Comeback (The Holland Brothers Book 3)

“Aunt Brina, this place is not very clean.” Greer’s adorable face scrunches up as she looks around my studio.

It’s not that different than the face her mom made the first time she saw this place, but I am not deterred. I can see the potential.

“No, it’s not,” I tell her. Greer is five and has no problem speaking her opinion on all things. She hates bananas, bedtime, and bugs with equal measure.

“That’s why we have to clean it up. So people will come and dance with us.” I find an extra broom and twirl in a circle before handing it to her.

She giggles and spins the same way I did. Her blonde ringlets bounce around her shoulders as she comes to a stop, grinning so wide I can see every single one of her teeth.

“We’re going to need a lot more than a couple brooms.” Olivia blows out a breath that puffs out her cheeks, but like the true friend that she is, pulls out her phone and starts some music for us before jumping in to help.

I am not blind to the amount of work that needs to be done in here, but I truly can see it all cleaned up and full of life again. And more importantly, I can see myself here. I always wanted to live and work in an area with a lot of people and things happening. I can grab coffee across the street and lunch at the pizza place or grab a drink at the bar a block away after the day is done. I want this. I’ve wanted it for a long time and now that it’s finally happening, a little dirt (okay, fine, a lot of dirt) isn’t going to scare me away.

Olivia and Greer stay until dinnertime. We make some good progress on cleaning the front windows, but it’s like every step shows just how bad everything else is.

“Do you want to come over for pizza night?” Olivia asks.

My stomach growls, but I shake my head. “Thank you, but I want to stay a little while longer while I still have light.”

“When does the electrician come?” She grabs her purse and hooks it over one shoulder.

“Next week.” I hold up my fingers and cross my middle finger over my pointer finger. “Hopefully the weather stays bearable until then.”

We’re having an unseasonably cool few days, and that mixed with a couple fans blowing air are the only reason it’s not scorching hot in here.

Olivia mimics my motion, crossing fingers on both hands. Greer does too. As soon as they’re gone, I miss the company, but I get back to work.

Aside from the front windows being cleaned, the main room is swept and I’ve washed one wall. Can I just paint over the dirt? I’m not sure, but I add it to the list of things I need to google later. When the sun is setting and I have to seriously pee (I haven’t braved the bathroom yet for fear of the animals living there), I head home.

My chest is tight as I walk into the apartment and my breathing is a little shallow. I may need to start wearing a mask while I’m there so my asthma doesn’t flair up. Archer’s music vibrates the floor, but I don’t hear or see him or my other roommates.

I head straight for the shower to rinse off the grime and sweat, and then get dressed for work at Lilac Lounge.

Exhaustion has seeped into my bones. I so wish I didn’t have to go tonight. The hangover this morning combined with being on my feet all day at the studio, pretty much ensures I’m going to be a zombie by the time my shift is over.

At first glance, the living room is also empty but then a grunt of noise catches my attention. I peer over the couch to see Archer on the floor doing sit-ups. Shirtless.

“Holy mother of—” I slap a hand over my mouth in time to keep whatever inside thoughts were about to slip out. But I can’t seem to stop myself from gawking at his chiseled torso. His abs ripple with the movement, showing off every one of the six—nope make that eight—packs of muscle.

He slows when he sees me but doesn’t stop until he finishes a few more. Archer wipes his brow with the back of his wrist and then rests his elbows on his bent knees.

I am still gawking.

With only a pair of black shorts on, he somehow looks bigger than normal. I think it’s all that broad muscle on display. It’s intimidating, but not so much so that I’m not imagining what it’d be like to run my palms down his chest and stomach like he’s my own personal plaything.

“Everything okay?” he asks. A slow smile tips up the corner of his lips.

“Yep!” I chirp too fast and too high-pitched, finally tearing my gaze away from him. My cheeks flame. I don’t think there’s any playing off the fact I was just very much checking him out. I think it must be a reaction to him saying I was hot last night. Which is what I will claim if interrogated. He brought it up and now I can’t look at him and not think about it.

Turning on my heel, I head into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich before work. I pull out the bread and peanut butter in a haze.

How are his ab muscles real? I’ve been an athlete my entire life and my stomach doesn’t look like that. I also don’t do sit-ups basically ever so there’s that.

I’m opening the refrigerator and searching for the jelly when I hear him moving behind me. Then I feel his presence.

Hand still on the door of the fridge, I glance back. He’s standing a foot away, sweaty and still shirtless. And unfortunately, still hot.

“Did you need something?” I ask. I’m very proud of myself when I manage to hold eye contact. I cannot give him the satisfaction of checking him out again.

He points into the fridge, and when I just stand there, he steps forward. Instinctively, I move out of his way, but there’s not a lot of room, so he’s still all up in my space as he digs in the refrigerator. His back has muscles that I didn’t realize existed and I’m eye-level with the tattoo on his left shoulder. The flowers are roses. I’m also able to pick out a football, the number eighteen, and a bow and arrow.

I also notice another tattoo on the inside of his right arm that I hadn’t before. There are five circles and only the fourth one is colored in with black ink. I’ve seen it before. Brogan has something similar in the same spot.

Archer steps back and holds up the Gatorade as if showing me proof he really needed something. And then extends his other hand toward me with the jelly I’d been searching for.

“Thanks.”

He nods and moves out of the way.

Archer takes a seat on one of the stools in front of the island. I can feel his eyes on me as I make my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. There isn’t a sexy way to eat a sandwich. Not that I care about being sexy for Archer.

“How was the hangover this morning?” he asks as the front door opens.

I glance over in time to see Brogan and London walk into the apartment.

“Hey!” I smile at my brother and his fiancée, relieved to see them. Archer and I alone together is painful. Which reminds me I didn’t answer him. I look back to Archer. “It was rough. I’m thankful I took some Advil before bed.”

“Hey.” Brogan slides onto a chair next to Archer, but looks to me as he says, “I heard you tried to keep up with Tripp last night at the bar.”

“Tried and failed.” I take a bite out of my sandwich.

My brother laughs softly. “Someone should have warned you. The guy can drink.”

“I did warn her. She didn’t listen.” Archer’s gaze burns into me.

“I was celebrating,” I say defensively and then smile as I glance to Brogan. “I found a place for my studio yesterday.”

“No way!” Brogan’s excitement is exactly what I expected. His mouth pulls into a big smile and his eyes light up. He gets to his feet and holds out his long arms, walking toward me.

I walk into his hug and he wraps me up, bouncing a little before he lets me go.

“That’s incredible news. I wish I’d known.” He turns a very pointed glare at Archer.

“He didn’t know,” I tell Brogan.

A crease forms between his brows as he looks between me and Archer but then he nods. “We need to celebrate.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is so necessary,” London interjects. “Plus, he’ll use any excuse to throw a party.”

She points a finger toward my brother who just grins.

“Well, it’ll have to be another night because I have work.” Which I’m now going to be late for if I don’t hurry.

“We have a game tomorrow, but maybe Monday night?” Brogan asks.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“You’re still coming with me tomorrow, right?” London smiles. She lowers her voice like she’s telling me a secret as she adds, “If you don’t come, Brogan is going to be very sad.”

“I only want her to come if she wants to come,” he says but then looks at me with a pleading expression.

“I’m definitely coming, and I’d love to go with you.” When she offered, I wasn’t sure if she was just being nice or if she really wanted me to sit with her. She often brings her own friends with her to watch, so she doesn’t strictly need me to have someone to sit with during the game.

“Yeah. It’s going to be so much fun.”

“Great,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow then.” I take my sandwich with me toward the door. Guess I’m eating on the drive to work.