long moment we watch the couple smiling at each other. Those two are in their own little world. I try to focus on that rather than thinking about the moments I’ve lost track of everything around me when Archer and I are together.
“Are you?”
She turns her full attention to me, her brows drawing closer. “Am I what?”
“Are you happy?” I repeat.
I’d love nothing more than to see my best friend with the girl of his dreams, but there’s always a real chance Jules is already in a relationship with someone else.
“Of course,” she says, attempting a smile that just doesn’t convince me.
“Hmm.”
“I’m happy for them,” she argues as her eyes narrow.
“I didn’t ask if you were happy about Beth and Spencer. I asked if you were happy.”
“Like in general?”
I sigh. “You’re reading too much into my question.”
“I’m happy,” she says, an edge to her voice. “Work is good, busy. I get to wear an amazing dress on Saturday.”
“You’re lonely,” I argue, because it was written all over her face when she watched Kit before I approached.
“I’m—”
“Kit is lonely, too,” I interrupt, waving to Anders, Kit’s middle brother, across the room.
“I’m fine.”
“Said no woman who was ever fine,” I say, locking eyes with hers.
“Why are you—”
My ringing phone makes her clamp her mouth closed, and she looks relieved at the distraction.
Her existence becomes secondary when I see Archer’s name flash on the screen.
“Gotta take this,” I say, hitting the answer button on the phone. “Archer, give me a minute to get to a quiet place.”
I hold the phone to my chest.
“It’s always a pleasure, Jules,” I tell her, pressing a swift kiss to her temple before walking away.
I slap Kit on the shoulder, a go-get-her sort of gesture before leaving the banquet room. Finding a quiet place to speak with Archer is harder than I thought it would be. The hotel is packed this weekend, and people are milling all over the place.
“What’s up?” I ask, sliding into the corner of the lobby.
“They’re everywhere, Brooks.”
After hearing the desperation in his voice, I hate that I took so long to start speaking to him.
“Who, Archer?”
“Paparazzi.”
“Have Davien drive you home. Where’s your security detail?”
“Davien couldn’t make it.”
“And security?” My heart starts to race from the thought of all the things that could happen to him. Fans get aggressive even when they like someone. Pissed people who used to be fans are a whole other breed.
“I didn’t hire them.”
I clench my jaw in irritation. Getting angry with him can wait.
“Is there a building you can get into?”
“I’m in a hired car.”
“Have him bring you to me,” I say without hesitation. “I’m sending the address.”
I pull the phone from my face only long enough to text over the information, but I don’t feel any better even after hearing Archer relay that information to the driver.
“Five minutes,” Archer says. “We’re only five minutes away.”
“You better fucking tip well,” the driver snaps. “I think that guy dented the side of my car.”
“I thought they moved on,” Archer says, his voice low and exhausted.
“What are you doing out?” I snap, more irritated that he’s not right in front of me at the moment than at the actual situation.
“I was bored. I know how stupid that sounds right now, so save the lecture.”
He’s nearly to the point of sobbing, so I clench my jaw because I was gearing up to do exactly that.
“Just take deep breaths, Arch. In and out.”
He breathes with me, and five minutes feels like an eternity.
“We’re almost there,” he says. “I don’t know if they followed me.”
“Where were you when it happened?”
“Downtown.”
“They’ll probably stay down there. You’re going to be fine. I need you to get out of the car and walk into the lobby. The less attention we draw to you, the better.”
“We’re here.”
“Tip the driver, Archer.”
“Holy shit. Thanks, man.”
I smile at the awe in the driver’s voice.
Archer is many things, but greedy isn’t one of them.
“Climb out, hold that handsome face of yours high, and walk inside. I’m waiting for you.”
I don’t realize he’s ended the call until he walks through the front door like he owns the place, his phone clutched in his hand by his side.
Before he can reach me, several photographers appear at his back, and it takes everything to smile at him rather than pay attention to them. I don’t know if the assholes following him are aware of my reputation, but they don’t come closer when I glare at them.