Page 32 of Beautiful Thing

After barricading Sky on all sides with a wall of pillows, I tiptoe out of the room. I cast a glance down the hallway and make note of the light seeping through the crack in a door all the way at the end.

Every night after my broody roommate slips away, that light comes on, casting a golden shimmer along the furthest wall. I’ve been curious but never brave enough to go near Archer’s lair.

My curiosity is especially strong tonight.

I just want to check up on him. I’ll be up all night, tossing and turning unless I know for sure that he’s okay after the events of the day.

I take one step in that direction. Two. Then another. It could be so easy to—

No, Layla.

I shake the temptation away and turn around, deciding to head to the kitchen instead.

Leaning against the counter, I slowly sip on a glass of water in the dark. Archer is a private man and he just wants to be left alone. At least, that’s the mask he wears for the world.

But I’m not buying the whole ‘man of stone’ act. I know that he has a big heart under all that muscle and beard. A big heart that was broken and patched up with nails and screws and putty and duct tape. I’m beginning to realize that big broken heart of his probably never healed up right. Am I just supposed to pretend not to notice?

After debating with myself a few more minutes, I wash my glass and with a sigh, I head back for the bedroom. As I creep through the quiet house, my gaze sweeps out the living room side window. The warm white back porch lights glowing through the copse of trees a few houses down catch my attention.

That used to be my home. And then the man who was supposed to love me, kicked me and our son to the curb. It’s depressing to think about and I don’t want to spend the whole night ruminating about Razor, so I clear the thought from my mind. Instead, I let my mind return to Archer.

Continuing my trek back to my bedroom, I glance at the door at the end of the hallway again. The temptation to burst into that room and comfort the broody lumberjack is so strong.

Mind your business, Layla.

I know that if I act on my curiosity, no doubt I’ll get bitten.

Yet still, instead of slipping back into my bedroom, something inside me propels me forward. Mustering all my courage, I continue in the direction of the light, balancing on my tiptoes down the creaky hallway.

I take light footsteps, my stomach swirling wildly and my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I make my way to Archer’s mysterious room. Right outside the threshold, I crane my neck to get a peek inside.

I catch sight of the man and I lose my breath…

He’s sitting with his back to me, his wide shoulders hunched over a table in the corner. He slowly shuffles through the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle scattered before him.

Something about his big, dominating presence is so irresistibly beautiful in this quiet moment. His thick hair is disheveled. And in that thin white T-shirt, his defined muscles are so pronounced, broadcasting his every tiny movement. He looks powerful and masculine and thigh-clenchingly sexy.

But also, undeniably…lonely.

An ache rushes through my chest as I squint through the crack in the door. Seeing him like this makes me sad. He’s such a good person. He deserves someone to spend his nights with. Someone to love him.

Archer’s body freezes suddenly. His shoulders tense. Slowly, he peers over his back. Those military reflexes of his are sharper than ever. Of course they are. He senses me here in the shadows, gawking at him like a creeper.

I backtrack with a hurried step, and the floorboards squeal under my soles. Like a shot, Archer bolts to his feet.

Shit.

I’ve been caught.

“Layla?” his hushed rasp cracks the silence and sends a ripple down my spine.

I swing around on my toes and hustle toward my bedroom.

But Archer is already at the door, calling my name again. “Layla? Is everything okay?”

Shoulders hunched all the way up to my ears, I give up on running away. Instead, I turn to face my fate.

Archer’s towering figure fills the doorframe, backlit by the warm glow of a dim lamp. He takes a few steps closer, and instead of the anger I was expecting, it’s concern I see in his expression.

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