Page 5 of The Cowboy's Off Limits Option

He used to tease me about the dirt under my nails and ask me about my gardening or my studies or my plans to open my own shop, but now he just seems--nervous-- whenever he's alone with me. Like being stuck with just me is something painful that he'd rather not deal with.

"If you wrap one up for me, I'd like to take it home for Mom."

"Of course, that's really sweet of you."

Ugh. Mentally, I beat my head against the wall. My lame responses aren't really doing much to improve our small talk.

When I turn around to hand the bundle of flowers to Archer, he's moved all the way into the back room, causing me to bump into him when I find him standing so close behind me.

"Oh sorry." My reaction is automatic, but when his hands land on my arms to steady me, all the other words I was about to add die in my throat.

Archer Dean is touching me.

His hands linger, hot against my exposed skin that's been cooled by the air conditioning. Then they slide down from my shoulders-- bare under the thin straps of my sundress-- to just above my elbows. The callouses on his hands leaving a wake of goosebumps every place they touch.

I clutch the flowers between us tightly, my palms breaking out in a sweat with the anxiety of Archer being so damn close to me and, for once in this lifetime, he's not looking at me like I'm a little kid.

"Calla--"

His voice sounds as rough as his fingers feel; with a waver of uncertainty in it as he stares down at me from his six foot, three inches, plus boots, and works a muscle in his jaw on his left side.

"I wa--"

"That's mysister, asshole!"

I'm not sure which one of us jumps the farthest, me or Archer, as my brother's angry voice reaches us from the sidewalk outside the shop.

"I don't give a fuck what you meant, Cal doesn't date. If she did, it sure as fuck wouldn't be some asshole that talks about her like that!"

Archer clears his throat.

I feel the corners of my mouth lift with my shoulders in an embarrassed shrug.

Archer knows all too well how protective my brother is of me. In fact, he's stood with Rowan many times in defending me.

I know he does it because he thinks of me as the little sister he never had himself and he's just following Rowan's lead, but I wish he really was making sure no one else got near me because he wanted me for himself.

A girl can dream.

"Here," I thrust my arm forward, shoving the flowers toward him hastily and miscalculating the distance between us. My knuckles brush his broad chest, stopped short by the wall of solid muscle that's still much closer to me than I'm used to. "Tell your mom I said hi."

Outside the front door, we can hear my brother still shouting down the street at whoever said whatever about me as he makes his way back to the shop door that he left open.

Something flickers across Archer's face as Rowan calls my name; the hard thud of his work boots making it clear he's headed back here to find me.

"Yeah, thanks, what do I owe you?"

"Arch! You're here, awesome, man, I need to talk to you anyway." Rowan greets Archer with a slap on his shoulder before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"I don't want you talking to that Montgomery kid, hear me, Cal? If he comes around, you let me know.

"Kid's got no manners." He turns his attention to Archer, "I made it clear Callie's not interested. If he didn't get the message the first time, we might need to go tell him again."

Before my brother burst in, it looked like Archer was about to say something. Now, whatever it was is gone from his mind. He takes the flowers from me and gives me the same old, lopsided, Archer Dean grin that's been making my pulse race since I was just a dumb teenager with a crush.

"Don't worry about the flowers. You can make it up to me later."

A new expression crosses Archer's ruggedly handsome features, and for a second I expect him to make the joke that I clearly just Freudian slipped my way right into.

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