Stripped Love (Guys Next Door #1) - Baylin Crow Page 0,15
space of minutes with Archer, the need to write took root.
Would it be weird if I invited him over and just asked him to talk while I wrote? Probably.
"I need to go throw my covers in the dryer or I won't have anything to sleep with." His nose crinkled. "Don't fall asleep while eating cookies and cream ice cream cake, even if it’s your favorite food in the world. Nothing good comes from it."
My grin grew until my cheeks hurt. "Sound advice."
He smiled back. "Bye, Phoenix."
I nodded as I studied him in the moonlight with lyrics burning at my fingertips. I was torn between wanting to ask him to stay and writing the words before I lost them. Quietly, I watched him turn away.
As soon as the door closed behind him, I rushed back to the patio and grabbed my pencil and notebook. The chair squeaked beneath my weight as I leaned back. Picturing Archer and remembering his laugh, I scribbled a quick line.
'All of your unknowns already forgiven, you're a breath of fresh air from which my hopes have arisen.'
4
Archer
With the windows rolled down, my uncle's old muscle car roared down the highway, rock music blaring from the speakers until we reached the Atlanta downtown area and slowed for traffic. Hair pulled back in a low ponytail, my uncle pounded on the steering wheel in time with the drums. His car drew a lot of attention, and I caught more than a few smiles at his antics.
"Sing it with me, Arch," he demanded as he belted out the words to a song I'd never even heard.
"I don't know the words." Not that I'd sing them if I did. No one wanted to hear that. But you'd have thought the world ended by the horrified look he gave me when he lowered the volume.
"Forgive me, nephew. I've failed you and I'm sorry for that." He pretended to wipe tears away and sniffed. "I'll fix that blunder this summer, I promise."
"Will there be a test?" I asked with a flat tone.
He side-eyed me as he exited the highway. "You know, kid, sometimes I can't tell if you're joking or serious."
I snorted. "I should probably be offended. That was my best joke in months."
He barked a laugh. "It was probably your only joke in months."
Okay, he had a point. Humor wasn't my strong suit.
My thoughts drifted to the night before with Phoenix. He brought out a playful side of me I wasn't sure I even knew I had. It made me grin to myself.
What I assumed was his car, a silver, older style Camaro, had been parked outside when my uncle and I left. I'd glanced at his house, hoping to catch a glimpse of him but hadn't.
"What are you smiling about over there? Damned pleased with yourself, aren't ya?" Uncle Isaac stuck his elbow on the window seal as he navigated the inner streets of the city. "So this old man has two jobs this summer. One, make sure my nephew is well versed in all things rock music. And two, teach him how to tell a fucking joke."
Isaac's hand went straight to my hair, ruffling it as always. It was probably the reason I'd never taken to really fixing it when I was younger. He would just mess it up. And anyway, Phoenix thought I was funny, or at least he seemed to. My lips twisted to the side as a sliver of doubt crept in. Maybe he'd just been trying to appease me.
A horn blared somewhere close in the stop-and-go traffic, startling me out of the thought and I looked around. People crowded the sidewalks and sat on open patios of bistros under the shade of umbrellas and awnings. The scent of exhaust fumes mingled with various scents coming from the many bakeries and restaurants still serving breakfast in the late morning. Police sirens echoed in the distance, and a baby cried from a stroller being pushed down the sidewalk next to my window.
"I love this city," my uncle grumbled. "But the traffic is a nightmare."
I agreed. A few blocks down, he drove behind a familiar stretch of shops, parking close to a rear door with a vibrant mural of a scantily clad woman, blood dripping from her mouth and diamond jewelry sparkling from her neck and ears. She was surrounded by skeletons in suits kneeling at her feet in place of the once dingy white brick wall.