Page 113 of A Little Complicated

Hey, I brought takeout. Come answer your door.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“What is it?” Maverick’s head dips to one side, trying to see who messaged me, but I slide off his lap and fall to the ground.

My ass lands on the floral rug with a thud, and I rub at the tender spot while keeping my voice quiet. “I made plans with Archer a week ago and totally forgot.” I look at the front door as another loud knock reverberates through the house, and I shove my hair away from my face. “He’s here.”

Maverick blanches. “Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Lia?” A voice calls through the door. “Lia, are you in there?”

I grab Maverick’s discarded shirt and boxers from the ground and throw them at him, searching for my own clothing, but they’re missing.

“Where are my clothes?” I seethe.

He shrugs, looking down the hallway while sliding his boxers on. “I don't know? We started in the kitchen.”

“Shit.” Yup. If memory serves me right, my shirt is on the counter next to the microwave, and my bottoms are on the floor in front of the fridge.

“Take my shirt.” He slips it over my head, causing my mess of curls to pop out on the other side. Once I’m halfway decent, I crouch low and point toward my bedroom. “Hide in there.”

“He’ll see,” Maverick grits out.

I look at the front door and the thin window panes, giving a perfect view of the hallway leading to my bedroom.

Dammit!

“What do we do?” I ask helplessly.

He looks toward the ceiling like he’s silently cursing what decisions got him here, crawls into the coat closet, and shuts the door behind him, locking himself inside.

“Lia, it’s me!” Archer calls. “I can hear you in there. You okay?”

“Just a second!” I run my fingers through my messy hair, confirm I can’t see Maverick through the skinny slats in the closet door, square my shoulders, and unlock the front lock.

Archer stands on my porch dressed in his usual work clothes. The top button on his white shirt is left undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he cradles a brown bag in his arms, looking every bit the sexy businessman he’s grown to be.

With the scent of curry and warm spices wafting through the air, he gives me a concerned look. “Hey. Everything all right?”

My fingers throttle the edge of the door as I force myself not to look at the closet door to my left. “Uh, hi. And, yes, I’m good. Sorry, I was napping on the couch, and it took me a second to realize I wasn’t in a dream.”

“No worries. You look…” His eyes slide up and down my body, hesitating on my bare thighs for the briefest of seconds, and find my face again.

“Like I was ready for a night in?” I offer, tugging at the hem of Maverick’s shirt in hopes of adding three inches to the dark fabric. It’s from his great uncle’s band, Broken Vows. All of us have plenty of apparel with the band logo, but even then, it’s like ten sizes too big, so I blurt out, “It’s my dad’s shirt.”

“Figured.” Archer chuckles. “You look good in it.”

“Why, thank you.” I give a little curtsy in hopes of disguising my nerves, though I doubt it works. “How was your presentation?”

“Good. Really good. I think they’ll want to hire me full-time after graduation.”

“That’s great, Arch!” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him, feeling his free hand splayed against my lower back.

Does he always touch me this low, or am I being sensitive because a certain brother may or may not be watching?

I shake off the thought and let Archer go, shifting back a few extra inches hoping to create more space. If Archer notices, he doesn’t comment.

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