We’ve only known each other a few hours, but within that time, I’ve learned that Cassidy isn’t a bullshitter. When shit with my brother blows over—which it’d better, or I’ll kick his ass—she’ll be a hoot to work with.

“He has issues,” I say, snatching the disinfectant from underneath the bar and spraying the top down.

“They always do.”

I set the bottle down and stare at her from across the bar. “What’s that mean?”

“All hot guys have issues.” She levels her deep hazel eyes on me, and I wish the lights were brighter so I had a better view of her. “So, what’s yours, big guy?”

I quickly glance away in guilt. “Who says I have one?”

Shit, and who says I only have one?

I could write an entire damn novel on mine.

“Like I said, all hot guys have issues.”

I point at her with the towel. “Don’t let Georgia hear you call Archer hot.”

She laughs. It’s feminine, indulgent—a sound I wouldn’t mind having as my ringtone. “Considering Archer is MIA, I’m sure she’d rather me call him worse.” She clicks her tongue along the roof of her mouth. “So … your issues?”

My stomach twists, and I hold up my hands. “No issues here.”

“Mm-hmm.” She strokes her chin, and her eyes meet mine. “I have an idea. When we’re finished here, we’ll embark on Operation Find Archer and Kick His Ass.”

Relief settles through me at the subject change. I chuckle. “How about this? You’ll go home, and I’ll go hunt my brother down and kick his ass.”

It’ll be a hard enough job to get Archer to talk to me. If I have someone with me? No dice.

She shakes her head. “You’ll need backup—like Batman and Robin.”

“I show up with you, shit will get worse.”

She sighs. “Geesh, you and your bro are serious buzzkills.”

“My brother is.” I shove my thumb into my chest. “Not me. I told you, I’m the fun one.”

“Does the fun one have a girlfriend?”

I’m rendered speechless for a moment. I pause to study her, zooming in on the way she waits in anticipation—licking her lips, a smile twitching at them.

“I don’t,” I croak. Nor do I want or need one.

I got involved with a woman who fucked my entire world up.

“Perfect.” The word slowly slips from her bubblegum-pink lips. “What’s your breakfast of choice?”

I raise a brow.

“I need to know what to cook the morning after our first sleepover,” she replies like duh.

I scratch my cheek. “You’re pretty blunt for a girl.”

“Girls can’t be blunt?” Her eyes, brimming with mischief and challenge, meet mine. “If you don’t like a blunt woman, this is where I retract my breakfast offer.”