Archer wanted to defend those poor women his brother had just disparaged, but sadly he happened to agree. The women he’d brought home in the past had been exactly as Tom described and not a patch on Callie.
‘She’s not real, is she? You’ve made her up so Mum won’t go into her speed-dating frenzy in an effort to have you settle for a local girl rather than those city girls.’
Archer chuckled at Tom’s imitation of their mum, who made those city girls sound as if he was dating a brothel’s inhabitants.
Tom had followed him into the kitchen, and Archer handed him a beer while uncapping another for Trav and popping an orange soda tab for Izzy.
‘She’s real. And you’ll get to meet her at the wedding like everyone else.’
He held up his beer bottle and Tom clinked it. ‘Sure she hasn’t got two heads?’
Archer smirked. ‘Trust me, Callie’s pretty great—’
‘Callie? The Callie?’
Tom lowered his beer and stared at him with blatant curiosity as Archer silently cursed his slip of the tongue.
He’d had no intention of telling anyone her name until the wedding—let alone Tom, the only Flett who knew how close he’d come to giving up his dream for her.
He’d blurted it out after Tom’s divorce had been finalised, sitting on his deck four years ago. That had been one hell of a night. Tom had been miserable, Trav had been blind drunk and clueless how to handle the situation, and Archer had felt like an outcast. The three of them had been in a foul mood and it had almost come to blows. Archer had tussled with Tom and that release of steam and testosterone had opened up a narrow pathway to the truth.
Tom and Trav had told him about dad then—how he’d sworn them to secrecy, how they’d hated keeping it from him but hadn’t wanted to stress the seriously ill Frank.
He guessed he understood their logic—who knew? He might have done the same—but it didn’t make it any easier to handle when he still didn’t know why he’d been the odd man out.
With the air somewhat cleared between them, talk had moved on to Tom’s divorce, and Archer had sunk beers in commiseration, alternating between being outraged and bitter on behalf of his brother, who’d done the right thing by marrying the girl he’d got pregnant and yet got screwed over anyway, and determination never to end up like him.
Tom had been morose, berating himself for losing his head over a woman, and Archer had made the mistake of opening up about Callie to make him feel better.
‘You’re not the only one. We all get sucked in by a memorable female now and then.’
That confession under the onslaught of too many lagers had now come back to bite him on the butt.
He forced a laugh, aiming for casual. ‘Turns out my online marketing manager is Callie. Had no idea ’til we met in Melbourne to tee up the surf school campaign. She’s here to work for the week—made sense she came to the wedding as my date. Nothing more to it.’
Archer took a slug of beer after his spiel, wondering who he was trying to convince—himself or Tom.
Yesterday had been tough. Hell, it had been sheer torture, watching Callie come alive as she sketched out ideas, seeing her glow as he approved an early pro forma, seeing glimpses of the vibrant woman he’d once lost his head over many years ago.
Sadly she reserved her enthusiasm for work only. Following that impulsive kiss on the beach she’d reverted to coolly polite and casually friendly.
She might have ditched her initial antagonism, but an invisible barrier between them was still there—one he had no hope of breaching considering how things had ended between them.
Correction: how he’d ended things between them.
He didn’t blame her for being wary. But late last night, with the woman he’d once been crazy for sleeping in the room next door and insomnia plaguing him, he’d wished they could recapture half the easy-going camaraderie they’d once shared.
He only had a week to get this surf school campaign up and running before he flew out to Hawaii for Christmas Day, so realistically he couldn’t afford to stuff around.
He knew what he was doing. Flirting with her as a deliberate tactic to distract himself from the stress of being home and having to deal with his family. It was a distancing technique he’d honed with other dates before her. But none had affected him as much as Callie.
He’d deliberately kept things between them light-hearted and work-focussed, but what would happen if he ratcheted up the heat? Would she release some of that new reserve she carried around like an invisible cloak and resurrect the passion they’d once shared?
Tom pointed his beer in Archer’s direction. ‘The fact she’s the first woman you’ve ever brought here speaks volumes.’
‘It was convenient for work, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that.’
Or course Callie chose that moment to hustle through the back door, wind-tousled and pink-cheeked and utterly delectable.
‘Hey, Arch, there’s a car out front—’ She caught sight of Tom and stopped, her eyes widening, before she crossed the kitchen and held out her hand. ‘You’re a much better-looking version of Archer, so you must be a Flett too.’
Tom laughed as he shook her hand. ‘I like her already,’ he said, while Archer shot him a filthy look.
‘Callie, meet my older brother, Tom.’
A playful smile teased the corners of her mouth as she glanced up at Tom—a smile she hadn’t shot him once since they’d arrived.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
Something painful twisted in his chest at the way she lit up in the way she’d once used to light up around him.
‘Come meet his daughter—and Trav, the groom.’
Tom’s goofy grin proved what he already knew: he sounded like an uptight ass.
‘You have a little girl? That’s great,’ Callie said, falling into step beside Tom while Archer brought up the rear, hating himself for feeling petty and out of sorts that Callie had lightened up for the first time since yesterday because of his brother.
‘Hey, another girl. Awesome.’
Izzy flew at Callie and a strange, unidentifiable feeling swamped him as he watched his niece hug her, spontaneously and without reserve, the way he’d wished Iz had hugged him when he’d first opened the door.
Unfazed, Callie led Izzy back to the chessboard, where she shook hands with Trav, whose goofy grin matched Tom’s.
Great—two Flett males she’d slayed. He couldn’t wait until she met his dad.
Three.
The number popped into his head.
Three Flett males she’d slayed, including him. No matter how many times he denied it, the fact remained: Callie was the kind of woman who could have an impact on a guy.
An unforgettable impact, considering the schmuck he turned into around her.
When he finally tore his gaze away from the captivating sight of Callie giggling alongside Izzy, Tom’s smug smirk greeted him.
‘So tell me. What did an amazing woman like that see in a putz like you? And why the hell did you let her go?’
Did.
Past tense.
Having his brother verbalise what he’d been wondering himself since reconnecting with her ticked