Page 1 of Beautiful Thing

1

ARCHER

“You need a girlfriend, Archer Brighton.That’swhat you need!”

The old lady with the silver-blue hair speaks decisively as she leans way too close and adjusts the collar of my checkered flannel shirt.

A jolt of annoyance shoots through my nerves.Here we fucking go. Again.

I take a peek over my shoulder to the other end of the checkout counter. Layla is closing down her cash register for the day. And pretending to mind her business.

But the subtle smile dancing on her rosy lips gives her away. So does the amused twinkle lighting up her eyes. She drops her chin, attempting to hide behind the silky curtain of her mahogany bangs.

One little glance in her direction and a ripple of electricity races down the back of my neck.Damn. She’s so pretty.

With a brisk shake of my head, I quickly remind myself—Layla’s just my younger sister’s best friend.

I shift my attention to the stack of debit machine receipts in my hands and try to look busy. “Don’t you go there, Miss Holly,”I mumble under my breath as I shuffle through the little slips of paper.

“This is serious, young man,” her friend, Debra, butts in urgently. She smells like she’s wearing an entire bottle of perfume. “You’re a catch. You’re so big and handsome. And you have a house. You have your truck. You just bought this hardware store.” She motions dramatically to the aisle of hammers and paintbrushes behind her. “The only thing missing is a good woman to nurture your soul.”

“Yes,” Miss Rosie adds, her tiny frame peeking around her much taller friends. “And now that all your younger siblings are getting married off, don’t you think it’s time you settle down, too?”

I hold back a sigh. Now I’m wishing I had locked up the doors a few minutes early.Beforethis flock of old women flew in to browse my aisles and antagonizeme.

I glance over my shoulder again. This time, I catch Layla peeking. Her big, brown eyes momentarily lock with mine, instantly disorienting me. As always.

She rolls her lips together and quickly averts her gaze. She’s still trying—and failing—to hide her little grin as she carefully counts a handful of nickels and drops them into the coin tray.

She’s finding this funny.

I turn back around, sliding the debit receipts into an envelope and pinching the bridge of my nose. Again, I’m confronted by Miss Holly and her friends. Standing there. Judging me.

There’s no polite way to tell these nosy women to mind their own fucking business. Starlight Falls is one of those sleepy Iowa towns where nothing exciting ever happens. The five thousand residents keep themselves entertained by gossiping about their neighbors. All the elderly hippie ladies around town believe that the status of my love life is prime material for public discussion.

I happen to disagree.

As a business owner, I don’t want to alienate my customers. As a gentleman, I’d rather not disrespect these meddling women.

But I’m going to have to draw the line somewhere. Especially since they’re constantly coming in here and trying to play matchmaker—something I find more excruciating than physical torture.

When Miss Holly reaches for my collar again, I restrain a growl. I give her wandering hand a polite but firm squeeze before setting it on the counter. “Thanks for your concern, ma’am. But my life is just fine,” I say—instead of telling her what Ireallythink she should do with her unsolicited opinions.

You don’t see me in here telling them they shouldn’t be pursuing the DIY plumbing aisle. You don’t see me telling them to go hire a handyman to do the heavy lifting. I allow them to do whatever the hell they want.

So, if I want to live in my peaceful solitude, what’s it to them?

“Well, if you had a woman in your life, you’d be doingbetterthan ‘just fine’,” Miss Rosie insists, throwing me a suggestive wink.

My chest rumbles with frustration and my eyes roll up to the ceiling. I catch sight of a dead lightbulb I’ll need to replace.

Miss Holly leans in, her voice hushed and her stare wide with terror. “You know what I heard happens to men who aren’t making love on a regular basis…?”

Miss Debra folds her arms across her chest and her chin motions toward my crotch with disdain. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

For crying out loud!

Before I can say something I’ll regret, Layla is stepping up beside me, handing me the cash box and key. “Oh, ladies. You leave Archer alone. Youall should know as well as anyone thatsome people truly are happier on their own. Being single beats being in a relationship with the wrong person,” she adds, her voice wavering slightly.

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