Archer POV
Archer swirls the amber liquid in the bottom of his cup.
They’ve been at the club for under an hour and he’s already bored. Beau’s got a whole flock of women at his side, pressing their long nails into his shirt. A few tried to come speak to Archer but were deterred by Wyatt’s aggressive behavior.
Archer rolls his eyes and tosses back the rest of his liquid. He leans across the table and refills his glass with bourbon. He sniffs it before taking a gulp. It burns down his throat.
The club smells musky. The combination of old boxes, old books and older booze is mixing together in the air into the pungent smell of dust. It burns his nostrils along with the pounds of cologne the men around him are wearing.
He hates the club.
He doesn’t know why he lets Beau drag him to the L
