Page 3 of Archer's Awakening

“Security can be here in a heartbeat. I suggest you get your beefy ass and your little dick out of here before I call them.” I pointed.

He clearly considered the odds of taking me on and how, as a lawyer, I might destroy him. He didn’t seem like the shiniest penny in the jar, but he clearly saw when the odds were stacked against him.

Head hung, he scooted out.

I slammed the door. Then threw the safety bar.

But derived little satisfaction from the gesture.

Oh my God, I wouldn’t touch him with a hundred-foot pole.

Not if he was the last man on earth.

What was I thinking?

Except now I was alone in a very expensive room with lube, condoms, a few toys, and a long night stretching out ahead of myself.

I could walk out. Just pack up my stuff, put my suit back on, and head out into the dreary, cold night.

And that also would mean going home to an empty house, shitty memories, and papers I don’t want to deal with.

Well, that was all true.

I pulled my boxer briefs back on—thank Christ no one had been in the hall and had wandered past while I stood there naked with my rather impressive but still very flaccid cock hanging out.

Huh. He’s smarter than I am. He knew what a horrible choice Chevy would’ve been.

Why did all the guys I knew named Chevy have to be dicks? I knew there were tons of perfectly reasonable, sane men named Chevy, but karma hadn’t seen fit to send any my way yet.

I moved to the window and pulled back the curtain. I could look down on Georgia Street in downtown Vancouver. All the little people scurried around, trying to stay dry in this horrible rain.

Jesus, I rarely even entertained clients in the restaurant downstairs here, the place was so expensive.

Maybe you were trying to compensate?

I tried to shrug off the idea, but it wormed its way into my brain. I had wanted to impress my hookup. Hell, that he chose to spout off misogynistic bullshit and risk losing a roll in the hay in one of Vancouver’s luxury hotels spoke volumes.

I should figure out who his wife is and warn her. I’ll bet he doesn’t even always use condoms.Something about the guy…well, now I could see how off he truly was.

And I was more concerned about his wife than my own self-preservation. He could very well turn the tables on me and show up in my office to make a stink.

Still, my mind circled around the poor woman, at home with the kids and dogs, while her cheating asshole of a husband fucked random men in hotel rooms.

I probably should’ve been worried for myself, and not for some stranger. But then, I always had a soft spot for the weak and vulnerable. I tried to strike a balance—the successful lawyer who got all he could for his wealthy clients—and the kindhearted man who did pro bono work.

Huh.

The balance wasn’t always right.

Possibly why my wife of fourteen years had just left me.

Probably.

Might’ve also been because I’d forgotten our wedding anniversary.

I’d tried to explain.

How my client was leaving an abusive marriage and had a short window to escape.

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