After two full days of no work, I’m ready to be back. Time off isn’t good for my chaotic mind. I unlock the door to Focus and flip on the lights. Duke follows me in and without a word, making his way to the kitchen.
“Hello to you, too,” I call after him, but only get a grunt in return. He’s so cranky.
I check my phone to see if I have any new messages before going through my opening duties. Surprisingly enough, Archer didn’t disappear after our kiss. He texted me that night and throughout the day yesterday. We didn’t mention what happened, but chatted about what we were doing, sending pics back and forth. He sent me a snap of Lou pushing Emmy on a swing and I sent him a pic of a new plant I picked up that I named Brenda.
It was fun and casual. And friendly. Extremely friendly. Which is good because I predicted Archer having a massive freak-out and never talking to me again after our lip-lock.
I smile when I see a waiting text.
Archer: How’s Brenda?
Me: She’s a sassy bitch, but she’s settling into her new home.
Archer: You at work?
Me: Yep. Just got here. Prepping for Sara and then going to the club. It’s too bad you’re on gunkle duty or you could come hang out.
Archer: Maybe later this week, I could ask the neighbor to come babysit for a few hours.
Me: You’d want to do that?
Archer: Sure. I haven’t been out in ages. If BFB is going to be my new home, I might as well get familiar with the locals.
Me: That’s a whole can of worms you’re opening. The men of Brigs Ferry will be all over your fresh meat.
Archer: Is that a euphemism?
Me: Yep.
Archer: I’ll talk to Sara about it. Surely the owner of the club could keep me safe.
I’m tempted to tell him I can’t keep him safe if I’m the one who wants his meat, but that goes against our friendly boundaries, so I shoot him a ninja emoji and lock my screen, tucking my phone in my back pocket.
I’ve just flipped the neon sign to open when Jarrett comes in, Fernando in tow.
“Just the guys I need to see,” I greet.
“First, pinot, then talk,” Jarrett says, both of them taking a seat at the bar.
“On it.” I take out three wine glasses. I’ll need it to get through this conversation. I give us each a healthy portion, watching Jarrett’s eyes widen.
“This must be juicy if you’re being generous with your pour.” He accepts the glass and takes a long drink. “Now spill.”
I explain every detail of what’s been going on between Archer and me. Of all my friends, Jarrett is the most levelheaded and Fernando is the most loyal. I can count on them to give it to me straight. When I’m finally done, I drink half my glass of wine in one gulp, readying myself for the honesty about to smack me in the face.
“I don’t know, Kian. This sounds like a bad idea,” Fernando responds first. “But I think you’re aware of that.”
“I know what I’m getting myself into. It’s not ideal, but I can handle it. Besides, it was one kiss and now we’re back to being strictly friends.”
“Pfft.” Jarrett huffs. “Can we just get beyond all the bullshit? You have feelings for this guy.”
“He has feelings for me too,” I defend.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re in a place in your life where you’re ready for feelings. He’s not. That puts you on an uneven playing field.”
“I agree with Jarrett,” Fernando says. “You’re playing two different games with two different goals.”
“Can we stop using sports references? I don’t understand them.” I distract from the conversation. I know what they’re saying, I just don’t want to hear it.
The door opens then and Sara walks in, head down with the same disheveled appearance from last week. Archer said she’s been sad, but he’s not concerned. He’s being naive to her situation, but like he’s pointed out to me more than once, I don’t know her like he does.
“Hey, honey. How are you?”
“Fine. Good,” she rushes out.
“It’s our favorite bartender,” Jarrett calls out and I scowl at him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. She’s nicer than you. More attentive.”
“That’s because you guys are shit tippers.”
“They always tip me well,” Sara adds in with a tiny grin. It’s good to see, so I let the jab slide.
“Obviously I’m not needed here anymore. Time for me to escape to the den of sin.” I wave at my friends. “Let’s do coffee soon.”
“Okay. Stop by the store, I got a new plant stand I think you’d like. I stripped it and painted it baby pink,” Jarrett calls after me.
“Will do.” I direct my gaze to Sara. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I always do.”
Next door, the place is bumping, but I lock myself in my office after making the rounds and checking in with my staff. The front of the house takes care of itself between managers and solid employees. I rarely am needed at all, the only reason I choose to open Focus up each night is because that’s when my friends usually pop in. Otherwise, I’d hire someone to work that shift too.
I touch the screen of my phone, planning to answer some emails, but find a waiting text. It’s a picture from Archer. He has a fort made in Sara’s living room and he and the kids are tucked in, waving at the camera. Archer’s smile is blinding, even from underneath his thick beard. It reminds me of what it felt like to have those whiskers pressed against me. They’re rough and prickly, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a way you hope it leaves abrasions on your skin so you can remember them for a few days.
I decide to call versus text back.
“Hey,” he answers on the first ring. The background is chaotic and that’s coming from someone who owns a gay club.
“Hey yourself. That’s a badass fort you guys made.”
“It is. We’ve just added cardboard boxes to the sides for stability. Emmy kept yanking the sheets down.”
“Did not,” a tiny voice hollers.
“Did too,” another tiny voice hollers back.
“Guys, quit. We’ve gone over this. Emmy, you did pull it down. Lou, it wasn’t her fault. That’s why we put up the walls,” Archer chides.
“Oh, daddy. Your stern voice is super sexy,” I tease.
“If being a part-time gunkle, as you put it, has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t want to be a daddy.” I can almost hear him running a hand through his hair.
“I hear ya. Kids are cute and all, but they’re dirty and mouthy.”
“Yep. Both of those.”
“I’m calling to see if you made any progress on finding a free night this week. I need to make sure I get all my work done, so I can hang out with you and protect you from the locals.” It’s the truth. There’s no way I’m setting him free on the dance floor without me. We may only be friends, but he’s still mine.
“Yep. I got the neighbor to agree to Thursday. That work for you?”
“Perfect.”
“See you then. Bye, Kian.” There’s amusement in his voice. I love the way it sounds.