Park (Archer's Creek Book 4)

by Gemma Weir

  She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me for a moment. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

  “Why, thank you,” I say, tipping an imaginary hat at her.

  She giggles and the sound is rich, husky, and fucking glorious.

  “We actually met the first day of college. We got assigned as roommates.”

  “I bet that was fun,” I say mockingly, as a memory of the huge princess room Taylor grew up in springs to mind.

  “Actually it was,” Rosebud says, smiling. “The first time I saw her she was screaming into her cellphone, in the middle of an argument with her boyfriend. She threw her cell to the floor and stamped on it,” Rosebud says, recalling the memory with a soft laugh. “I was terrified of her. I mean she seemed crazy and I was a really young eighteen—my parents were strict and I was pretty sheltered. But that first night she dragged me out to a party and made me enjoy myself. She forced me out of my shell that first night and she’s been doing it ever since.”

  When she falls silent, I watch as the smile slips from her lips and a frown replaces it. “This is the first real argument we’ve ever had.”

  Her eyes fall to her plate. I want to reach out and take her hand, but I’m not sure she’ll appreciate my support, given that I’m part of the reason they’ve fallen out. My gut is screaming at me to warn Rosebud away from Taylor. To tell her that she lies, that she’s fucked-up beyond belief. But the truth is that Rosebud knows Taylor an awful lot better than I do. “Can I ask what exactly you argued about?”

  Her eyes dart to meet mine and her brow furrows. “You,” she says simply.

  Taking a deep breath, I grab my beer and drink a healthy gulp before I speak. “Look, you guys have been friends for a long time; don’t let all the bullshit and lies between me and Taylor cause problems. These are our issues; they don’t need to become yours too.”

  Reaching forward, she entwines our fingers across the table. “I can’t just overlook what she’s done, what she planned to do.”

  Then she echoes my words back at me. “These are mine and Taylor’s issues; they don’t need to become yours too.”

  I smile, squeezing her fingers tightly. “Touché, my wee Rosebud. How about we just call Taylor an off-limits subject?”

  Her eyes soften and she tilts her head to the side and smiles at me. “I think I like that idea.”

  The rest of the meal passes quickly. Park is warm and sweet and nice. Despite our differences we discover a mutual love of action movies and cheesecake and I enjoy my time with him.

  We’re friends, just friends, I remind myself for the hundredth time tonight. Park isn’t my type, both physically and his lifestyle, but the draw that I’m beginning to feel for him, feels like more than friendship. I like him. After spending the evening with him, my stomach is full of delicious food and my heart is full of happiness at finding this intelligent, engaging new friend. He’s so much more than his first appearance suggests. His body is covered in art, and at first glance he definitely strikes an imposing figure. But now, hours later, I’m not ready to say goodnight to him.

  Talking to him is easy. He makes me feel at ease, he’s made me laugh, and I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal out with a man this much. A dull thud of disappointment flows through me when we turn onto the street where my guest house is located, and as Park turns off the engine, I swear I hear him sigh almost as wearily as I feel.

  I try to climb off, but the bike is so big and my legs just aren’t as long as they need to be to traverse his huge motorcycle. Park watches amused as I struggle, then climbs off with ease and lifts me from the seat as though I don’t weigh a thing.

  “Thanks,” I say, my cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

  “My pleasure,” he purrs, his Irish accent rolling over the words and making them sound like seduction.

  Heat pools in my stomach. This shouldn’t be happening. Park and I are friends, barely friends, more like acquaintances; but yet here I am, sad to say goodbye. I’m only here for two more days and despite his announcement that we’re going to be friends, I’ll be surprised if he keeps up with it once I’ve gone home.

  “Goodnight, Park,” I say with a small wave and turn to leave.

  A hand wraps around my arm and I’m pulled into a huge, warm chest. Park’s arms wrap around me and he hugs me tightly, dropping a familiar and achingly comforting kiss on the top of my head. “Goodnight, friend,” he says into my hair, before releasing me and stepping back with a cheeky smirk.

  It’s the perfect end to the night and the reminder I need that this strange enigma, Taylor’s brother, wants to be my friend and only my friend. A calmness settles over me at this realization. Friends I can do. “Night, friend,” I say, before I turn and walk away.

  I don’t look back, and the night remains silent until I close the front door of the guest house behind me and the motorcycle roars to life. Quickly, I make my way to my beautiful room, unlocking the door and pushing my way inside. I kick off my shoes and clothes and pull on my slobby oversized t-shirt and leggings before climbing into the huge, plush bed.

  Grabbing the remote, I turn on the TV and set a movie to play as I reach for my purse and pull out my cell. Hope flares to life in my chest when I see my text message icon flashing and I quickly click into it, hoping to see Taylor’s name, but I don’t. The message is from my mom asking how I’m enjoying Taylor’s bachelorette party. Disappointment fills me and I type a short reply, saying we’re having a blast.

  My mom would understand if I told her about Taylor and my fall out, but I can’t tell her the whole truth, so I lie. Dropping the cell to the mattress, I roll to my side, hugging a pillow to my chest. I thought Taylor would have gotten in contact by now. Is this it? Is this the end of a ten year friendship? I don’t agree with her behavior. In fact I’m appalled that she would do something so disgusting as deliberately try to seduce her half-brother, but we’ve been friends for so long. I’m not sure I can consider us not being best friends anymore.

  Lifting the pillow, I groan and cover my face with it. I don’t know what to think. I don’t understand why she would behave like this, and I don’t understand why she turned on me either. A single tear rolls down my cheek, but I wipe it away and dropping the pillow, I flop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

  My cell beeps and I reach for it without thought, lifting it above my face. My pulse races a little when I see Park’s name on the message.

  Park: Hello, friend.

  A giggle bubbles from my throat and a smile twitches at the corner of my lips. Tapping at my screen, I quickly type out a reply.

  Rosie: Hello to you too, friend.

  Why is he texting me when he only dropped me off five minutes ago? Is he home already, or did he pull over just to message me? I don’t have time to ruminate any further because my cell beeps again.

  Park: I had fun tonight.

  Rosie: Me too.

  This is weird. I drop my cell to the comforter and shuffle up the bed until my back is propped up against the headboard. Why is my heart racing and my hand hovering over my cell waiting for it to beep and signal another message from him? We’re new, but I want to talk to him, and the feeling makes a worried ache settle low in my stomach. My cell beeps and I fumble, grabbing it then dropping it again, before finally wrapping my fingers around it and lifting it to read the text.

  Park: What are you doing tomorrow?

  Rosie: Nothing, my plans were all with Taylor and all about finding you. I thought I’d maybe just wander around town, do a little shopping.

  Park: That sound like the shittiest day ever. Come hang out with me at the shop and we can get some lunch. I have an early appointment, but Smoke can come get you and bring you to me.

  I stare at my cell, reading and rereading the words. He wants to hang out with me again. I should probably say no. Park’s from a world I have no idea about. He’s a biker for goodness’ sake, and I’m a small-town, good girl who likes men with shiny shoes and well press
ed slacks. Park and his friends are so out of my depth.

  Rosie: I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

  I wish I could take it back the moment I send my reply. Park isn’t looking for a date, just a friend and am I really so judgmental and narrow-minded that I’d let the fact he’s a biker put me off getting to know him. My fingers tap at the screen as I start to type a reply, but another message comes through before I have chance to.

  Park: It’s a great idea. Smoke will pick you up at ten. Night, friend xo

  My mouth falls open. He did it to me again. He totally just told me what to do and then cut off, not giving me a chance to respond to his high-handedness. I start to type a reply to him, then instead decide to call him, selecting his number from my contacts and hit call.

  He answers on the first ring. “Can’t talk. See you tomorrow, my wee Rosebud” he drawls and then ends the call.

  I can’t help the amused snort of laughter that bursts from me and I shake my head. Perhaps I’d argue more with his bossy, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer behavior if I truly didn’t want to see him, but it appears I can’t even lie to myself. So instead I snuggle down into the soft fluffy comforter and close my eyes, a smile still spread across my face, because tomorrow I’m spending the morning at a tattoo shop with my new biker friend.

  Ending the call, I slide my cell into my pocket and twist the key, bringing my bike’s engine to life. I have no idea why I’m stalking this girl or friend-zoning her as hard as I am. Maybe it’s to remind my cock that she’s not for us.

  A smile twists on my lips and I feel a twinge of excitement at getting to see her again tomorrow. Maybe she’ll let me ink something on all that beautiful virgin porcelain skin. The thought makes my cock twitch beneath my jeans. Willing it down, I try to convince myself that it’s her ink-free skin that’s getting me all het up, not the idea of getting my hands on her, or getting to see her curves if she had to strip down for me.

  I’m a sick fucking bastard. Rosebud is my new friend. She’s classy and nice and definitely not someone I can use as a one-night-stand. I’m fairly sure she’s a relationship kind of a girl. She sure as shit doesn’t look like the type of woman who rolls in and out of a guy’s bed after a meaningless fuck. If she did, she’d end up with a harem of men stalking her peachy ass around, begging for a second chance. She’s the type of woman you cherish; the type you claim and then never let go of.

  Shaking off my distracted thoughts, I ride home, pulling into the courtyard and killing the engine on my bike as the shutter closes behind me. A wave of exhaustion crashes over me the moment I push through my front door and the familiarity of my apartment consumes me. This has to be one of the most fucked-up days I’ve had since I found out about Taylor all those years ago.

  Taylor. At just the thought of her name, my nose wrinkles and an unexpected feeling of anger barrels though me. All those years, she could have told me who she was, who she was to me, and she didn’t. Instead, she allowed me to fall in love with her, to flirt with her.

  I have the sudden urge to speak to my dad. The last time I had a conversation with him was the day I left. Since then, I’ve spoken to my mom once or twice a year. I can’t bring myself to do more than that, knowing he cheated on her, and knowing if I’m around her, I’ll tell her the truth.

  Pulling my cell from my pocket, I dial his number, my fingers recalling the digits even after all this time.

  “Hello,” he answers almost immediately.

  “Dad,” I say, my voice gruff and lifeless.

  “Parker?” he asks, his voice full of unsure hope.

  I’ve never heard my father’s voice sound like that before. My entire childhood he just sounded pissed off. I didn’t realize he had any other tones. Now, when I’m speaking to him for the first time in a decade, his voice is the same yet so startlingly different in tone, that my throat clams up and I have no idea what to say.

  “Parker,” he calls again. “Is that you, son?”

  Coughing, I try to clear my throat. “Err, yeah, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay? Is everything okay?” He sounds panicked, his voice cracking on the last word.

  “It’s fine, I’m fine,” I say.

  “Oh.” He pauses. “You just, you… I haven’t.” He pauses again like he has no idea what to say. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  This time the crack in his voice is unmistakable and I swear I hear him sniffle. Is my dad crying? “Dad.”

  He clears his throat, but I hear the sniffle again. “Are you crying?” I ask, astounded.

  “It’s been ten years, son,” is all he replies and then falls silent.

  The emotion in his voice knocks me off kilter. I want to stay hard and angry, but my dad is crying, and no matter my resolve, the ice surrounding my heart cracks a little. “Taylor’s here,” I say, the words coming without my permission.

  “What?”

  “Taylor is here. She tracked me down,” I tell him.

  “What does she want? How did she find you?” he asks, all signs of emotion gone from his voice.

  I sigh wearily. “Honestly, I don’t know what she wants.” I blurt “She knows you’re her biological father.”

  I hear the clink of ice against glass and the memory of my father pouring himself a whiskey flashes into my mind. The image is so clear I can practically smell the smoky, woody scent of the liquor.

  “She’s known for years, but she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “Does mom know?” I ask.

  “Yes. I told her the day you found out. She knew I’d been unfaithful, that’s why she left me in the first place and took you back to Ireland. But she didn’t know my infidelity had resulted in a child. She left me.”

  “Good,” I say, “You don’t deserve her.”

  “I know I don’t. She knows that too now, but somehow, she found it in her heart to forgive me. Do you think someday you could forgive me too? I’m a selfish man, Parker, but I’m trying not to be. That day, the way you looked at me, I’ve never been so ashamed of myself. Having my eighteen-year-old son look at me like I was dirt, well, that did something to me. After you left, I told your mother that night, and the next day I went to see Taylor. She slammed the door in my face. I don’t blame her. She refuses to have anything to do with me, to even acknowledge that I’m her biological parent, but I won’t stop trying. I’m trying to make amends; and I know you have a new life in Texas.”

  “Wait,” I interrupt him. “You know I’m in Texas?”

  “Son, I’ve always known where you are; so has your mother. I’ve wanted to come to you so many times, but your mom stopped me. She told me to leave you be, that you would come to us when you were ready. Neither of us ever expected that it would be over ten years. I’m so sorry, Parker. I’m so very, very sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way about Taylor. Truly, I had no idea you were in love with her and I was too selfish to think about you, when all I wanted was to forget that I’d been stupid enough to risk what I had with your mother. I’ll never forgive myself for losing you for so long, but even if you can’t forgive me, then come home and see your mom, she misses you too.”

  I don’t realize that I’m crying until I try to speak and all that comes out is a choked sob.

  “I love you, Parker, so much. I’m so sorry,” my dad says, emotion filling his voice before he breaks off and I can hear his stifled tears.

  Neither of us speaks for a long while, but I don’t end the call. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this conversation. None of his words excuse his behavior, but to have him acknowledge it and sound contrite, well that means so much more than I ever expected.

  “Parker,” my dad says, his voice raspy.

  “I’m still here, Dad, but can’t you just call me Park, like everyone else does?”

  A dry, tear filled laugh fills my ears. “I can do that.”

  We talk aimlessly for a few minutes. Dad asks about my work and the awards and accolades I’ve achieved over t
he years. Turns out he’s had a private investigator keeping tabs on me since the moment I left. Maybe I should be upset about that, but I’m not. Talking to my dad feels like a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying has been lifted from my shoulders.

  “So what happened with Taylor?” he asks.

  “She tried to kiss me.”

  “She what?” He roars.

  “Yep. She tracked me down, then came all the way to Texas and to my club and tried to kiss me. I thought she didn’t know, then when I went to see her, she told me she’s known since she was a kid. It’s fucked-up, Dad.”

  “I’ll speak to her mom and dad. I know you guys are adults now, but they need to know that she’s done this. Where is she now?”

  Rubbing at my hair, I sigh. “Last I heard she’s still at her hotel about twenty minutes outside of Archer’s Creek. She came with a friend, but they’ve had a falling out and Rosebud’s staying in a guest house in town.”

  “Rosebud?” My dad questions.

  “Rosie. They met at college.”

  “Why do you call her Rosebud?” he asks, and his voice takes on a teasing tone.

  “Because. Because I do. Look, I need to go, I’ve got an early client in tomorrow.” I say, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with this whole conversation.

  “Oh,” my father’s voice weakens, and I can hear the resigned disappointment.

  “Look, Dad, I’m gonna need some time. Maybe… maybe I could come out and see you and mom some time?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I can send the jet; just let me know.”

  “I can buy my own plane ticket,” I rasp.

  “I know. I know that. I just thought that maybe… No, that’s fine, just come, whenever you want, just come. Please. Or maybe me and your mom, or just your mom if you’d prefer, maybe we could come to you?”

  My dad’s voice is almost pleading and for the first time since I left, I feel a tinge of guilt. I haven’t seen my parents in over ten years. I’ve always blamed my dad for that, but maybe it’s time I took a little responsibility too.