The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,58

I’d caught him doing a second ago. “A lot of these questions came from the fans. Like I told Chase, they can get kind of personal.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Does that mean I can move on?” I asked.

“Move on from the kilts? Go right ahead.”

“Okay, next question”—I was back on script now, even though I felt really uncomfortable asking him this—”do you have a girlfriend?”

Archer tilted his head. “You already know the answer to that.”

Sighing, I looked up and met his gaze. Gah, those gray eyes could swallow me whole if I let them. “It never hurts to be sure.”

“No,” he said. “I’m one-hundred percent single at the moment. Though that’s not necessarily by choice.”

Feeling my cheeks heat, I took my notes then quickly moved on. “Is there anyone you’re interested in?”

“Yeah, I am. But I’m not sure she’s into me.”

I scoffed. “She’d have to be crazy not to be.”

“Honor,” he said quietly.

Pretending that I didn’t hear the pleading tone, I asked him the next one. “Blondes, brunettes or reheads?”

“Brunette,” he said, taking a strand of my hair, before I slapped his hand away. “With natural light brown highlights.”

“Boxers or briefs?”

His voice deepened. “Whatever you like best.”

With a gulp, I asked another, “Can you describe your ideal woman?”

“I can do better than that,” he said. “Get out a mirror, and I’ll show you exactly what she looks like.”

Looking up, I caught his gaze just as he ran his knuckles along my cheek. The feel of them caused a shiver of pleasure to travel down my spine.

“Better yet, get out your phone, take a picture of yourself. Then send it to me, so I can keep it for whenever some other reporter asks me that question.”

“Archer,” I sighed.

“Yeah?” he said.

“You’re wasting your time on me.”

He just shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

With a sound of exasperation, I pulled away from him, while he continued to sit there calmly, staring at my face. “You don’t even know me! I’m not the girl you met at the party. Heck,” I threw my hands into the air, “I don’t even want to be a reporter. This is just for fun. I’m majoring in accounting to become a CPA. Totally boring, right? And I have so many issues. You have no idea.”

“Tell me then,” he said.

“I’m not just inexperienced. I-I’m afraid of relationships,” I said, deciding to lay it all out there. Archer deserved the truth, and for some reason, I couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming. “I have major abandonment issues. I don’t expect you to understand. You have a great family. But my dad left when I was young. And my mom, the way she attaches herself to men, the way she’s obsessed with their love, she basically gave up on me. It was abandonment, too, just in a different way.”

His mouth opened to interrupt, but I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“Guys never wanted me in high school either,” I went on. “I think it’s because I’m not normal and would rather hang out with book characters than real people—plus they knew I wouldn’t put out on the third date. So you see? Everyone gets tired of me eventually. And you will, too.” I shook my head. “I’m a lost cause, Archer. We can’t be together. No matter how much I want you.”

Taking a much-needed breath, I watched the emotions flit across Archer’s face: concern, sympathy…and then there was the one I hadn’t expected. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Archer began to smile. It started in his eyes, then his mouth bloomed into a full-on grin.

“What are you so happy about?” I asked.

“You want me,” he said.

I shook my head, not to deny it but because I was confused. He nodded anyway.

“Yeah, you do.” Archer’s eyes were alight. “You said so yourself. ‘No matter how much I want you.’”

Thinking back, I realized yes, I had in fact said that. But was it the only thing he heard?

“Don’t worry, I caught everything else you said, too. But I just want to live in those last words for a bit if you don’t mind.”

Before I could respond, I heard a ding from inside my bag.

“You should get that,” Archer said, tipping his chin toward the floor. “It’s been going off for the last half-hour.”

With a frown, I reached down, opened the bag and grabbed my phone. The screen lit up, and sure enough, there were five texts from Charlie. They started out simple.

Charlie: Hey girlie, just checking in on you (and all those hot