Crave (Billionaire Bachelors Club #1)(24)

“I’m sure.” The sarcasm is thick and I take another step away from her, surprised. “Archer, what happened between us last night . . .”

“Was a mistake. I totally agree.” I finish for her, needing to be the first one who said it.

Weird thing, though, is the look on her face when I did. Like I slapped her when she least expected it.

“A mistake,” she says slowly as she nods. “That’s what you think?”

“Absolutely. I mean, come on. We could never work. I don’t do relationships. You know this.” I sound far more confident than I feel. Maybe it’s because I always say this sort of thing to women, or really more to myself. I’ve never been in a relationship. I know I would fail at one. I would most definitely disappoint her. Ivy.

But secretly? I wish she would give me—give us—a chance.

“And I do.”

“You most definitely do,” I agree a little too quickly.

“And you’re yet another Humpty Dumpty.” She sighs.

“What?” Okay, that made no damn sense. Why is she calling me Humpty Dumpty?

“The kind of guy who’s all broken up and can’t be put back together again.” She smiles at me, but it’s sad and the sight of it makes me feel like a complete jerk. “I have a type. And I think you top my type list.”

“I’m on your type list?” I never believed Ivy had any sort of crush on me. Not beyond the push-pull-we-hate-each-other-maybe-we-should-tear-each-other’s-clothes-off thing we’ve been suffering through for years. Though I always figured that was more one-sided on my part.

“I never realized it until now. You’re so right. We could never work. I’m too nice. And you’re too . . . you.” She drops that bomb like it makes all the sense in the world.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I rub my palm against my chest, irritated with myself. I’m acting butt-hurt over a woman. This is crazy.

“Do I really need to explain myself, Archer?” She doesn’t let me answer. “Let’s go meet Gage. I need to get out of here.”

Without a word, I follow her out, trying to ignore the disappointment settling over me like a heavy wet blanket.

But I can’t. Her rejection, her words hurt far more than I care to admit. And I’m the one who rejected her first.

We’re quiet as we head back to the car, Gage waiting beside it with his arms crossed in front of him, tapping his foot impatiently. We all get inside, Ivy taking the back seat this time, and the mood is dark as I make the quick drive home.

They both hop out of my car as if they can’t wait to get away from me the moment I pull up in front of my house and I climb out, chasing after them.

“Sorry to be so abrupt, bro,” Gage tosses out apologetically as he yanks his keys out of his pocket and hits the remote, unlocking his car. “I have a client wanting to meet for dinner. He owns a piece of property I’ve been after for months and I think he’s finally going to cave.”

“I understand. You’ll have to call me when you make the deal.”

“Prepare for a call late tonight then.” Gage grins at me and I chuckle.

I get it. I’m a businessman. When an opportunity presents itself, you have to go for it, and that’s exactly what Gage is doing.

Sort of what I did with Ivy.

Sprinting ahead of her, I approach Gage’s Maserati and open the passenger door for her, watching as she slides into the seat. She glances up, her eyes fathomless as she studies me. “Thank you, Archer,” she murmurs. Then adds meaningfully, “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” I automatically say, though I’m not quite sure what we’re referring to.

Rolling her eyes, she huffs out a breath and yanks the door closed, effectively shutting me off.

Shutting me out.

And as I watch the car speed away, I feel like I’m watching my heart leave with it, forever in Ivy’s possession.

Fucking crazy, but true.

Chapter Eight

Ivy

One week later.

“AND SO YOU had sex with him.”

I nod miserably, trying to ignore the glee in my friend Wendy’s voice. She’s really enjoying my story—a little too much. “I did.”

“And it was awful. Terrible. He was selfish and didn’t bother getting you off.”

“Wendy,” I whisper harshly, glancing about the restaurant, at the people sitting nearby. Nobody’s paying us any mind. “What if someone heard you?”

“No one heard me. And quit trying to change the subject. Give me all the dirty details.” Wendy sips from her water glass, her brows raised expectantly.

I sigh, completely put out and embarrassed that she wants to hear everything, yet also perfectly willing to reveal all. I’ve had no one to talk to about my encounter with Archer and I’ve been holding this inside me for an entire week.

Then I see Wendy waiting for me at our usual restaurant for our Saturday lunch date, and I immediately tear up like a baby when she asked what’s new.

I reached my breaking point.

She took one look at my tear-streaked face, my watery eyes, and demanded I tell her what the heck was wrong with me. After purging the entire story of my encounter with Archer in twenty minutes, she’s contemplating me with a gleam in her eye, as if she sees me in a new light. She’s probably impressed—or in shock. I don’t normally do this sort of thing. Wendy’s the adventurous one with men. I’m the boring one who tends to choose wrong and stay too long.