Bound to Be His (The Archer Family Book 2)

by Allison Gatta

  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.

  * * *

  Logan'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.

  "Yo
u okay, man? We need to go to the hospital?" Logan asked.

  "Let me see it." Derrick held out his hand, and Matt allowed him to survey the damage. Still, the hurt was already ebbing away. He must have just moved it wrong, got part of the bone that was still healing from the bruise.

  "It's fine, okay? Let's just get back to what we were doing."

  "I don't think so. After you reinjured yourself last year—" Derrick started, but Matt pulled his arm away.

  "I'm already feeling better. Look, I don't want anybody to baby me. I was hurt, but I'm not dead. Everything is going to be okay."

  "Let's just go back to the dugout and drink for a bit. We'll get back on the field a little bit later," Logan offered.

  "I'm telling you I can do it."

  "And I'm telling you I'm not willing to take that kind of risk. Not with you. Not again," Logan said, and because it was his bachelor party, Matt conceded.

  The rest of the night carried on without incident, but Matt could still feel the injury hanging over his head like the black cloud it always was in his life. They killed a twelve pack of beer and then headed back onto the field, and though nothing happened, he could still feel the tension in his brother and Logan. Could see all the swings and catches they'd missed that they wouldn't have if they'd been on their game.

  Dammit. This was just like his injury to ruin a perfectly good evening.

  To ruin a perfectly good career.

  By the time it was Matt's turn up to bat, Logan got a drunk call from his bride-to-be and everything was on hold.

  "I'm glad you're having a good time," he was saying, and Derrick and Matt looked at each other while they listened to the thunder of their sister's slurring from the receiver.

  "You're on your way home?" he asked, and then made a gesture for the guys to pack up. When he hung up, he said, "Sorry, Matt. We'll hit the batting cages soon. I have a feeling the rest of the night is going to involve holding back hair." He grinned.

  "And that's the girl you want to marry?" Derrick asked.

  "Hell yeah it is." Logan grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

  Chapter 7

  That night, Matt lay on his bed, opening and closing his palm and waiting for the last of the pain to subside. In the old days, when the injury was fresh, this kind of pain was something he could only dream about—manageable, workable. But now?

  Every pang sent his mind whirring back to the phone. The texts from his physical therapist. The call for the majors that he still hadn't gotten.

  He rolled over, careful not to put any weight on his hand, and got to his feet.

  He'd never paced before, but this seemed like the time for it—when he had a problem that couldn't be solved.

  And when Shay still wasn't home...

  He pushed that thought away, too. What should it matter to him whether or not Shay got home at a reasonable time? It was a bachelorette party. They should be out all night, and they'd deserve it if they were.

  Just so long as it was just the two of them...

  He shook his head and turned on his heel. Yes, pacing was good. Pacing at least made him feel like he was doing something instead of just sitting there staring at the ceiling. At least while he was moving he could—

  The door burst open and then, just as quick, slammed shut with Shay now leaning against the white door.

  "Okay, so we need a couple ground rules." She huffed a strand of her dark hair out of her face.

  "Um... hello to you, too?" He stopped short and surveyed her, trying to determine if she was drunk.

  She wasn't swaying; her eyes weren't glassy or half-lidded. Her hair was a little haphazard, but it was nothing unmanageable. In fact, if it wasn't for the red glow on her cheeks, she might have looked completely normal.

  Normal, of course, in the way that Shay was normal—her slender body wrapped in the slinkiest black dress he'd ever seen. The collar dipped just low enough for him to catch a trace of her cleavage, but then—

  He internally shook his head again. Impassive. That was the new stance. Whatever she did, he was impassive.

  No matter how fuckable she looked in her shiny red heels.

  "We... I'm not sure where to start."

  "Probably with an aspirin. Are you drunk?" he asked.

  She shook her head furiously. "I stopped drinking hours ago when I finally decided that..."

  She trailed off again and then took a deep breath and said, "I just poured Andy into bed. Logan was already asleep."

  "Okay." He nodded.

  "They're both pretty knocked out. It's just you and me."

  The huskiness in her voice gave him pause, but he said, "Good, if we play Yahtzee, I'll know I can yell."

  "No. Listen. I... We need some rules."

  "Like not barging into my bedroom?" The corner of his mouth quirked up, and she rolled her eyes.

  "Don't make me change my mind."

  "That's a big ask when I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said.

  She nodded. "Right, right. Well... look, I've been thinking. This thing between us. It's not going away. I don't think it's going to, and I think it's been there for a lot longer than either of us will admit."

  He stayed silent, unsure whether to trust whether she really meant what he thought she meant. And if she did...

  His gaze flicked to the messy tangle of his sheets. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying we need some rules."

  "What, like Pretty Woman? No kissing?"

  "How the hell do you know the rule in Pretty Woman?"

  "I'm a man. I'm not dead."

  She shook her head. "Right. Not important. Rules. We need to, I don't know, agree that whatever we do is confined to our bedrooms. No PDA. We're not a couple."

  "So... you want me as your booty call?"

  "Yes, I guess. My very secret, temporary booty call."

  "How temporary?"

  "Just until we're off the island. By then, we'll have all this out of our systems and we can find people we're more compatible with without wondering, you know—"

  "What would have happened if we'd slept together more than we already have?"

  "Right."

  "You know you're crazy, right?"

  She nodded. "Yup. Now take off your pants."

  * * *

  Matt laughed, and stared at her, though he did loop his thumbs through his belt loops hopefully. She couldn’t be serious, though. Not really.

  What woman just barged into a man’s room and demanded to have her way with him? No, it was more likely that she was trying to get back at him for something—was trying to get him to strip down and then, when he was totally naked, she’d leave him there and laugh on her way out.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked.

  "The end of the joke," he said, raising his eyebrows.

  "I'm not joking. Take off your pants."

  "Are you sure you're not drunk?" He laughed.

  Seh sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, if it's so hard to believe, I'll go first."

  Then, incredibly, she reached behind her and started on her zipper. He listened to the gentle zip as it slid down and then the whoosh of flop of fabric as she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor.

  Then there she was. Shay Meyers in nothing but her bra and panties. Her hair nearly as mussed as the last time he'd laid her down and--

  "What happened to this never happening again?" he asked, though he was amazed he could bring himself to speak with the whole of her gorgeous body at his disposal. He bra was one of those push-up things that cinched in the middle with tiny gems beading the hem to show off just how supple the swell of her chest was.

  The clasp was in the middle, too.

  All he had to do was walk toward her and flick his wrist and she'd be all his. He could watch her pretty pink nipples tighten as he took each of them in his mouth and sucked...

  "Is now really the time for questions?" She asked, but she was half smiling. "Now, either take of
f your pants or I'm going to do it for you."

  "I'd like to see you try that." He smiled, but the grin died away as soon as she glanced down at his crotch and her tongue flicked across her upper lip.

  Jesus, she was really going to...

  But he didn't have time to think about what she was going to do. She was already doing it, walking toward him with those long legs of hers. So close that the wave of her perfume hit him full force and he breathed in deep, remembering how it had tasted on her skin.

  Like lavender and coconut. Soothing and sweet and--

  She sank to her knees in front of him and then, slowly, unbuckled his belt and whipped it off.

  "Give me that," he said.

  "Why?"

  He held out his hand and he tossed it on the bed behind him as she took his zipper between her teeth and undid it while she gripped his jeans and boxers in one and pulled them down until his length jutted out in front of her. Again, she licked her lips as she studied him, this time greedier than the last.

  "You're so big," she whispered, and he was about to reply when she took him in her hand with a firm grip and then circled his head with the tip of her tongue.

  As she went, she glanced up at him, her green eyes dilated to the point of nearly being black. A faint smile tilted her mouth, teasing and coy. Like she knew what he wanted. Like she knew exactly how this tormented him.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and she hummed her contentment, though she didn't take him into her mouth. Not yet.

  Instead, she licked his shaft, lapping him like an ice cream cone that was just about to drip onto the sidewalk. Up and down she went, slowly at first, then faster until her tits bounced along with the movement and he gripped her hair harder if only to maintain his composure.

  "Damn," He groaned, and that teasing smile lit her face again before she took one ball into her mouth and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around him over and over again.

  "Fucking shit," He ground out, and he was nearly to the point of demanding her mouth when she finally gave it to him. Not slowly and gently like everything else, but this time full and warm and wet. She took him in until she couldn't take any more, but he was too large for her and she worked the rest of him with her hand as she bobbed and sucked.