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Tori paused halfway up the walk to Archer’s, to admire the view. Not the well-trimmed shrubs lining the path or the tulips growing under the window—she watched the show on the other side of the bay window, in the open space that had been a living room when the house was built, over one hundred years ago, but was now the main floor of his shop.
Every movement he made stretched or elongated a new group of muscles along his back, neck, and arms. He rearranged something under the counter while he talked to a girl, who seemed about fourteen or fifteen and as captivated by Archer as Tori was.
Tori had ignored the attraction for a long time, but it wouldn’t hurt to watch. They’d cleared the air, they both knew they didn’t like each other like that, and he really was nice to look at. Her schedule had kept them from getting together again since the escape to the mountains, almost a week ago, but they’d texted, and everything seemed cool between them. He was right; she really could do no-strings sex.
She stored the rambling thoughts and made her way to the shop entrance. The bell on the door chimed in greeting. She’d always thought that was a nice touch. A deceptively low-tech device, in a room wired with hidden cameras and alarms.
Archer looked up at the sound, and his customer took the excuse to study him again. Tori couldn’t help but smile. Poor girl had no idea that even if she were ten years older, he was so far from interested in a relationship, it wasn’t funny. An unfamiliar ache throbbed in Tori’s chest, and she ignored it.
He nodded her over. “I’m surprised you broke free of the house-arrest bracelet.”
“Why are you on house arrest?” The teenager’s eyes grew wide, and she finally looked at Tori, taking a step back as she did.
Tori twisted her mouth to the side. How was she supposed to respond to that?
Archer laughed. “I’m teasing her, because she works too hard.”
“Oh.” The girl didn’t look convinced. She continued to eye Tori warily, while leaning closer to Archer.
“This is Mara. Trigun.”
Mara cleared her throat—an exaggerated sound. “Sexy Trigun.”
Of course. Because a red, desert-and-battle-torn trench coat was a sexy thing. Tori was there to take measurements for that custom-costume order. She gave Mara a closer look. Close-cropped blonde hair, with streaks of pink. She was maybe an inch or two taller than Tori and had a slender build. Well, she had the body to pull the look off.
Tori extended her hand. “I’m Tori.”
Mara hesitated before returning the handshake. “And you make all the cosplays people wear?”
“I make a lot of them.”
“But have you done something like this before?”
Tori didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. She’d done sexy vampires, sexy zombies, and sexy androids. “Not specifically.”
“How do you plan to do this??”
Tori expected the question and welcomed it. It was a lot easier to work on a costume when the idea wasn’t fully formed in the client’s mind. Those who had a very specific image of what they wanted were usually disappointed by things like how gravity impacted clothing. Fortunately, Archer had warned her upfront what outfit was being requested, so she’d had time to think on the way over. “A fitted short skirt, strategically placed bandages on the chest, with a hidden zipper in back and a battered coat that hangs open enough to tease, but not enough to show anything inappropriate.”
Mara’s posture relaxed. She glanced at Archer. “What do you think?”
“I think you should trust the talented seamstress.”
“But do you think I’ll look good?”
“You’ll look fantastic.” Maybe Tori had misjudged her age. Maybe she was closer to thirteen or fourteen. Mara didn’t look at her, but instead kept her attention focused on Archer.
He shrugged. “Tori’s the best. If she says it will look good, you’ll knock the right guy’s eyeballs out.”
“Awesome. You need measurements, right?” Mara grinned, gripped the bottom of her T-shirt, and lifted.
Tori rested a hand on Mara’s, to keep her from stripping in the middle of the store. Archer’s, “Whoa,” overlapped with Tori’s, “Let’s maybe do this somewhere... not in front of the window.”
The words passed her lips and tugged a memory with them, searing her skin and making her pulse race. She met Archer’s gaze, and he raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his face.
Fortunately, Mara had already turned away with an exaggerated, “I guess.”
A few minutes later, down-payment in pocket, and girl assured again she’d look sexy, Tori emerged from the back room. Normally she didn’t have to be so precise with measurements, but for something as fitted as what Mara wanted, she’d need to know exactly how tight she could make the fake bandages.
Mara practically skipped out the front door, waving to Archer and promising to be back soon—just to visit. Archer’s goodbye wave was stiff, and his smile off. At least he had the good sense to be embarrassed about a young girl hitting on him.
And then Tori noticed someone else was there. She was surprised to see Elliot. “I know it hasn’t been a month since you were in here last.”
“Actually, I was looking for you.” He rubbed the back of his head, not meeting her gaze. “I’m in town to talk to someone else, and I saw your car out front.”
He knew which car was hers? Something slapped against the glass counter, echoing through the room and startling her. She whirled toward the sound.
“Sorry.” Archer gave an apologetic shrug as he shifted a pile of books into a neat stack.
“No worries.” She turned back to Elliot. “What’s up?”
He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
“I... uh...” She snapped her jaw shut to keep it from dropping open. She hadn’t expected this. Did she think of Elliot as dating material? She resisted the urge to look at Archer; it wasn’t as if they were a couple. No strings, he was still rebounding from Riley, and all that. Instead, she tried to be subtle about looking over Elliot. She’d never noticed before, but he was kind of cute. Curious brown eyes hid behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and straight black hair accentuated his slender face.
Shit. She was taking too long to respond. There was no reason not to go, right? “Sure.” She focused on making her smile genuine. “Sounds great.”
A loud bang bounced off the walls, followed by the clatter of glass, metal, and plastic, striking glass. She jumped and whirled to face Archer again. He was kneeling next to the display case, and half the things inside had tumbled and fallen on top of each other.
“Oops.” His expression was as flat as his voice.
Was he reacting to the conversation? She pushed the tiny voice aside. There was no reason to project her insecurities on him. At the most, he might be worried she’d sour things with his distributor. She’d make sure Elliot knew that whatever happened between them had nothing to do with Archer or his business.
* * * *
TORI PICKED AT HER chicken. She was having a lot of fun talking to Elliot, but with every passing moment, it became clearer why she’d been so surprised at the dinner invitation. There was zero spark between them.
He set his fork down without making a sound, pulled the cloth napkin from his knee, and fidgeted with it for a moment, before returning it to its spot. “If you two are a thing, you could have told me no without offending me. The truth would sting but I’d live.”
For the second time that night, he’d caught her off guard. “I’m sorry, us two...?”
“You and Archer.”
“We’re not a thing.”
“You’re sure?” His brows rose past the tops of his glasses.
She was so sure, it ached. No. Wait. It didn’t hurt at all. “I’m positive. Even if I were interested, he’s still coping with what happened with Riley. Everyone knows that.”
He snorted, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t find that amusing.”
“It’s okay, but I don’t get the joke.”
He leaned forward. “You’ve known them all for what? Four years?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ve worked with Archer almost since he opened the place, eight years ago,” Elliot said. “And I know a lot of people look at me and think comic geek, but no one survives this long in sales, without being able to read people at least a little bit.”
“Okay...?”
“The whole twisted-love-triangle thing has been going on since before Zane enlisted. Between you and me, I’d bet my commission Archer means it when he says he’s over Riley. He just hates that she was the one who left, and he’s spinning his wheels, blaming himself for it.”
“Archer’s not like that.”
He twisted his mouth in disbelief. “You spend more time with him than I do.”
“Exactly.” Was it true? No. It couldn’t be. Not that it mattered; she wasn’t interested anyway.
He turned his attention back to his half-eaten steak. “Speaking of Archer, since you and I obviously aren’t going anywhere, give me an excuse to write dinner off instead?”
Her skin crawled at the implication. At least she knew now he had a different expectation at the end of dinner than she did. At this point, she was tempted to cut the conversation short and call a cab. He implied she led him on, gossiped about her friends, and then asked for a way get his money’s worth for dinner if she wasn’t putting out. “I can’t make decisions on his behalf. I’m simply another customer.”
“Right. Of course. But you’re not. You’re a brilliant costume designer.”
If he hadn’t already soured the evening, the compliment would have warmed her. “Thanks.”
“And I still think you should be doing it full time.”
“I already do.” She was bordering on the edge of a mild confrontation, and she wasn’t interested in that at all.
“Technically. Right. But here’s the thing—we have a sponsorship option we’re going to implement with different shops.”
“How’s that work then?”
“We don’t ask for exclusivity or anything. Basically, we pay Archer and shops like his a set amount every month, and in return, he gives our books, posters—whatever we send him—high-visibility spots in his store.”
Cool. Archer didn’t like to ask for help, but this was payment for services, not charity. It sounded too easy, though. “That’s neat and all, but how does it involve me?” she asked.
“I think the offer would be more valuable all around if we could loop you in.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”
He chuckled. “It’s easy. We’d ask you to provide a different outfit from one of our books every week—you pick the outfit, and we pay your standard rate—and it gets displayed in his shop. Sell it when the week is up. Do whatever you want with it. We’d pay him a little more, and you extra for your time as well.”
Her heart jumped and her brain screamed that it sounded brilliant. A chance to do more of what she chose. “I don’t know how that would be cost effective for you.” Not what she meant to say. Damn it, her business oriented side kicked in.
“Trust me, the numbers work. All I need from you, besides the desire to do this, is to work whatever sexy magic you can on Archer, and get him to sign on as well.”
Something about his tone and posture poured a layer of slime over her hope. She tried to shake the feeling, but it sank in. “I’ll talk to Archer.” As long as she could get past the way he reacted last time she tried to talk business with him. On top of that, could she suck him into something that didn’t sit right with her to begin with?
“Right. Sure you will.”