Cheat Codes (Dawson Family Series Book 1)

by Emily Goodwin

  “There’s an open bar,” Charlene tells us. “And after this, a bunch of us are going out for more drinks.”

  “Sounds fun,” Tyler says. Rene transfers the call and comes out from behind the desk. “What do you guys do?”

  “Well, we answer the phones,” Rene tells him and leads the way into the office. Music comes from the back, and people are gathered around a makeshift bar. “So nothing too exciting. Not like surgery, I bet!” She giggles. “But this place is a software company.”

  “Software?” I ask. There’s no way. There are tons of software companies in the city.

  “Yeah. Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t. The nerds design programs or whatever.” She slows a bit, looking down the hall into an office with a large, glass door. “Speaking of nerds, my boss is still working, so let’s get this party started early!”

  I can’t remember the name of the company Quinn works for, and before I can ask, the name on the large glass door comes into view.

  Quinn Dawson.

  I do a double take and catch a glimpse of her brunette ponytail. Taking a step back, I see her sitting behind her desk with a smile on her face. She leans back in her chair, laughing.

  And then he moves in, sitting on the edge of her desk. She points to something on the computer screen in front of her, and he leans closer before turning to face her. The smile broadens on her face and she blushes.

  I have no idea what’s actually going on. All I know is it’s making me want to Hulk out and flip tables. Quinn isn’t mine. She has no idea how much I want her, or how long I’ve wanted her at that.

  And yet I’m instantly jealous to see her with another man.

  Goddammit. She’s so much more than a piece of ass to me and it’s about damn time I admit it to myself: I’m in love with her.

  And now I’m standing in her office, walking next to her bitchy secretary who’s insulted her more than once in the little amount of time I’ve spent with her. I need to get out, or at the very least, away from Rene.

  I don’t want to mess this up any more than I already have.

  But it’s too late because Quinn looks up and stares right at me.

  9

  Quinn

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I blink. Once. Twice.

  Archer Jones is still there. He’s staring back at me, and good Lord, that man looks fine as hell in that navy blue suit. His dark hair is a little messy, and the scruff on his face enhances the strong, masculine features.

  I’m instantly turned on. And equally annoyed. What the hell is he doing here?

  “Quinn? Is everything all right?” Jacob follows my line of sight out the glass door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” I force a smile and look back up. Jacob McMillan works at our sister company and is partnering with me on this new big project. We dated for a while a year ago, and are better friends than lovers. He’s a nice guy, too nice really, and working with my ex isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.

  Don’t get me wrong, it is awkward to work with an ex when he’s still in love with you. But it’s manageable.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and stand, moving quickly out of my office. Archer steps in my direction. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Quinn, nice to see you too.” He gives me his trademark smile, and if I wasn’t still pissed at him for whatever the hell he was trying to do before, I might have gotten weak in the knees.

  “Are you stalking me?”

  “I’m not doing a very good job at it, am I?” He laughs and lets his eyes wander over me. “I like professional-Quinn. You look very…proper.”

  I cross my arms. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Do I need to call security?”

  Jacob comes up behind me. “Is he bothering you, Quinn?”

  Archer pushes his shoulders back and stares down at Jacob.

  “No,” I say. “This is my brother’s friend, Archer. I didn’t expect to see him, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” Jacob holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jacob. Which brother’s friend? She’s got a lot,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Dean’s,” Archer says and shakes Jacob’s hand. Something changes in his demeanor, and it’s then I notice how tired and worn Archer looks. “I’m attending a physician’s conference in the city.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” I press.

  “I’ll let you guys catch up,” Jacob says, reaching out to take my hand. He gives it a squeeze. “Call me if you need anything. See you later.” He turns to Archer. “Nice to meet you.” He walks past us, going to the party to celebrate the successful launch of our new program. The shock starts to wear off and my heart speeds up. Archer is here. In my office. The last time I saw him, he grabbed me and almost kissed me.

  And I wanted him to.

  I still can’t think of that incident without growing wet. I’ve dreamed of it over and over, and in my dreams, he finishes what he started. I want to tear off his suit jacket and untuck his shirt, slowly undoing every button before peeling it off his muscular body.

  Archer closes the distance between us. He smells even better than I remember, and the scent of his cologne triggers something animalistic inside of me, making me think there’s a good chance I might actually rip his clothes off.

  “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I really had no idea you worked here.”

  At a loss for words, I just nod.

  “I was going to text you and tell you I was here, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me after…” He trails off and looks away.

  After he made it clear getting close to me bothered him. I think. Maybe? I can’t get a read on him.

  “Well, welcome to Chicago. You’ve never been here before, have you?”

  “No. It’s nice.”

  “You sound surprised.” I inhale and try to get my heart rate to go back to normal. Usually, I complain that it’s too cold in this office, but right now I’m sweating. And it has nothing to do with Archer. Nope. No way.

  “I didn’t know what to expect, really.” He casts his eyes in the direction of the party. “And it was a last-minute thing. One of the surgeons I worked under when I first started my residency got me into the convention.”

  “That was nice. Right? Or are conventions awful? I kinda hate going to them. I have to talk to too many people and I don’t like most people.” Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  Archer laughs, eyes brightening. “Honestly, it’s nice to sit down for hours at a time. I haven’t done that much lately. And I’m hoping talking to one of the surgeons speaking will get me a foot in the door for a fellowship I want.”

  “A fellowship? I’m guessing it doesn’t have anything to do with taking a magical ring to Mordor.”

  “Unfortunately, no. But if it was, I’d just ride the giant eagles, right?”

  I hike an eyebrow. “You do know that wouldn’t have—you like Lord of the Rings?”

  “Now you sound surprised.”

  “You and Dean always seemed so alike, so yeah, I guess I am.” I bite my lip, wrestling my libido down. “What are you doing here though? Like in my office here?”

  “Oh, I, uh,” he starts, diverting his eyes to the ground for a second. “Another doctor and I went out to lunch together and ran into your secretaries. They invited us back for some sort of work party.” He’s trying not to cringe as he talks, and it’s both adorable and repulsive.

  “You were hoping for a booty call.”

  “It’s not technically a booty call if I’m not the one calling.”

  I put a hand on my hip. “You’re not helping your case, Jones.”

  “Fine. Yes. But not me. Just Tyler.”

  “I thought all doctors referred to each other as ‘Doctor Whatever’ and not your first names.”

  “It depends on where we are. In the hospital setting, we do. Mostly. Hey,” he says and playfully nudges me. “We spent over a decade in
school. We’ve earned being called ‘doctor’ all the time.” He smiles again and dammit, I’m going to have to change my underwear. “I didn’t know you were so high up in the company.”

  “Unlike you doctors, I don’t need to go around bragging.”

  Archer chuckles and I suddenly realize there are other people in the office, including Rene, who keeps looking over her shoulder at us.

  “Do you want to go find your date?”

  “No,” he answers quickly. “I didn’t want to come, but I’m glad I did.”

  “Yeah.” I find myself smiling. “Me too.” Our eyes meet, and I want to ask him to walk back with me, introduce him to my co-workers, and get a drink or two at the bar.

  Then I remember I’m mad at him.

  He’s an asshole, getting me all hot and bothered just to turn around and walk away like it was nothing at all.

  “I have to go back to work.”

  “Isn’t your day over at five?” he asks, looking at the clock on the wall behind me.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Your secretary.”

  “Her day is, but I stay late sometimes.”

  “Even on a Friday?”

  “Especially on a Friday,” I retort, then realize it wasn’t the best comeback. Wit has never been my strong suit.

  He gives me his best cocky smile. “And you said I was a fuddy-duddy.”

  “So now you’re not too cool to use that word?”

  “Oh, I am way too cool. I’m cool and a doctor, remember?”

  I can’t help but laugh. What’s the harm in getting one drink and one piece of cake? Maybe he’s not an asshole.

  Or maybe I’m really naive.

  There’s only one way to find out.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “My answer to that will always be yes.”

  I motion to the back of the building. “We have food. And drinks. And it sounds like Dillan has fired up the karaoke machine.”

  We fall in step together, going through the rows of empty desks. “Is this a regular occurrence?”

  “Parties? Kind of. We always celebrate a successful launch, and doing stuff like this keeps up morale in the workplace.”

  “All I want is an eight-hour shift.”

  “How long do you work? I know residents have crappy hours.”

  “Usually around eighty hours a week.”

  I give him a horrified look. “How is that legal? You’re all doctors, so you know how bad it is to not get enough sleep.”

  “Yeah, I’m shortening my life so I can extend it for others.” He’s joking…kind of. “I worked nineteen hours before getting on a plane to come here.”

  “Ouch.” No wonder he looks so tired. “And you landed this morning?”

  “Yeah. I landed at O’Hare around six this morning.”

  “Ohhh, that’s a rookie mistake. Fly out of Midway next time. O’Hare is crazy busy. Or just drive. It’s like four hours from here to Indy. Traffic permitting, at least.”

  “Noted. I did consider driving, but wasn’t sure if I could stay awake.”

  “That’s sad.”

  He shrugs. “It’s been my life for the last several years. I’m used to it. Though my ideal vacation would be any quiet hotel room with a comfortable bed.”

  “That’s mine too, though I’d prefer that room to be in a Disney hotel.”

  “I’ve never been.”

  “What?” I give him my best I-can’t-fucking-believe-it look. “We’ve been a few times, and the last trip, all my stupid brothers thought they were too old and too cool to go to Disney. They missed out.”

  “I remember that. You went our junior year over spring break and Dean had a party at your house.”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah. It got out of control and Weston had to come shut it down. He was just a rookie cop then.”

  “Oh my God. And no one ever found out. I can’t believe Wes didn’t tell me!”

  “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you. It seems like it was so long ago.”

  “Were Logan and Owen there?”

  Archer raises an eyebrow. “Why do you think it got out of control?”

  “I wish I could give them hell for this!”

  “There might be pictures. I know some were taken.”

  Archer tells me about the crazy things that went down that night as we go back to get cake and drinks. We take it into the hall, away from the noise. And right now, I’m forgetting to be mad at Archer.

  “There you are,” the man Archer came in with says. He looks from Archer to me, curious but not questioning anything.

  “Quinn,” Archer starts. “This is Dr. White. And this is Quinn.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I tell Dr. White.

  Holding a beer in one hand, he tries to put this all together. “You’re in charge here?”

  “More or less.”

  “And you two know each other?”

  “Yeah,” Archer answers. “I’ve known Quinn since my freshman year of college, but I didn’t know she worked here.”

  He didn’t introduce me as his buddy’s sister. I grit my teeth and force another smile. I need to stop.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Archer tells Dr. White. “Have fun.”

  Dr. White smirks. “Oh, I will. And you too. It was nice meeting you, Quinn.”

  I turn to Archer as soon as we’re alone again. “You said ‘doctor’ instead of his first name.”

  “I know. Fine. We do like saying it. Sometimes I’ll purposely ‘forget’ to take my lab coat off when I run errands after work so people know I’m a surgeon. I’m not proud to admit that, but it’s true. Happy now?”

  Giggling, I bring my drink to my lips and take a sip. “I like this side of you, Archer.”

  “What side?”

  “The honest one.”

  He moves so his leg touches mine. “I am honest.”

  “Really?” I don’t mean to sound as bitchy as I do. Maybe I’m still a little mad at him after all.

  “Yes,” he breathes, eyes trying to convey what he won’t say.

  I don’t budge. An apology goes a long way, buddy. Looking away, I stick my fork into my cake, carefully slicing off a flower made of frosting, and put it in my mouth. A few seconds tick by and neither of us speak.

  And a few seconds turns into a minute. And another, until my cake is gone and I have nothing to occupy myself with. I turn to Archer, telling him—for real this time—that I need to get back to my office.

  “Can I take you out to dinner?” he asks before I have a chance to get a word out.

  “Like a date?” I blurt. Shit. I wish I had more cake to stuff in my mouth to keep me from talking. Though his answer could change everything.

  “Do you want it to be a date?”

  Damn you, Archer. Every time I think the ball is in his court, he throws it back at me.

  “Depends on where you take me.”

  He grins, and I hate that I want to impress him. “Considering I’ve never been here, you might not want me to be the one picking where we go. Unless you like pizza, because the one restaurant I’ve been to so far was good enough to go back to.”

  “I do like pizza.”

  “Well, then.” He stands and offers his hand. “Shall we? Or do you have to stay?”

  “I should probably walk through and pretend to be social.” I finish my water and take his hand.

  “You never answered me,” he says, his deep voice rattling everything inside me.

  “About what?”

  “Do you want it to be a date?”

  I swallow hard, throat suddenly thick. This is the type of pressure I crack under, and it’s always because I put said pressure on myself. I get ahead of my own thoughts and end up saying something I regret. “What do you want?”

  “You’re Dean’s kid sis. He’d give me shit if he found out I was in Chicago and didn’t check up on you.”

  Archer is right. Dean would be pissed. Logan and Owen too. Eve
n Weston…and my parents. Archer is basically part of the family, and it’s not like he’s being rude. So why is my blood starting to boil?

  I look at him out of the corner of my eye, frustration building. God, I hate that I want him. I hate that I want him to see me as more than his friend’s little sister.

  I just wish I could hate him.

  “Yeah, he’d be pissed for sure.” I toss my empty plate in the trash and my cup and fork into the recycling and wait for Archer to do the same. Not saying a word, we walk to the party. With each beat that passes, I’m tempted to break my own rule of not drinking at work.

  We’re pretty casual around here. Some may even accuse us of being too hipster or crunchy for a company that develops software. We have drinks and massages at the office, and anyone without children are welcome to bring their pets on ‘bring your child to work day.’ As long as work gets done, anything goes.

  But since I got promoted, I’ve tried to uphold a certain standard and make sure I stay professional at work. I’m far from uptight and have often been caught dancing to the Disney Descendants soundtrack in my office. Yet I don’t like to drink at work because I’m the type of person who says she’ll have one shot of whiskey and then keep drinking until I’ve had five.

  “Quinn!” Marissa, a co-worker and my best friend in Chicago, sets down her empty cup and opens her arms. “Yes! I was hoping you’d stop working and—who is this?”

  “This is Archer. My brother’s friend,” I introduce. “Archer, this is Marissa. She works with me.” I shake my head. “Obviously. We’re at work.”

  Archer smiles, eyes lingering on me a moment longer than I’d expect from someone who’s only here out of loyalty to their best friend.

  “The Archer?” Marissa whisper-talks.

  I flash her a you’re-talking-way-too-loud glare and give her the tiniest nod. She hooks her arm through mine.

  “Do you have a drink? No, we need to fix that. I’ll bring her back in just a second,” she says to Archer and spins me around. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know. Wait, actually I do. He’s in town for some doctor convention. Medical doctors, not Doctor Who doctors.”