Out of Control (Untamed #2) (14 page)

“It’s—” He looked like he was searching for the right words but wasn’t sure what they were. “It was the right thing to do.” Then he smiled. “I know how you are about that.”

Oh, my god. Was he actually teasing me?

“Yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes, feeling the warmth of his grin seep through my body right down to my bones. “All I did was lend you my freaking car. You
needed
it, Dare. Admit it. I can’t believe you’re still going on about that three years later.”

His eyes widened as he let out a small laugh, suddenly looking a lot more like the Dare I knew so well. It felt so good to joke with him. Everything that had happened today disappeared from my mind. There was only Dare.

“It was a cherry red Mercedes SLS AMG,” he said. “A three-hundred-thousand-dollar car. There weren’t any of those in my neighborhood.”

I shrugged my shoulders and pointed to my chest. “Well,
this
court saw fit to award it to you in rightful exchange while your car was being fixed, thanks to the fucked up driving of the defendant.”

Dare laughed. “I still object on the grounds that the gesture was way too extravagant.”

“Overruled. The grace period for filing complaints has passed.” I banged an invisible gavel in the air. “You’re just going to have to let it go.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Jesus. You sure you’re not going to law school?”

I nodded. “More sure than ever. You’ve just forgotten how good I am at arguing.”

“Your stubbornness is impossible to forget, Ree.” He smiled at me then, the warm, wonderful smile of three years ago when everything was good.

I held my breath, waiting for his face to close again, for him to shut down on me, to remember why he didn’t want to be with me anymore. He didn’t. Instead, he just climbed back into bed, held the covers up for me as an invitation, and waited.

The scariest thing I’d ever done was walk back over and slip in beside him, not knowing whether it would be this old, warm Dare or the new, closed-off Dare I’d wake up to in the morning. But something felt different, things had changed between us, so I took a chance.

He pulled me tight against him, his hands staying still, showing no intent to take things further that night. I relaxed into his embrace, and fell asleep again, listening to the rhythm of his breaths, relishing the feel of his warmth around me.

Existing in this moment with Dare was like coming home after a long journey, like being lost and suddenly found again.

fifteen

T
he next afternoon the butterflies were back in my stomach as I was getting ready to go over to Dare’s. Things felt so different. GOOD different. We’d woken up late, and I’d had to rush to get to the gallery, but he’d still looked at me like he wanted me there. Like he was sorry to see me go.

The new Dare was gone. The old one was back, mostly, and I couldn’t wait to spend the evening with him. My body was humming, already tingling in all the right places as I envisioned all the things I wanted to do to him—and have him do to me—after he was done painting.

Things just felt right, like tonight would lead us forward. Together. And I couldn’t wait to get started on that journey.

As my hand reached for the doorknob, there was a knock on my door. Excitement flooded me as I grinned. Dare couldn’t wait either. Maybe we wouldn’t make it to the painting at all tonight. Maybe we’d spend the entire afternoon doing all the naughty things I’d—

“Reagan! Open up, baby girl! I’ve come to rescue you.”

My jaw dropped and my mouth literally hung agape as I opened the door to Archer.

“What are you—”

“Get dressed, babe. I’m taking you out.” He breezed past me to stand in the middle of my living room. As always, every minute detail about him—from his expensive clothes to his precisely arranged blonde waves—was executed to perfection. He was like a living, breathing magazine shot. Even his wrinkled up nose as he evaluated my apartment was somehow attractive. “I’ve flown all the way to Paris just for this.”

I stood frozen in the open doorway. “How the hell did you—”

“Know where you were? I’m a resourceful guy.” He looked past me as I heard Dare’s door open. “This place is a dump. Why don’t you come stay with me at the George V? I’ve got a huge suite and I’m willing to share my bed.” His lascivious grin was aimed over my shoulder.

I turned to see Dare standing in his doorway, his face stony, his eyes full of betrayal. I opened my mouth to explain that this obviously wasn’t what it looked like, but his gaze turned cold, and he just shook his head like he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it again.

“Dare,” I said, taking a step toward him, “wait…it’s not—”

“It’s not what, Reagan? Jesus Christ, what do you take me for?”

I rushed across the hallway to his door, and spoke in a low voice. “It’s not what you think. He just showed up. He’s my fr—”

“I
know
who he is. I remember him very clearly.”

OH, SHIT. The last time Dare had seen Archer had been at the hospital after my overdose. When Archer had claimed me as “his girl.” Which meant Dare probably thought we’d been together this whole time. And that I was still with him since he was practically marking my apartment as his territory. It REALLY didn’t help that Dare had caught the tail end of our conversation and heard Archer’s flippant proposition.

Things hadn’t even gotten started for real with Dare and life was already screwing with me. Fucking hell.

“I didn’t know he was coming to Paris, Dare. And I definitely didn’t know he’d just show up at my apartment unannounced.” I glanced back at Archer and he winked.

Fuck. Me.

“Jacques just called,” Dare said, ignoring my explanation. “I have to head over to the gallery for a couple of hours. I won’t need to you model right now, so you and Pretty Boy can do whatever the hell you want.”

I sighed. “Do you still want to work on the paintings later tonight? I’ll just grab a quick dinner with Archer and meet you when you get back.”

Dare’s eyes bore into mine. “Do what you want.” He stepped past me to close and lock his door. Then he stuffed his apartment keys in the pocket of his jeans and stalked away, disappearing down the stairwell.

SHIT.

Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile I wasn’t truly feeling on my face, and turned back to Archer. “So,” I said, dreading the night and already wishing it was over.

He searched my face as if he saw through my grin. “Everything okay, baby girl?”

My foul mood wasn’t fair to Archer. Meeting my old—and only—friend for dinner wasn’t unreasonable. Dare would just have to understand or keep his brooding to himself. While I didn’t exactly want to be rocking the boat at
this moment
in our re-relationship, this dinner was the right thing to do. In order to have a real shot with Dare, I had to be able to fully exist and function apart from him.

“Yes. Everything is fine,” I told Archer with a real smile this time. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“I’ve already made reservations at Le Cinq, so slip into something sexy and let’s go.” He looked me up and down, then lifted a mischievous eyebrow. “You need some help getting changed?”

“Hell no,” I said, pushing him toward the couch, and laughed in spite of everything. God, he was such a fucking rogue. I was worried about Dare and how I’d smooth things over later, but Archer could always make me laugh. Even in the worst of times. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him.

I went into my room and put on my favorite vintage, champagne-colored silk sheath dress. It fit like a glove, the color a perfect complement to the golden tones of my long, straight hair. I hadn’t been anywhere as nice as Le Cinq since I’d left New York—and it felt kind of good to dress up.

Though all I could think was,
I wish Dare was coming.
I wanted him to be the one admiring me from across the table, not Archer.

But I couldn’t think like that. I’d see him later, and I wanted to enjoy dinner. Even if it had to be mostly by force of will.

Archer kept up a funny and distracting dialogue all through dinner. However contrived, it felt good to laugh with him. He had a PhD in Charm and even though I could always see through his bullshit, I understood why women fawned over him. In fact, I noticed several cougars near our table who kept trying to catch his eye—one of whom looked older than his mother, which only made me tease him until he blushed.

“Oh my god,” I said, staring in amazement at his flushing cheeks. “You’ve actually fucked somebody’s mom, haven’t you? God, just please don’t tell me it was mine.” My curiosity got the better of me as I leaned toward him and whispered, “So how was it?”

“Fan-
fucking
-tastic,” he said, laughing. “But nothing compared to you. You know you’re the only girl for me.”

“Not true, as evidenced by the long line of chicks who came before and after me,” I said. “But someday, some girl will steal your heart and that statement will be so very true for her.”

Archer stared at me for a moment, before looking down at his empty plate. “Dessert?”

“No way.” I shook my head. “
J’ai fini
. That meal was so amazing I don’t have any room for dessert. But you go ahead if you want.”

He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “There’s only one thing I want for dessert and it’s not on the menu.”

I groaned so loudly a few people actually turned to look at us. “Does that line ever work?”

He grinned, his blue eyes glinting. “Every single time, baby girl. Don’t bust my perfect record now. Come on, be a team player.”

“God. Grow up.” Being the adult I was, I threw my napkin at him. “You’re depraved, you know that?”

“And you love that about me.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”

“I do, actually.” The gravity in his tone made the smile fall from my face.

Not this, Archer. Not now.

He shrugged and signaled to our waiter for the bill as my phone rang.

Fucking A—Mother aka
Don’t Pick Up if You Know What’s Good For You
as she was now labeled in my contacts. I’d been ignoring her phone calls since the day I left New York. So far, I’d collected twenty-one livid voicemails. Every single one was delivered in that terrifyingly quiet, icy tone she loved to use on me.

“You better have a good excuse for this impromptu trip, Reagan.”

“Your father wants to know why you have failed to respond to Harvard, Reagan.”

“Why can’t you be more like your siblings, Reagan? Quincy and Pierce would NEVER do this to me. I am having daily migraines because of your selfish behavior.”

The last few were just: “Reagan. Call me. NOW.”

Two days ago, my mailbox had finally reached its Olivia McKinley limit.

I turned the screen around to show Archer and he nodded at it.

“You should probably just talk to her and get it over with,” he said. “You’re going to have to eventually.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. How the hell did he know I hadn’t been talking to her all along? I looked down at my vibrating phone again. Oh, what the fuck.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Reagan. Finally!” There was something eerily different about the pitch of her voice this time. It had none of the frost of her voicemails. “How are you, darling?”

Darling?
My mother had never once in my twenty-two years called me
darling
. Or anything else that could be deemed a term of endearment. A warning flashed in my mind. Something was up. Something HAD to be up.

“Fine,” I said.

“And how are things with Archer?”

“He just got here today. How did you know he was here?” My stomach clenched as I realized
exactly
how she knew. My gaze pinned Archer in place.

“I heard you were having a lovely dinner at Le Cinq.”

“Heard?” I glared across the table.
Traitor
.

“Yes.
Très romantique!
Soooo,” she said, drawing out the word as if it had eleven fucking o’s, “do you have any news?”

“News?” I paused, raising my eyebrows at Archer. The smile froze on his face and he quickly busied himself with the bill. And I turned my attention back to her. “Mother, have you taken too many of your special pills?”