Riley’s flat expression shifted to a huge grin when she saw Tori, and she skipped across the room, to wrap her in a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Riley whispered.
Tori returned the embrace, relaxing with the familiar greeting. “You’re up early for a Sunday.”
“Hey.” Archer’s greeting was hollow.
“Hey.” Riley leaned back next to Tori, bookshelves behind her, glass counter between her and Archer. Her pleasant expression never changed. “I know I don’t have any right to ask this, but I’m going to, anyway. I need a favor.”
Tori couldn’t ignore her relief at the stilted interaction. This was awkward, and it shouldn’t make her happy, but it did.
Archer’s, “Anything,” came too quickly for her taste, though.
Riley crossed her arms and took a step closer to Tori. “Don’t agree to it before you hear me out. I’m here because you’re local, and you deserve the business. Nothing else.”
“You know I don’t charge. Not getting what you want at home?”
Heat and embarrassment flooded Tori, and she wasn’t sure if it was for herself or the other people in the room. Her breakfast churned in her gut. Was he really hitting on Riley?
A low growl rumbled from Riley’s throat, soft but distinct in the room. “Don’t make me regret this. I’m looking for a place to hold my launch party.” Riley had contracted a series of graphic novels, several months back.
“I completely forgot that was happening so soon. Are you excited?” Tori pushed aside the tension settling over the room.
“I’m terrified. And thrilled. And you have to see the swag they’ve got for me. Trading cards, bookmarks”—Riley’s voice dropped in volume—“and this is totally top secret, but if the first few books do well, they’re talking to a figurine manufacturer.”
“No. Way.” Tori clapped once, glee filling her chest. “So incredible.”
“And I was hoping, if I asked really nicely, you might make me some cosplays, like the school uniforms the boys wear. I’ll pay full price. No arguments. One for Zane, one for me, maybe a couple for you two?”
“I love that. Absolutely.” Tori had no idea where she’d find the time, but she’d figure it out.
“Of course you can do it here.” Archer hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “We’ll order pizza—The Pie or something nice like that—and I’ll get it all set up.”
“We don’t have to worry about ordering pizza,” Riley’s tone was lightly sarcastic. “And The Pie? Really? Don’t worry about breaking the cobwebs on your wallet or anything. I have a marketing budget. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Tori wanted to shrink back on her stool, at the spike of tension. Riley never had trouble speaking her mind, and sometimes it was a lot of fun to watch, but it had never been pleasant to see her clash with Archer.
And he was acting like an asshole. What the hell was wrong with him, alternating between hitting on her and trying to completely control the situation?
“Don’t worry about it.” Archer’s tone was deceptively casual, a strong thread of command running through it. “Save your budget for something else.”
What happened to money being tighter than ever? Tori’s head throbbed.
“I said I’ve got it covered.” Any pleasantry was gone from Riley’s voice.
“Seriously, it’s no big deal.” Archer’s straight posture and strained neck looked like it was becoming a very big deal.
Riley’s snarl of frustration echoed through the shop. “Holy fuck—really? Jesus. I’ve been here for less than five minutes, and you’re already pulling this shit?”
“You wanted a favor. I’m offering my help.”
“Then help. Don’t try to dominate the situation.”
Archer narrowed his eyes. “I thought you got off on that.”
Riley clenched her jaw, and there was a pause before she replied, “This was a bad idea. Forget I was ever here.” She turned away, each of her steps shaking the store, as she stalked toward the door.
Tori wasn’t sure whether to congratulate Riley, storm out after her, or slap Archer.
“Lee, wait,” he called to her retreating figure.
Tori ground her teeth at the pet name. This was why she didn’t get involved with guys like him. At least he reminded her all on his own. Elliot had been so very wrong about how Archer felt about Riley.
Tori was on her feet in a second, pace brisk as she followed Riley’s path out the front door.
God, she’d been so stupid. What had she been thinking? She’d go home and bury herself in the punishment of work, until she’d scored into her head what a bad idea it had been to sleep with Archer.
“Tori. Oh, come on.” His pleas hit her back, and she let the door swing shut behind her.
Riley was fumbling with her keys when Tori reached their side-by-side cars. Riley looked up, blue eyes hard and flashing with fury. Her expression softened, and she nodded at Tori’s chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I...” She trailed off, furrowing her brow. “That makes this worse. I’m sorry.”
Tori looked down. Shit. One of Archer’s shirts. She hadn’t noticed before now. Now all she wanted to do was burn it. She gave Riley a weak smile. “It’s not your fault, but thanks.”
“It kind of is. I wish... You know, I don’t even know.”
Tori shook her head, not wanting to have this conversation or Riley’s pity. “It was my mistake. Lesson learned. Good luck finding a release-party venue.” She didn’t wait to hear if Riley replied. She was in her car and peeling down the road seconds later.
ARCHER WINCED AT THE squeal of tires out front, but not as hard as he had at the first set, when Tori had torn out on the pavement. Uneasiness thrummed through him. He needed to call Tori now or text her or go over to her house and beg forgiveness. An obnoxious voice in the back of his head insisted he did nothing wrong. That he’d been trying to help Riley out, and both women had overreacted.
If that was the case, why didn’t he believe it? He leaned back against the counter, grinding his teeth, frustration pumping through him. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen into the same old power struggle with Riley. It wasn’t that he needed to be right, but something about her refusal to be wrong pushed all his buttons, and not in a good way.
But he wasn’t worried about Riley. Tori’s face kept popping into his head—the red-rimmed eyes, the tight lips, and the fury in every line on her forehead.
He had his phone out in a flash. He should’ve kept a tighter rein on his instincts. Some of his worst habits reared their heads around Riley. How had they lasted any amount of time as a couple, let alone tried it more than once?
And he’d never wanted to put Tori through that. He had to tell her. Even if she was probably still driving, he couldn’t wait. He sent her a series of texts.
I’m sorry.
Come back, please?
You’ll miss anime club.
He hesitated, his thumbs over the touch screen, and he stopped himself from typing out, I’ll miss you. There was no reason to dive so far in. Was there?
If that was the case, why was there a giant aching wound in his soul from the entire situation?
Chapter Twelve
Archer smiled, and his chest lightened for the first time in days, when Tori’s car pulled up in front of the shop. She tugged a dry-cleaning-bag-wrapped something out of her backseat and trudged up the walk. She hadn’t returned any of his messages, and she refused to answer the door when he showed up to apologize in person.
It took all his restraint not to run out, scoop her up, and kiss her, telling her how sorry he was. He wasn’t sure where the compulsion came from, but everything about it appealed to him. Feeling her warm body against his. Tasting her. Making her moan.
She pushed inside, and her icy stare obliterated his impulse. Her gait was stilted as she crossed the room and draped the costume on the counter. “For Mara.” She set a folded T-shirt next to it—one of his. “For you.
”
“Thanks.” He poured as much warmth and sincerity into the single word as he could. “Can you hang out for a while?”
“No.”
“Are you coming back later?” He hated the desperation in his voice, but he needed her to hear it. To know he meant it.
“No.” Her phone buzzed and was in her hand in a flash. Her tone turned pleasant. “This is Tori.”
She reached the front door and spun on her heel, pacing toward the other side of the room again. She focused her gaze on the carpet for the most part. As she talked, she wore a virtual ditch in the middle of the floor. Her voice shifted from polite phone-voice, to abrupt, and then to the same clipped language she’d used with Archer. He’d heard her half of these conversations more times than he cared to count, but something was different about this one.
The pit in his chest grew, the more her mood soured, and every time he saw the tight lines on her face and her hard-set eyes, he beat back the desire to take the phone from her and tell off the person on the other end.
“Give me fifteen minutes.” Her voice sounded like a blade, cutting through the air-conditioning. She dropped the phone in its holster and finally met his gaze. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Red rimmed her eyes. She shook her head and turned away, the door rattling behind her seconds later.
He clenched his fists into tight balls. He’d never wanted to find someone and rip them a new one more than he did right then. Whoever had been on the other end of the phone should suffer for whatever they put her through.
At the very least, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her until she knew it was okay. He would’ve given anything to be able to erase those lines off her face and soothe her nerves.
She wasn’t talking to him, she wasn’t dealing with things at work as they deteriorated, and he was powerless to do anything about it. Or maybe he could do something, and if it put even a little smile on Tori’s face, he’d do it again and again.
He clicked on the first website his search engine directed him to. He picked out something with daisies, roses, and a teddy bear, and then paid for the as-fast-as-you-can delivery. He furrowed his brow when the screen told him there was a problem processing his payment. He tried again, and then a third time.
What the hell?
He took a detour to his credit-card site, and all sorts of negative emotions pumped through him when he saw the card was over its limit. How the fuck had that happened? He clicked back to the flower site, gave them his debit-card number instead, and then returned to the maxed-out balance.
How had he missed that? Things were worse than he realized. He needed a new money solution. Now. Maybe trying to puzzle through it would take his mind off Tori.
TORI PACED THE LENGTH of her living room. The faded carpet scratched at her bare feet. She needed to get the crap replaced. Or maybe put down some throw rugs, like Archer’s. Thinking of him added another layer to her mounting irritation. Best to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.
Voices buzzed through her blue-tooth earpiece and echoed in her head. Candace was explaining why the wrong art had been sent to big-ass-client Number One, how prototype designs had been shown to a group they weren’t meant for, and that it came down to Tori not reminding Candace to do her job.
“This is Mary.” A smooth voice came over the line.
Tori bit back the retort that they all knew who she was. The Vice President of Client Relations didn’t let anyone forget who she was.
“Tell me, Victoria,” Mary continued. “You knew this was a critical step and what kind of deadlines we were under. Why didn’t you check the art before it went to the client?”
Because that was what she paid Candace to do. Tori choked on the snide response. “I didn’t think I would need to—”
“What didn’t you understand about mission critical?”
Tori gave up keeping track of who was saying what. She knew all of the people by voice, but at this point, they were slinging shit at her. She muted her phone as another conversation erupted about why this happened, and she collapsed on her couch. Why couldn’t she defend herself? That was the root of everything. She couldn’t stand up for herself at work. She couldn’t tell Archer why she was really upset.
Someone knocked on the front door, and she hesitated. She tuned back into the phone conversation long enough to realize they weren’t going to ask for her input, and even if they did, they wouldn’t listen, so she decided to answer.
Unexpected tears stung her eyelids when she saw the large teddy bear holding a bouquet of daises and roses. The delivery guy handed over the bundle. “Victoria Goode?”
She nodded and took the stuffed animal from him. He flashed her a wooden smile, already turning away as he said, “Have a nice day.”
She extracted the flowers and set them on an end table, until she could dig up a vase. Her heart hammered a million miles a minute, as she pulled out the white envelope peeking up from the top. A typed script font read, If you won’t let me be there for you, maybe you’ll let this take my place. Archer.
A few tears escaped and trickled down her cheek, and she sniffled them back. She grabbed the bear by the hand, thoughts a jumble, and dragged it back with her. The stuffed animal was huge; it had to be at least three feet. She sat it next to her on the couch and then turned back to her laptop, though nothing was happening there, since everyone was on the phone call.
Then she realized something didn’t sound right. The buzzing in her ear had gone silent.
“Victoria,” Mary said, “are you still there? Do you have us on mute?”
Shit. Tori unmuted the phone. “I’m sorry. I’m still here.”
“Dana asked what you have to say for yourself.”
The haughty question snapped something inside. How dare Archer think he could apologize with a bunch of gorgeous flowers? Why the hell did her employees think they could push this on her? Who the fuck were these people, to think they could walk all over her?
“I’ll tell you what I have to say for myself.” Tori’s words were cold and removed even to her own ears, and she sank into the verbal ice, letting it encase and drive her. “I’m not the lackey you bitch at, because someone pissed in your coffee this morning. I’m fucking co-owner of this business, and you people work for me. And somehow this mess is my fault because I didn’t... what? Do your jobs for you? Because I didn’t anticipate you people were incompetent?”
Her messenger on her laptop chimed, and she ignored it. She was going to speak her mind. “Every time something happens, not only am I on call—even if it’s two on a Sunday morning—but I spend the next twelve hours telling each and every one of you, individually, why it happened, trying to be politically correct and not cast blame. I spend more of my life reassuring you I have things under control, than I do actually controlling them.”
Her messenger chimed, again.
“I’m sick of you not doing what you were hired for. Of you taking advantage of the fact I’m a lax manager. And maybe you ought to take a look at your operations as a whole, before you continue to lay blame on a single individual—”
“Did I miss something?” Brad cut over the line.
Great. Someone tattled to her brother. How fourth grade of them. “Not at all. I’ve got this under control,” she said.
“Fantastic.” A strain bled into Brad’s words. Would anyone but her hear that? “And I know this is urgent, ladies and gentlemen, but Tori and I have a family emergency, and I need her help. You can all take care of yourselves for a moment, right?”
She swallowed a growl and tried to sound as professional as he did. “I’ll speak with you, folks, later.” She disconnected and threw the phone aside.
A series of notes from Brad sat waiting on her messenger.
Mary emailed me. What’s going on?
Tori, this isn’t the way to handle this.
You’re frustrated. I get it. Take this offline with me, so we can figure out a solution.
Now, please.
She sent him back a note.
Fine. I’m done. You’ve been telling me for years to take a stand, and now I’m not doing it right? What do you want from me?
She flopped back on the couch, confusion, anger, frustration, and betrayal battling for her attention. She didn’t know how much time had passed—ten minutes or half an hour—when her phone rang.
“Hello.” Her voice was flat.
“What the hell was that?” Brad’s voice was loud enough to rattle her brain.
She turned down the volume on her phone. Fresh tears pricked her eyelids. Damn it. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t lose it now. But she couldn’t find the right words.
When she didn’t answer, he continued—hell, he might’ve continued anyway. “We had members of senior management from every branch of the company on that call. I’m glad you’re doing something about Candace, but this isn’t how you handle disputes.”
She managed to find her voice. “It’s how they handle disputes. You missed the ninety minutes of them dragging me through the mud.”
“If you want to flog one or more of those people privately—or even publicly—and they deserve it, that’s fine. You’ve got the authority to do that, and you never exercise it. But you can’t tear into them without focus. If you want them to take you seriously, this isn’t the way to do it.”
“Fire me.” She expected the words to taste bitter, but they were the best part of the conversation.
“Not funny. Candace has already filed a complaint with HR. Says you’re harassing her. I know you’re not. I’ve got your back on this. You’re not wrong, and I’m not upset at you. I’m a lot concerned that you snapped. What do you need from me, to get through this?”
A different job. A new perspective. She didn’t know. “I’m fine.”
“Tori—”
“I’ll be okay. I promise.” It took a force of will she didn’t think she had, to keep her tone steady. Would he buy it? “It’s been a bad day, but I’ve got it now.”
His Cosplayer (Love Games) Page 8