The theme song of her life.

  She went to pull out her phone to call an Uber and then remembered she’d handed her cell to Spence to hold for her during the distraction. Spence, who was in all likelihood still sitting at the bar. “Dammit.” She headed back across the courtyard and let herself into the pub again.

  Spence was indeed at the far right side of the bar, at the area Finn always held open for their gang. But that wasn’t what caught and held her attention. Nope, that honor went to the other side where Archer sat talking to some beautiful woman who was clearly coming on to him, leaning in, a perfectly manicured hand on his biceps. She was smiling with lots of white, straight teeth, her hair carefully tousled in a way that said it was possible she’d just gotten out of bed and wasn’t all that opposed to going back.

  Rolling her eyes, Elle headed toward Spence. Pru was with him, as were Willa and Haley. Willa ran South Bark, a one-stop pet shop across the courtyard from the pub. Haley worked at the second-floor optometrist’s office and was currently single, but she and one of Finn’s waitresses had been flirting for several weeks now and everyone had fingers crossed that it’d turn into something good.

  Spence slid Elle’s phone across the bar top toward her and then, when he caught the look on her face, passed his glass over as well.

  “Jameson?” she asked.

  “Only the best for you,” he said, watching with quiet amusement as she tossed it back and then coughed. “Easy, tiger.”

  Turning her back on the sight of Archer and the woman, the both of them flirting freely now, she nodded a thanks to Finn, who brought her another drink.

  “She came on to him if it helps any,” Willa said, always the peacemaker of the group. Willa had the heart of a saint.

  Elle did not. “I couldn’t care less.”

  “Uh-huh,” Spence said.

  Why were all men assholes? “You know what?” she asked, setting her glass down. “I’m out.”

  “Aw, come on.” Spence grabbed her hand. “Stay. I’ll even let you try to kick my ass in darts.”

  She pointed at him. “I own you in darts. But no. Not tonight.”

  “It’s only ten o’clock.”

  “I have to get up early for class and work.”

  “Adulting means you get to do whatever you want,” Spence said.

  He only said that because he’d sold his start-up two years back for an undisclosed sum, a.k.a. big bucks, and he no longer had to be on the hamster wheel. Instead he bought shit to amuse himself—like this building—and did whatever suited him, which lately had been walking dogs for Willa’s shop. Elle knew he only did so because women were suckers for a man walking their pet. “No, adulting is like”—she searched for the right words—“looking both ways before you cross the street and then getting hit by an airplane.”

  He laughed and she started to walk off, but at the last minute she couldn’t help herself. She once again glanced at the other end of the bar where Archer and the woman sat laughing, and she knew she wasn’t smart enough to “go easy” on him or leave well enough alone.

  “Elle,” Willa said from behind her. “Honey, maybe whatever you’re planning isn’t a great idea.”

  No kidding. “I’m not planning anything,” she said. “I’m being . . . spontaneous.”

  “But you’re never spontaneous,” Pru said. “You make a Pinterest board before you change your lip gloss color.”

  Dammit. True story. “Hey, that was a secret board that I let you on because you wanted to compare colors. And I know what I’m doing here.”

  “But do you really though?” Spence asked.

  Ignoring them, Elle headed toward Archer, unsure of exactly what was bothering her so much about the way he was letting that woman come on to him. Okay, that was a lie. She knew exactly what was bothering her and it was the fact that he never flirted with her. Absurd. Ridiculous. Asinine . . .

  And yet did she stop? No, she did not. She kept heading right for them, leaning in between them to pat Archer on the shoulder. “Hey, nice to see you out and about,” she said, all friendly-like. “Your full body rash must be all cleared up then . . . ?” She trailed off, letting her gaze run over him from head to toe, lingering quite by accident on his crotch because as it turned out, Trudy was right. He did indeed have an impressive-looking package.

  Archer gave a slow shake of his head, a small almost smile playing about his lips. “Nice to see you, Candy,” he said calmly, the jackass.

  She sent him an eat-shit-and-die look, and in return he smiled a full two hundred watts.

  Damn him. She wished she’d said cock rot instead of rash. Rash wasn’t bad enough. With her fuse fully lit now, she turned on her heel and stormed out into the night. Ignoring the chill, she got an Uber and headed home, which was one side of a postage-stamp-sized duplex in Russian Hill.

  She loved her place almost more than she loved her shoes, even if she couldn’t turn around in it without bumping her elbows on the walls. It was cozy, quaint, warm . . . everything her life had never been before.

  She made herself some hot tea and sat at her tiny kitchen table in her tiny kitchen and stayed up late into the night doing homework for her two accounting classes.

  And absolutely not thinking about one irritating, infuriating, smug, arrogant Archer Hunt.

  Chapter 4

  #OffTheDeepEnd

  Archer lived in an old converted warehouse in the Marina. He had a gym on the ground floor and in the early mornings he always hit that first, beating the crap out of a punching bag. He did this to keep his body in lean, mean, fighting shape. He also did it to clear his mind.

  But his mind wasn’t having it today.

  Elle had kept his knife. She literally carried a piece of him around with her wherever she went and he had no idea what to make of that. Especially in the day since she’d done her best to ignore him. And when she wasn’t ignoring him, she was treating him like a bug on her windshield.

  He got it. She deserved far better than he could ever come up with. And plus no way would he ever risk her being with him because she felt she owed him. So he’d put up walls, trying to be disciplined when it came to her. For her sake.

  But she’d kept his knife . . .

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an agate worry stone. The very one she’d given him in return for the knife in that run-down park the night when everything had gone to shit for the both of them. Pounding the punching bag until his muscles quivered pleasantly, he reminded himself that Elle had changed.

  They’d both changed.

  And neither was interested in going back. Convinced of that, he showered and headed to work.

  The morning’s light was just hitting the courtyard of the Pacific Pier Building as he walked through. The cobblestones beneath his feet glinted from the middle of the night’s light mist. Heading past the fountain, he took the stairs to his second-floor office but instead of turning right at the top, he went left.

  And ended up in front of the door that read Elle Wheaton, General Manager.

  Spence came out of her office and went brows up at the sight of him.

  And the weirdest thing happened. Archer’s gut tightened and a seed of some unnamed emotion barreled through him.

  He’d been the one who’d talked Spence into hiring Elle for the job. But then something unexpected had happened—over the past year she and Spence had become unexpectedly tight.

  While she’d kept her distance from Archer.

  He had no business giving a single shit about it but he did. It was a hell of a thing to realize he was actually jealous. It pissed him off that he felt that way, but it was fact. He was pretty sure if anything was going to happen between Elle and Spence that it would’ve already happened, but ridiculously he still felt bitten by the green monster.

  “What’s up?” Spence asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Spence looked him over for a long beat and then smiled. “She’s eating you up and spitting you out.”

  “Bullshit,” Archer said, and then he paused. “But if she was, why is that amusing?”

  Spence clapped him on the shoulder. “Going to be fun to watch, that’s all.”

  “What’s going to be fun to watch?”

  “You on your ass.” And with that enigmatic statement, Spence walked off, hands in his pockets, still looking vastly amused, the fucker.

  Archer shook it off and reached for Elle’s office door. It was locked, but given that Spence had just come out, she was obviously in there. She was always in this early. She was one of the hardest working people he knew. He wasn’t sure what her endgame was but he suspected world domination, and to get there she took online college classes from six to eight a.m. several mornings a week. She came here to do them because her Internet at home was unreliable.

  She’d be furious to hear just how much he knew about her, not that he ever intended to tell her. After all, he valued his life. “Elle,” he said with a knock on the door.

  Nothing.

  She was being cautious after last night’s stunt at the bar. Smart woman. But it didn’t matter. As head of the building’s security, he had keys to everything, although he didn’t pull them out now because he wasn’t stupid.

  Elle was on the other side of that door. He could hear her breathing and chances were she’d shoot him on sight if he let himself in. After the “body rash” thing, he was feeling the same desire in return, except his weapon of choice would be his hands. He’d put them around her pretty throat and squeeze.

  This wasn’t a new urge, but he could resist.

  Just as he’d resisted his other more troubling urge—to haul her into him and kiss them both stupid. Or at least more stupid than he was in this very moment.

  That wasn’t a new feeling either but he had no intention of following it through. On either.

  “What do you want?” she asked through the door.

  “Should I give you the long or the short list?”

  Nothing but a loaded silence.

  “You,” he said. “You’re my problem.”

  “You’re mad about last night.”

  “You mean when you implied to everyone in the pub that I had a sexually transmitted disease?”

  There was a gasp behind him. He turned and found Trudy standing there with her ever present cleaning cart. Her gaze dropped to his crotch and he barely resisted the urge to cup himself.

  “The clinic on Post is really good,” the woman actually whispered to him. “And, um . . . discreet.”

  Archer heard Elle snort and ground his teeth together. “It’s a joke,” he said.

  “Sure it is, honey.” Trudy patted him on the arm sympathetically. “I gotta say though, my fantasy life just took a big hit.” And then she rolled off with her cart.

  Archer turned back to the still closed door.

  “For the record,” Elle said through it, sounding like she might be laughing. “I never said sexually transmitted anything. Not that I’m surprised your mind went there.”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deep for calm.

  No calm came.

  “Fine,” Elle said. “I suck at apologies, but I suppose I could’ve handled last night better.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “You suck at apologies.”

  He could almost feel her smile. He felt when it faded too as well as her hesitation to open the door. She had good reason for that.

  “You know you’re going to pay,” he said softly. “Right?”

  “What are you going to do? Cuff me and drag me off to the pub to announce that I was just messing with you?”

  He nearly said If I were to cuff you, babe, the pub would be the last place I’d take you . . . but he kept his big trap shut tight. No need to muddy the waters with his own confusing emotions since they weren’t going to ever go there. “You can’t hide forever, Elle. I will find you.”

  A small thump sounded and then came a muffled oath. “Dammit, you made me spill my tea!”

  For some reason this improved his mood greatly, and with his first smile of the morning, he turned and headed to his office.

  “Hey, boss.” Mollie, his receptionist and also Joe’s baby sister, waved cheerfully at him. “Just dumped a bunch of stuff on your desk including yesterday’s mail, which you never opened.”

  Archer was good at solving mysteries and rooting out the asshats and the douches of the world. Real good. But he wasn’t all that into the paperwork that went with it.

  He strode into his office and eyeballed the pile on his desk like it was a ticking bomb. On top of the stack sat a small, neat envelope with writing he unfortunately recognized. Picking it up, he felt the change in air pressure, like maybe his police captain father was suddenly standing right here in the room watching him.

  Judging him.

  The urge to stand up straighter and salute irritated the shit out of him.

  “It’s an invite to a retirement party,” Mollie said, coming into the office behind him to set some more paperwork on his desk.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. “How do you know?”

  She shrugged. “It’s your second invite. You must’ve not answered the first and when they sent another, I got curious.”

  “You opened my mail?”

  “It’s my job,” she said. “He added a note this time. It says ‘get your ass home.’”

  Archer tossed the envelope to his desk and strode to his corner windows. He’d chosen this office because from here he could see the courtyard and also the street. He liked to have all angles open. A bonus was that beyond the streets of Cow Hollow down the hill, he could see straight to the bay.

  “You want me to RSVP for you?” Mollie asked.

  “The phone’s ringing.”

  “Oh!” She froze, ear cocked. “Oh shit, you’re right!” And with that, she rushed out of the room.

  Archer tossed the invite into the trash can.

  When a second set of heels clicked into the room, he craned his neck, watching as Elle walked to the trash can and scooped out the invite, homing in on it like a beacon. Given that she did some side work for him with decent frequency, she wasn’t a stranger to his office. In fact, she made herself at home with a ’tude that spurred on his. “Feeling brave?” he asked.

  “Your dad’s retiring next month?” she asked, reading the invite.

  He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to bash his head against the window. “Why do you always answer a question with another question?”

  “You should go to this,” she said softly, lifting her gaze to his.

  Archer was pretty sure that was a very bad idea. He hadn’t been home much. It was easier to stay away. Eleven years ago he’d been a rookie fast-tracked cop on a joint task force. When it’d all gone bad and he’d had the blink of an eye to jeopardize the entire sting to get a girl out safely, he hadn’t hesitated.

  This hadn’t been out of character for him. He’d always followed his own inner moral code on what he thought was right and wrong. The problem was that those codes didn’t always line up exactly with the letter of the law.

  The girl had been underage, trying to return something her sister had stolen. Not that it mattered. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time—which was not to say she’d been unaware of the danger she’d put herself in. She’d known. And she’d done it anyway. And it had been that show of bravery and loyalty and desperation to do the right thing that had gone straight to Archer’s heart.

  Yeah. He’d still had one back then.

  He’d met Elle’s eyes. They were the same baby blue as they’d been that night. Deep and filled with secrets.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” she asked.

  “Christmas. We had dinner.”

  She nodded. “And the time before that?”

  Stubborn as hell to the end, like a terrier on a bone. “The Christmas before that,” he admitted.

  She didn’t chastise him. She didn’t judge. She just nodded, her gaze hooded now. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  “No need.”

  She shook her head. “It’s sweet of you to try to shield me but I know it’s my fault.”

  This caught him completely off guard, something else only she tended to accomplish with any regularity. “Two things,” he said. “One, I’m not sweet. I don’t have a single sweet bone in my body. And two, this is not your fault. It’s mine.”

  She just stared at him, holding his gaze prisoner in her own. He knew she believed herself to be a fortress. Locked up tight, never giving herself away.

  But he also knew her, maybe better than anyone else, which meant he’d catalogued her tells a long time ago. She was worried about him, which for the record he hated. “Look, just forget about it, okay?”

  “If you promise to go to the retirement party,” she said.

  Had he just likened her to a terrier? Make it a pit bull.

  “Promise me,” she said softly.

  He was human. He made mistakes. But he tried very hard to not repeat any of those mistakes. And yet he kept looking right into her eyes and falling into them. Every time.

  “Archer.”

  He knew she wouldn’t give up or shut up until he agreed, so it might as well be on his terms. “Fine. If you promise to not talk about it again, I’ll go.”

  She gave a slow nod and turned and walked out of his office.

  “Hey,” he called after her. “You never said what you wanted.”

  “Since you made me spill my tea, I came for some of the coffee Mollie makes you guys every morning.”

  Shaking his head, he turned back to the windows but he didn’t see the view. He saw the events of that long-ago night flipping through his brain like a slide show—specifically what had happened after the bust had gone bad. Elle, huddled into herself in torn clothes, bleeding from various scrapes and cuts, eyes flashing with false bravado, body trembling. She’d run further into that run-down park and he’d really had to work at finding her.

  She’d been on a swing, sitting very still. Very alone.

  He’d told himself he’d done enough just letting her escape the scene, that he needed to walk away, but he couldn’t, even though his own ass had been toast in a very large way. After all, he’d just detonated his entire life and yet there he stood worrying about the girl who’d been the accelerant on the fire he’d bombed his career with.