Graphically Novel (Love Hashtagged #3)

by Allyson Lindt

  He shrugged. “Tori’s the best. If she says it will look good, you’ll knock the right guy’s eyeballs out.”

  “Awesome. You need measurements, right?” Mara grinned, gripped the bottom of her T-shirt, and lifted.

  Tori rested a hand on Mara’s, to keep her from stripping in the middle of the store. Archer’s, “Whoa,” overlapped with Tori’s, “Let’s maybe do this somewhere… not in front of the window.”

  The words passed her lips and tugged a memory with them, searing her skin and making her pulse race. She met Archer’s gaze, and he raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his face.

  Fortunately, Mara had already turned away with an exaggerated, “I guess.”

  A few minutes later, down-payment in pocket, and girl assured again she’d look sexy, Tori emerged from the back room. Normally she didn’t have to be so precise with measurements, but for something as fitted as what Mara wanted, she’d need to know exactly how tight she could make the fake bandages.

  Mara practically skipped out the front door, waving to Archer and promising to be back soon—just to visit. Archer’s goodbye wave was stiff, and his smile off. At least he had the good sense to be embarrassed about a young girl hitting on him.

  And then Tori noticed someone else was there. She was surprised to see Elliot. “I know it hasn’t been a month since you were in here last.”

  “Actually, I was looking for you.” He rubbed the back of his head, not meeting her gaze. “I’m in town to talk to someone else, and I saw your car out front.”

  He knew which car was hers? Something slapped against the glass counter, echoing through the room and startling her. She whirled toward the sound.

  “Sorry.” Archer gave an apologetic shrug as he shifted a pile of books into a neat stack.

  “No worries.” She turned back to Elliot. “What’s up?”

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I… uh…” She snapped her jaw shut to keep it from dropping open. She hadn’t expected this. Did she think of Elliot as dating material? She resisted the urge to look at Archer; it wasn’t as if they were a couple. No strings, he was still rebounding from Riley, and all that. Instead, she tried to be subtle about looking over Elliot. She’d never noticed before, but he was kind of cute. Curious brown eyes hid behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and straight black hair accentuated his slender face.

  Shit. She was taking too long to respond. There was no reason not to go, right? “Sure.” She focused on making her smile genuine. “Sounds great.”

  A loud bang bounced off the walls, followed by the clatter of glass, metal, and plastic, striking glass. She jumped and whirled to face Archer again. He was kneeling next to the display case, and half the things inside had tumbled and fallen on top of each other.

  “Oops.” His expression was as flat as his voice.

  Was he reacting to the conversation? She pushed the tiny voice aside. There was no reason to project her insecurities on him. At the most, he might be worried she’d sour things with his distributor. She’d make sure Elliot knew that whatever happened between them had nothing to do with Archer or his business.

  * * * *

  Tori picked at her chicken. She was lot of fun talking to Elliot, but with every passing moment, it became clearer why she’d been so surprised at the dinner invitation. There was zero spark between them.

  He set his fork down without making a sound, pulled the cloth napkin from his knee, and fidgeted with it for a moment, before returning it to its spot. “If you two are a thing, you could have told me no without offending me. The truth would sting but I’d live.”

  For the second time that night, he’d caught her off guard. “I’m sorry, us two…?”

  “You and Archer.”

  “We’re not a thing.”

  “You’re sure?” His brows rose past the tops of his glasses.

  She was so sure, it ached. No. Wait. It didn’t hurt at all. “I’m positive. Even if I were interested, he’s still coping with what happened with Riley. Everyone knows that.”

  He snorted, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t find that amusing.”

  “It’s okay, but I don’t get the joke.”

  He leaned forward. “You’ve known them all for what? Four years?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’ve worked with Archer almost since he opened the place, eight years ago,” Elliot said. “And I know a lot of people look at me and think comic geek, but no one survives this long in sales, without being able to read people at least a little bit.”

  “Okay…?”

  “The whole twisted-love-triangle thing has been going on since before Zane enlisted. Between you and me, I’d bet my commission Archer means it when he says he’s over Riley. He just hates that she was the one who left, and he’s spinning his wheels, blaming himself for it.”

  “Archer’s not like that.”

  He twisted his mouth in disbelief. “You spend more time with him than I do.”

  “Exactly.” Was it true? No. It couldn’t be. Not that it mattered; she wasn’t interested anyway.

  He turned his attention back to his half-eaten steak. “Speaking of Archer, since you and I obviously aren’t going anywhere, give me an excuse to write dinner off instead?”

  Her skin crawled at the implication. At least she knew now he had a different expectation at the end of dinner than she did. At this point, she was tempted to cut the conversation short and call a cab. He implied she led him on, gossiped about her friends, and then asked for a way get his money’s worth for dinner if she wasn’t putting out. “I can’t make decisions on his behalf. I’m simply another customer.”

  “Right. Of course. But you’re not. You’re a brilliant costume designer.”

  If he hadn’t already soured the evening, the compliment would have warmed her. “Thanks.”

  “And I still think you should be doing it full time.”

  “I already do.” She was bordering on the edge of a mild confrontation, and she wasn’t interested in that at all.

  “Technically. Right. But here’s the thing—we have a sponsorship option we’re going to implement with different shops.”

  “How’s that work then?”

  “We don’t ask for exclusivity or anything. Basically, we pay Archer and shops like his a set amount every month, and in return, he gives our books, posters—whatever we send him—high-visibility spots in his store.”

  Cool. Archer didn’t like to ask for help, but this was payment for services, not charity. It sounded too easy, though. “That’s neat and all, but how does it involve me?” she asked.

  “I think the offer would be more valuable all around if we could loop you in.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”

  He chuckled. “It’s easy. We’d ask you to provide a different outfit from one of our books every week—you pick the outfit, and we pay your standard rate—and it gets displayed in his shop. Sell it when the week is up. Do whatever you want with it. We’d pay him a little more, and you extra for your time as well.”

  Her heart jumped and her brain screamed that it sounded brilliant. A chance to do more of what she chose. “I don’t know how that would be cost effective for you.” Not what she meant to say. Damn it, her business oriented side kicked in.

  “Trust me, the numbers work. All I need from you, besides the desire to do this, is to work whatever sexy magic you can on Archer, and get him to sign on as well.”

  Something about his tone and posture poured a layer of slime over her hope. She tried to shake the feeling, but it sank in. “I’ll talk to Archer.” As long as she could get past the way he reacted last time she tried to talk business with him. On top of that, could she suck him into something that didn’t sit right with her to begin with?

  “Right. Sure you will.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ambivalence surged through Archer when Tori s
tepped into the shop. He couldn’t believe he lost his cool last night, with Elliot around. And seeing her now—a hint of joy playing on her face and her posture relaxed—the unfamiliar jealousy danced with denial under his skin. Whatever was wrong with him, he needed to tone it back and get it under control. It was none of his business who Tori went out with.

  He forced himself to smile. “Free of the chains, two days in a row? Is that a record?”

  “Something like that.” A waver ran through her laugh. She settled onto one of the wooden stools behind the counter resting her hands by her thighs on the seat.

  He forced his attention to stay on her face. He wouldn’t stare at her cleavage, the seductive curve of her breasts, and the way her narrow waist vanished into gorgeously grabable hips. He’d make small talk instead. “How was your date?”

  “Not bad. Not fantastic, but you can’t click with everyone, you know?”

  A smattering of relief trickled through him. Two boys, maybe eleven or twelve, wandered into the shop. Their shirts had an expensive designer’s name on them, and their jeans sagged almost to their knees.

  Both glared at him. The shorter one elbowed the taller one, whose upper lip pulled in a sneer. “What are you looking at?”

  Great. A headache, and they probably wouldn’t spend a dime. Archer shook his head and turned away. They weren’t worth the grief. He’d let them talk their shit and leave when they realized the store was a troll-free zone. As long as no one else came in for them to bait in the meantime, it wouldn’t be an issue.

  “Damn straight.” The snide retort hit his back. “Fucking pedo.”

  Archer clenched his teeth and turned to Tori again. He wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t pound the boys into a pulp, because it wouldn’t solve anything, and more importantly, because he didn’t want to deal with assault charges. It was half the reason he had the shop completely wired with cameras. Sure, it helped prevent theft, but the digital eye didn’t lie in a civil case.

  Tori twisted her mouth to the side, a new shadow falling over her eyes. If this level of confrontation was bugging him, it had to be devouring her. He was surprised she hadn’t found an excuse to vanish into the back room. Maybe she was finally getting used to the fact that some people were just misery-spewing assholes.

  “Anyway. What are you up to today?”

  She leaned to the side, glanced at something behind him, and then straightened again. “Not sure yet. I’m not used to having an entire free Saturday. If you weren’t working, I’d say we should go do that Alpine Coaster thing again.”

  The flood of memories slammed back into him, bringing tastes and smells to tempt him. His cock twitched. Maybe if they found somewhere more secluded, they could get further than they had in the mountains. “Derrek’s coming in at three.”

  Her smile grew, eyes pulling up at the corners, and then vanished when she looked over his shoulder again. “You can leave that at the counter until you’re ready to pay.” There was a waver to her voice.

  Archer looked, to find the boys standing near the front door, the taller one’s jeans not hanging as well as when they came in.

  The shorter one whispered something. The taller one’s sneer returned.

  “I’m not carrying anything.” His voice cracked, disrupting his lie.

  Tori’s arm brushed Archer’s, as she moved to stand next him. A glance out of the corner of his eye told him her arms were crossed.

  “The figurine you shoved down the leg of your pants. You need to pay for it.” Her tone was firmer now. More clear and confident.

  The taller kid took a step back and ran into the shorter one’s hand. The taller kid said, “Fuck you, bitch. You can’t accuse me of carrying shit so you have an excuse to make me drop my pants.”

  Archer clenched his jaw, and all the frustration from the night before rushed back, this time with a target. He crossed the room quickly, stopped short of the pair, and rose to full height. “The young lady said you’ve got something on you.”

  Shorty nudged his companion again, who mimicked Archer’s arms-crossed-and-shoulders-back posture. The occasional crack in his voice would’ve been funny, if not for the words he spewed. “Your bitch doesn’t belong in a comic book store. Why don’t you leave us alone, you fucking pedo, and go find out what a real pussy feels like? Take the whore in the back room and rape her until she knows her place is in the fucking kitchen.”

  Archer wouldn’t pound the kid into a pulp. Fists clenched, he uncrossed his arms and took another step forward. There was no reason to let the punk know he considered restraint.

  Both kids stepped back at the abrupt threat, and a plastic-wrapped collectible dropped from the leg of the older one’s pants and tumbled to the ground.

  “Get out before I call the police and have your asses hauled to jail until you’re old enough to buy booze.” Archer spoke between clenched teeth, but his growl echoed back from the walls.

  “Fucking pedophile. Feminist asshole,” the kid said. This time, he ignored his friend’s nudge and dragged him out the front door, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. His pace quickened when Archer took another step toward the door.

  He wouldn’t go after the kids. They weren’t worth the hassle. Even if every bit of him wanted to pound their skulls until those boys learned respect. He grabbed the toy from the floor and raised an eyebrow when he realized it was one of his rare imports—a two-hundred-fifty dollar Japanese collectible.

  He turned back to Tori, frowning when he saw her arms were still crossed, her fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave pale marks. He set the toy aside and stepped closer to her. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, jaw clenched.

  “You sure?” He caressed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

  “I’m fine.” Her reply was raspy.

  He pointed her back to the stool, grabbed a bottle of soda from the refrigerated case behind the counter, and twisted off the top before handing it to her. “Thanks for rescuing Nao.”

  “I didn’t do it for her; I did it for you.”

  An impulse snaked through him, and he pushed aside the desire to dip his head and brush his lips over hers. Instead, he took a step back and leaned against the counter. “Then, double thank you.”

  *

  Tori shook the glass bottle, and the marble inside rattled around the bottom. The melon ramune Archer had pulled for her vanished half an hour ago, but watching the trinket inside kept her from thinking about the scene with the would-be shoplifters. Every time portions of the confrontation flitted through her thoughts, her gut churned.

  Archer kept up more than his share of the conversation, occasionally asking if she was okay.

  The door chimed, and out of instinct, Tori swiveled her head toward the noise. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Archer do the same. It was Gwen, but not the woman who ran the diner down the street or dressed casually when Tori saw her with Brad. In her high heels, she was almost as tall as Archer. And they were nice heels. The matte black matched her slacks, and her white blouse hung like silk and didn’t have a single wrinkle in it.

  Looking past her, Tori saw a high-end SUV parked next to the curb outside, and the boys from earlier sat in the back seat, flipping Tori off from the rolled-down window.

  “I always wondered what it looked like in here.” Gwen swept her gaze around the room, lingering on a few spots, before giving Tori a quick smile and turning back to Archer. “I hear you met my charming nephews.” She gestured at her clothes. “I dressed nice for lunch with my brother, but his kids are wearing jeans that sag past their asses.”

  Tori might have been confused by the almost cool demeanor but it was one of Brad’s tricks. Give nothing away until the situation had been assessed. The question was, why did Gwen need to do that here? Why wasn’t she profusely apologizing instead?

  Archer stood up straight, hands at his sides, gaze never leaving Gwen’s. “That’s one way to describe them.”

  Tori wasn’t sure she wa
nted to see whatever this was. Deep down, she wanted to hide in the back room until the conversation was over, but she sat frozen to the chair, afraid moving would draw unwanted attention.

  “The older one—Robby—tells me you threatened him with physical violence”—Gwen’s lips drew into a thin line—“and told him he was a worthless little punk and you were going to nail his ass to the wall.”

  Tori coughed, and Gwen glanced in her direction before turning back to Archer.

  “I’m sorry, that’s not the case. The boys were shoplifting. Tori stopped them. I threatened to call the cops on them, but no one touched anyone,” he said.

  “Are you calling my nephew a liar?”

  Tori’s confusion levels peaked. What the hell was going on? This woman, with those asshole kids as nephews, was about to marry her brother.

  Archer’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and his back went stiff. “You asked what happened, and I told you.”

  “Because you’re making a serious accusation. Those darling angels”—her voice wavered then evened again—“have never been caught doing anything like what you say, and there are serious legal repercussions involved in making a claim like yours.”

  Tori couldn’t do this. She knew Archer was going to stay as neutral as possible, and she knew his reasons, but this was different. She wasn’t going to let some snotty, stuck-up kid tattle after being an unforgivable ass and get away with it. She leaned over to the computer tied to the register, hit the right keys to exit the point-of-sale software, and then pulled up the directory with the security backups in it. She licked her lips. “Drop the bullshit act. This isn’t a business negotiation.”

  “It could be. Prove otherwise.”

  Nervous, sick adrenaline coursed through Tori. “Did you see the sign when you walked in the store, saying we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone?”

  “I did. I also saw the Better Business Bureau sign next to it. Have you dealt with formal complaints from them before?”