Page 16 of Turning Tides
“Marshall and I were talking about selling our house and getting a bigger place. Something with a spare bedroom.”
“You love your house. You and Marshall put hundreds of hours into renovating it.”
Cyrus sighed. “Yes, but it’s one bedroom and up until Archer came to stay, it was the perfect size.”
“Cyrus, don’t sell your house. I don’t know Archer that well, but I know he’d hate himself if you did that. Even if the tattoo shop can’t happen, the apartment is still his.”
“He can’t pay rent, Shane.” Cyrus waved his knife in the air, blanched, and set it down.
“Let him and me worry about that. You know I’m not hurting for cash, and you know why.”
Cyrus eyed me skeptically before eventually letting out a sigh. He grabbed his knife and went back to chopping. “If it were anyone else but you, I’d tell Archer that if it sounded too good to be true, it was. And I’d tell him to run the other way.”
He scoffed and his chopping became more aggressive. “Not that he’d listen to me anyway. I told him not to go into business with his friend. That the quickest way to ruin a friendship was to either become roommates or business partners. But Archer does what Archer wants. Always has.”
“It’s not like he wanted the guy to clean him out.” I knew Cyrus was just venting his frustrations, but I was compelled to stick up for Archer. I’d gotten a glimpse behind the curtain. Archer was tough, but even the strongest walls tended to crack eventually. And Archer had moments when he seemed fragile. One more wrong move, one more hit, and he might crumble.
“I love my brother, Shane, and it makes me feel like an asshole, but I really hope he takes you up on the offer for the apartment. One way or another. I’ve loved being able to help him, but all he’s done sincehe arrived is slink around town avoiding me. I swear we talked more before he moved here.”
I could empathize with Cyrus. I’d gone through similar things with my younger brother, Brodie. I realized I hadn’t heard from the youngest Taggart in a while and made a mental note to reach out to him soon.
“Everything will work out, Cyrus.” I squeezed his shoulder then told him I was going out front to get shit ready to open. Truthfully, I needed a minute when I wasn’t thinking about—or talking about—Archer. My body needed a moment to cool down, because every time I thought about him, my skin itched to be touched by him again. Already I wanted to track him down and beg him to take me again.
But now that I’d gone and invited him to run a business in my building, that probably had to come to an end. I tried to think of that as a good thing, but I did a shit job at convincing myself that I was better off this way.
Chapter 8
Archer
Shane Taggart was afucking mystery. Who the hell gave people they just met keys to their fucking building? The whole series of events was fucked up. One minute I was in the park and the next I was balls deep in my brother’s boss.
What I wouldn’t give to hit that again. Holy shit. Shane was a sight, all needy and quivering under me. It was like someone had broken into my brain and made a man in the shape of all my fantasies. Shane had been built to my specifications. Tall, tattooed, thick, scruffy bottom.
I shifted in my chair. I had to stop thinking of him all naked and—nope. Focus, Archer. He gave me keys. He gave me hope. I figured there had to be a catch, so my first stop was somewhere with food and wifi. I ordered myself dinner, grimacing at the paltry sum in my bank account. While I ate, I googled Shane Taggart. Sure enough, he’d won a lottery. A sum that made my eyes bulge out of my head popped up on the screen.
Deciding that I’d seen enough, I closed the tab and put my phone face down on the table. Shane had the ability to help me, and I couldn’t afford to say no. Those were the simple facts. The not-so-simple fact was that I’d fucked him and I wanted to do it again, but if I said yes to the space, it was like saying no to that ever happening again.
I wasn’t stupid. Men came and men went, but giving up this opportunity for a piece of ass, one that wasn’t even a sure thing,wasstupid. Maybe Shane didn’t do repeats. It was a no-brainer. I had to take the space. I was slowly suffocating at Cyrus and Marshall’s. They meant well, and I was grateful I’d had somewhere to go, but this felt like a lifeline. I’d been floating in the ocean, clinging to debris, and though Cyrus had tossed me a lifeline, Shane showed up with a whole fucking ship and offered to save me.
Saying no wasn’t an option. Flipping my phone over, I brought up Shane’s number and dropped him into my contact list. I gave him the initials LS. If anyone asked, it meant Landlord Shane. Only I would know that it meant Little Slut.
From memory, I made a sketch of the space, the parts I’d seen anyway. I hadn’t gotten a look at the bedroom or the bathroom, but I was less concerned about those. I sketched out the floor plan and then mapped out where my gear would go. All the equipment at the shop had been mine, and when Clayton took off, he’d at least had the decency not to steal my shit.
After drawing up a few different blueprints for the space, flipped to a new page and started drawing a new business logo. Of course I drew an archer. A nice bow and arrow in several different styles. But that wasn’t quite original. I wrinkled my nose. I was good at drawing shit. Less good at naming it.
All of this was moot if I couldn’t use the space for a business. Swallowing the last of my coffee, and my anxiety, I fired off a text to Shane telling him that I’d take the space and I’d set up as soon as I got the green light.
My pulse raced when I saw the three gray dots bounce up and down as Shane formulated a response.
Just heard from my guys. You’re good to go. All you need is a businesslicense.
The room swam around me and I forgot to breathe for a minute. This morning I’d been floating in the debris field, trying to see if there was anything useful in the wreckage of my life. And now I had a space for a business and a way to get the fuck off of Cyrus’s couch.
When can I move in?I texted him back with shaking hands.
I paid for my dinner while I waited for his answer. I had to get a business license. And borrow a truck to get all my shit out of storage. I had to design a logo and choose a new business name. Set up a new website. New social media. The to-do list in my head kept going and the longer it got, the more excited I became. I’d been without a plan for so long, that having one suddenly fall in my lap was like waking up on a random day and discovering Christmas came early.
Tonight if you want. It’s your space now. I’ll touch base tomorrow about a lease.
