Page 10 of Sunrise Arrows

“Okay,” I nod, losing the battle against laughing.

“We wouldn’t have these problems if we had gone to Paris,” she mutters, wrenching open the door to Berry Station.

I’ve been all around the world several times and nowhere has coffee quite like Berry Station, which was why I insisted that, before we did anything else, we had to stop and caffeinate.

While in the main area of town, the coffee shop got its name from its original outpost when the rail tracks were still operational. When the route became defunct, the shop closed down. Decades later, with the rise of Berry Lake becoming a summer tourist spot thanks to the resort that was built and the market for designer coffees, Berry Station was reborn, with the owners taking design inspiration from the original outpost and giving the shop a luxury travel, Art Deco vibe.

It’s also where I first met Archer.

I had just ordered a strawberry shortcake frappé and was oblivious to my surroundings as I scrolled through social media. Not paying attention to where I was going as I walked to the pickup counter, I bumped into someone. I was almost too distracted to fully look up from my phone to apologize, too engrossed in something I’ve long since forgotten about.

It was a half hearted glance I initially gave him. But when I looked up and saw nothing but a white t-shirt stretched across a firm, tight body, I took my eyes completely off my phone and looked further up, my mouth going dry as I met the deepest shade of green eyes I’d ever seen. His rough, calloused hands had reached out, gently touching me at my shoulder and my elbow, searing my skin.

He asked if I was okay—his voice as rich and deep as his eyes but slow and thick, clinging to me like the humidity outside. I smiled and stammered over giving him an answer and asking the same thing since I was the one who hadn’t been paying attention. My inability to speak made him smile, and in that moment when his full lips pulled up, softening his stubble covered sharp jawline, I was gone. Swiftly struck down like an arrow to the chest.

We spent two hours talking while seated in moody colored arm chairs that his body dwarfed before he quietly asked for my number and if he could take me to dinner that night, his suntanned cheeks turning pink all the way up to his ears.

I’ve never said yes to anything as quickly as I did to Archer Hayes.

“Ugh!” Briar shouts, blustering back out the door, her fist closed and raised as she shakes it, tumbling me free from my reverie.

I open my mouth to ask her what happened to put her in such a snit, but she turns around, face pinching in annoyed anger as she lifts her middle finger up at someone still inside.

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?” she demands, stomping in her Jimmy Choos up to the meter, quarters dropping free of her hand and pinging on the concrete. “We could have gone anywhere, Tinsley.Anywhere. The world is your oyster and we ended up in this… this… this… UGH!”

I scramble out of the SUV, waddling like a hunched over duck to grab the coins before they rolled into the street or down the gutter.

“What happened?”

She paces several steps in each direction, muttering to herself before stabbing a finger towards Berry Station.

“That fucking James Dean wannabe hick in there. Likeexcuse me, I have a MBA fromStanford!Can he even spell Stanford?”

As soon as I’ve collected the change, I pop up and pump several quarters into the meter. Behind me, Briar continues to mutter before she growls.

“You know what, no. I’m going back in there,” she decides, spinning around, the skirt of her dress blowing up as she goes.

“Shit,” I rush out, hauling ass after her.

I grab the door before it can bounce back into the brick exterior, but my blood runs cold when I hear an all too familiar voice stopping me from fully entering the coffee shop. It’s the same voice that, nine years ago, took my already broken heart and made sure it was crushed.

“The coins go in the slot, Barbie.”

“Listen here, asshole.” The entire shop—which has several employees and a dozen or more guests inside—falls to a hush as they scoot in to listen. “Just because you?—”

At just above five foot nothing and only getting an extra inch or so from my pink cowboy boots, I’m not much of an effective wall between my runway model tall best friend and Archer’s twin brother. Still, I quickly slip between them, mindful to keep my face hidden, and catch the finger Briar is about to stab into Hunter’s chest and quietly remind her, “People are watching us,” more thankful than ever before for the media training that’s stripped me of my identifying Kentucky drawl.

It’s all she needs to suddenly snap back into composure. With a brush of her fingers along the side of her face to smooth away her blonde hair and a quick breath in as she squares her shoulders back, she musters out, “Yes, I was able to work that out; thank you,” taking my hand and turning us towards the front counter.

I think I’ve made it unnoticed. Can feel the relief settling over me and the excitement creeping in that the seasonal menu of strawberry anything and everything is available. But then the song on the coffee shop's sound system changes as I’m taking my sunglasses off and putting them on my head.

Behind the counter, the barista’s eyes go wide as her mouth drops and her finger lifts up to point at me. She stutters over my name several times before squealing.

“Tiff, you okay?” Hunter asks from down the counter, pocketing his phone as he looks up and over to us. The moment his eyes move from Tiff to me, the concern melts away and cold rage has him turning to stone as he seethes, “Get out.”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second as I tuck away every emotion that comes with him and Archer. Smooth as glass inside my mind, I open my eyes and turn to face him, offering a practiced smile.

“Hello, Hunter.”

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