Bound to Be His (The Archer Family Book 2) (6 page)

She blinked. To be honest, she'd barely been with anyone besides him. The few sexual experiences she had had were fleeting and far less satisfying. After last night, it felt like she had a whole new meaning for sex all together. Like it could be something deep and powerful and...

She shook her head. "That's not the point."

"I think it is." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I liked being with you, too. You're good in bed. The way you wrapped your legs around me—"

Awareness shot between her thighs at the thought. "Stop. We're professionals. Even if the sex was fun, that's not the point. It can't happen again. We work together."

"Plenty of people work together and have sex." He shrugged.

"Not me. I don't mix business and pleasure."

"Ah, so you admit that I
pleasured
you?"

She rolled her eyes and then stopped short, clutching at a stitch in her side. He halted alongside her.

"Look, I got the message. It never happened and you're not ready for it to happen again," Matt said, and then turning on his heel, he added, "Just know that I'm going to be here for when you are ready."

And just like that, he strode off toward the villa, never once bothering to look back at her while he went.

F
or the rest
of the week, Matt made good on his promise.

He acted like nothing had happened between them. Hell, if anything, he was nicer than he'd ever been before. And, apparently by coincidence, much less clothed than usual.

Every day, the whole group of them would head out to the beach, oftentimes with Andy and Shay lagging behind, their arms laden with binders full of work or wedding information. Then, they'd lay out their stuff, lie back, and take in the sun.

It should have been soothing, relaxing. Productive, even.

Instead, it was an exercise in torture.

No matter how hard Shay tried to focus on work, Matt's low rumble of a laugh would distract her from across the way. He and Logan would be playing Frisbee or surfing on the waves, and she'd catch herself staring at him. Or worse, licking her lips as she watched the beads of water glistening against his broad, hard chest. Thank God Andy was so busy with the wedding, otherwise Shay would have had some serious explaining to do.

And if Matt noticed? He sure as hell didn't let on to it.

He treated her like she was just some woman now. Just some friend of his sister's. He didn't ask her questions about whether or not she'd gotten "leied" yet while she was on the island, or any other lewd questions poised to set her off. He was civil. Decent.

Which, of course, made things that much worse.

She never realized how she'd grown to kind of sort of like his teasing, his constant attention. And without it?

She didn't know what to do. Where to go.

So, when the night of the bachelorette party finally rolled around, Shay thanked God for the opportunity to get out of the house, out of her head, and most of all, out of view of Matt Archer.

Shay ushered an uncomfortable Andy through the crowd of half-dressed men, and tried to ignore the hoots and hollers coming from the crowd of older ladies they'd brought along with them. Nearly every woman who'd been invited to the wedding decided to tag along for the bachelorette party, and while Shay was happy to have plenty of help urging Andy to act a fool, she was starting to worry that Aunt Frieda and her cronies might just snag all the hot guys before Andy got the chance.

Still, Shay sat her in the very center of the catwalk and waited while the lights lowered and a new guy strutted onto the stage to the tune of "Dude Looks Like a Lady."

"This is a... confusing choice of song," Andy grumbled while the dude, who had hair down to his shoulders and did, indeed, look like a lady, began to grind his ass against the pole.

"I'm sure it'll get better." Shay plucked two drinks from the tray of a nearby waiter and dropped the payment in their stead, and then watched as Andy gaped at the gyrating man in front of her.

"What's the big shock? Logan doesn't do this at home?" Shay giggled.

"Can you imagine?" Andy shook her head. "You know, his fraternity had one of those bachelor auctions once and he and Matt both threatened to do something like this."

Shay felt her smile flicker, but she did her best to hold it in place. Matt. Why could she not get away from that guy? Talking about him. Thinking about him.

And what exactly he'd look like if he got up there and showed the world what he was working with.

"You're kidding." Shay forced her grin a little more.

"Nope. Logan chickened out, but you know Matt." Andy rolled her eyes. "He got up there in a cop uniform and made more money than all of the guys combined."

Shay had no doubt of that. Matt in his baseball uniform was one thing. But him in a police uniform? She could just picture his muscles rippling under the black dress shirt, the badge pinned to his broad chest, and the handcuffs... God, what he could probably do with those handcuffs.

"He's a hoot," Shay said, and then wanted to thunk her forehead with her palm.

He was a
hoot
? What else was he, the bee's knees? The cat's pajamas?

"He's something all right," Andy said, apparently ignoring Shay's momentary lapse. "I hope he's not giving you too hard of a time. I know he can be a pain in the balls when he wants to be."

"He
usually
wants to be," Shay offered.

Andy sipped her drink and nodded. "That's my dear old brother."

Mercifully, the subject shifted, and as they watched more dancers gyrate and grind on stage, Andy really started to enjoy herself whilst progressively drinking every cocktail a little bit faster. At least as far as Shay could make out between the slurred edges of her words.

Andy shouted along with the music and then shoved a dollar onto the stage in front of her.

Shay laughed, and Andy beamed back at her. "Thanks for taking me out tonight. You're a good friend."

"Don't mention it," Shay said. "What are maids of honor for?"

"I guess you're right. Cheers." Andy clinked her glass to Shay's.

They both drank—thankfully by now they'd switched to beer, and Shay watched her friend from the corner of her eye. All night, Andy had been grinning, talking about Logan and the wedding, chatting about all the amazing hopes and dreams she had for the future.

It was the happiest Andy had ever been in all the years they'd known each other, and Shay had known her for a very long time.

Still, as overjoyed as she was for her friend, a part of her stung with jealousy every time she took in Andy's smiling face. Shay wanted to feel that way, too. To have a reason for privately laughing to herself or getting lost in memories of a torrid love affair.

Or, one very specific torrid love affair.

"How long has it been since Matt had a serious girlfriend?" Shay asked, hoping the buzz of alcohol would dull the suddenness of her question.

Andy let out a long whistle. "Probably never."

"Never? Not one?" Shay raised her eyebrows.

"Who are
you
to judge? I can't say that I remember seeing
you
with anybody serious in all the time I've known you."

"I..." Shay swallowed.

That couldn't be right. She'd dated, after all. She'd dated plenty. There was John and Paul and... and...

George and Ringo?

She had nothing. Because as many dates as she'd been on over the years, not one of them seemed to have staying power in her memory. There was one guy, she guessed, back when Andy still couldn't admit she was into Logan, but that too had been another fling.

Another distraction from what she was slowly realizing she'd known for a long time now.

"I guess I have sort of played the field."

"You guess? You two are a match made in heaven," Andy said, and Shay stared back at her friend blankly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shay asked.

"Come on, the girl who doesn't believe in love and the guy who doesn't commit? That practically writes itself."

"What are you—"

"Then add to that the disenfranchised youth. The mother problems—"

"Andy—"

Andy let out a long breath. "I'm just saying you could do worse. And if you think I don't see the way you look at him, then you're really fooling yourself."

"I think you mean the way he looks at me," Shay shot back, mostly because it was all she could grasp hold of to say. Andy couldn't be serious. After all this time, all the careful planning and avoidance—Andy knew?

"The way you look at each other, more like."

"What happened to my shy, lovesick friend?" Shay asked.

Andy's mouth tilted into a smile as she sipped her beer, and then she said, "She got tired of watching you avoid the one thing you've always been meant for."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"No," Andy said simply. "But if you think it is, that's fine."

"So... you're what? Giving me your blessing?"

"Honestly, I can't think of what else to do. I tried to foist his case on you to get you two to realize—"

"You
what
?" Shay nearly sprayed her beer across the stage.

Andy only rolled her eyes. "Don't be so shocked. I only did it because I asked myself what you would do in my shoes. Remember how you were with Logan?"

"I remember saying you should give it a try, but I never—"

"You forced me to go to that photoshoot. You forced me to face the facts," Andy cut her off.

"What if the facts are that I don't want anything serious? Did you ever think of that?"

"Fine, then don't do anything serious. Just do
something
."

Shay surveyed her friend for a long minute and then thought over the way Matt had been for the past few days. The way he ignored her. The way he barely looked at her.

"What if he's not interested anymore?" she nearly whispered.

"Only one way to find out." Andy waggled her eyebrows.

L
ogan's bachelor
party was not the usual fare.

Then again, Logan wasn't a usual kind of guy. Instead of the crowd of men chugging back drinks and sticking dollar bills down G-strings, Matt had opted to take his friend to the one place his sister had insisted he'd like. It had taken a lot of doing, of course, but to see the way Logan's face lit up when they walked through the stadium doors had totally been worth it.

Now, an hour later, Matt was huddled in the dugout with his older brother and Logan, shooting the shit while they all stared out into the lit-up field. It was perfectly green, just like the rest of the state, but had the benefit of hardly ever being used, and each of the men looked at the AstroTurf like a country desperately in need of conquest.

Logan slugged down the last of his beer and then rubbed his hands together. "When are you two finally going to join me on the field? Or are you scared?"

Derrick guffawed. "How do you plan on scaring
me
?"

Matt smiled. His brother was wearing his best Army-of-One scowl as he surveyed Logan, and Logan said tentatively, "Okay, well, maybe not you. But how about you, Matt? You game?"

"Damn straight." He grabbed his mitt and a ball from the crate they'd brought along, and then jogged onto the mound. "How about some batting practice? I'll pitch, you hit, Derrick catches."

"I don't know. Can Derrick run that far?" Logan offered them a cocky smile, and Derrick's jaw ticked.

Logan cleared his throat. "Right, good. I'm sure you'll be great. I tend toward the right, so—"

"
Tend
?" Matt guffawed.

"Hey, nobody asked for input from the peanut gallery," Logan called over his shoulder while all three men took their places on the green. As he walked, Matt popped the ball into the air and caught it over and over again, just like he'd done in physical therapy. Just like before...

He shook his head. He didn't need to think about any of that, least of all right now.

Logan took his stance, and Matt wound up, stopped, and straightened out his stance. He wound up again and then said, "I wonder how the girls are holding up."

"If you're trying to break my concentration, it's not going to work."

"No, of course not. I'm just wondering, you know, if Andy liked the strip club."

"You could try pitching, you know," Logan shot back, and this time Matt complied. He threw a speed ball right down the center of the plate, a beauty of a pitch if ever he'd thrown one, and when Logan swung, he was met with nothing but the whoosh of air.

"What's the matter, Logan? Distracted?" Derrick called from the outfield, and Matt laughed.

"Just warming up." He grabbed the ball from where it'd landed by the gate and threw it back to Matt.

Matt turned the ball in his hand, trying to focus on what to throw next, but instead wondered about Shay. How her night had been. If she'd had a lap dance from some guy who'd put his hands all over her...

He chucked the ball, and it was so fast and outside the mark that Logan had to jump back to avoid getting hit.

"I'm starting to think you're the one who's distracted," Logan said.

"Dream on," Matt said, but he straightened his stance a little more firmly all the same. There was no doubting Shay had an effect on him, but he had to ignore it. Hopefully, if he did that long enough, it would go away altogether.

Then he could focus on the important things. Like how weird it was to be in a major league stadium again. There were no signs for local businesses here. No, here it was Coca-Cola and Coors and—

"That's a ball from a mile away," Derrick called as Matt let another throw soar over Logan's head.

"You know, you don't have to take it easy on me. I'm a big boy," Logan said.

Matt rolled his eyes and snagged the ball out of the air when Logan threw it back to him.

"Sorry, just a little out of practice, I guess."

He focused again, pushing Shay from his mind and instead becoming one with the stadium. The way it felt to be surrounded by the huge luxury bleachers. Remembering how it felt to hear the roar of the crowd when he struck out one batter after the next.

He threw, and Logan's swing met with nothing but air.

It hadn't been so long ago that that had been his life. It wouldn't be too long until it was again.

And then, when it happened, Shay would be there in the VIP section, maybe wearing all the team pride swag she could, her dark hair hidden until a baseball cap. She'd jump up and down and chant along with the crowd. Rooting just for him and—

"Ball!" Derrick shouted as Matt's last throw landed just outside the plate. "Count's loaded. What you going to do?"

Logan grinned and choked up on his bat, and then stepped outside of the bat to practice his swing.

This was it, one last chance to redeem himself. He rolled the ball inside his mitt, took a deep breath, loosed it, and—

"
Fuuuuuuuuck
." A pain so intense shot through his wrist that he doubled over. He hardly heard the crack of the ball on the bat as it connected. Instead, he held his injury with a firm grip and bit down hard on his bottom lip, his cheek, anything to distract him from the pain and get the guys to ignore his reaction.

It didn't work, though.

Instead of heading for the plate, Logan was sprinting toward the mound, along with Matt, both of their brows knit in concern.