Made to be His (The Archer Family #1) Read online

  Made to be His

  An Archer Family Novel

  Allison Gatta

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Sneak Peek: Bound to be His, the second novel in the Archer Family Series

  Thanks so much for reading!

  About the Author

  Also by Allison Gatta

  By AE Gatta

  Copyright

  For Ryan—I was made to be yours

  Chapter 1

  2009

  Even from a block away, Andy Archer could make out the faint strains of "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" bumping from the open door of the fraternity house.

  This was it.

  Two months into her freshman year, she was going to a real-life frat party, complete with a trendily ironic 90's theme. She smoothed her dishwater-brown hair down over her red plastic jump suit a-la "Oops, I Did It Again" Britney, and her flip phone buzzed in her wristlet.

  She pulled the little cube from her purse and eyed the message from her roommate, Shay. "Be there in ten. Don't worry, I won't bother to look for you too hard."

  Andy rolled her eyes at the five winky faces following the message and shoved the phone back in her bag none too ceremoniously. She'd known it was a mistake to tell Shay about the invite.

  Or, rather, about who'd invited her.

  Andy's heart sped up again just thinking about it.

  She'd been sitting in the pub with her brother, Matt, chatting while they watched the Yankees clinch the playoffs.

  "I think the Philly's will take it this year," she'd said.

  A deep, dark voice beside her had rumbled, "We can only hope."

  Then her heart thudded into her stomach as she stared into Logan Grant's laughing gaze. Of course, Matt stood and greeted his friend with all the fist bumping and male grunts usually reserved for best friends and teammates, as if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis.

  And for Matt, it hadn't.

  After all, he wasn't the one who'd been desperately trying to seem like a normal human being every time Logan was around. He wasn't the one who had trouble remembering to breathe at the mere sight of his friend’s six feet of rock hard muscle.

  Matt slid back into the booth and invited his friend to join them.

  "What brings you here this fine day? Avoiding another test?" Matt asked.

  Logan grinned back. "Two birds, one stone. I'm actually spreading the word. Alpha is having a party Halloween weekend, and it'd be nothing without our star pitcher."

  "I'm honored." Matt grabbed his beer, and sipped. "But I have a date."

  "Right." Logan frowned. "Well, when that goes bust, you know where to find us. It's 90's themed, so wear something topical. I'm planning on doing my best Fabio from the ‘I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter’ commercials."

  "I loved those," Andy piped in, but then as heat spread to her cheeks, she automatically wished the earth would swallow her up.

  Luckily, Logan didn't seem to notice. "Who doesn't? Well, anyways, I should probably try to find the people who don't think they're too cool for this shindig."

  He slid from the booth and Andy watched him pass each of the stalls, noting the way every woman in the place turned to do the same. When he was nearly to the door, though, he turned and added, "Andy, you're coming, right?"

  "I-I…" she stuttered.

  "Of course. I'm pretty sure she still knows all the moves to ‘Bye, Bye, Bye,’" Matt called.

  "Good, then I won't be the only one burning up the dance floor. I'll be keeping an eye out for you." He shot her another playful grin, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the doors again.

  When she was sure the coast was clear, she glared at her brother. "What the hell did you do that for?"

  "Mostly to make sure you didn't spend Halloween in your dorm room watching the game." He took another swig of his beer, then added, "but also because I thought it was fun."

  And so two weeks and one 90's-inspired shopping trip later, she found herself on Fraternity Lane, still staring at the porch of the house she was too chicken to enter.

  Several clusters of people lingered on the stairs and around the patio furniture outside, while still others clung to the doorway like their life depended on it. From the railing, a girl dressed like “Genie-in-a-Bottle”-era Christine Aguilera called, "Britney Spears!" and pointed at her.

  Andy nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

  "Oh my god," she slurred. "I fucking love Britney Spears."

  "Who doesn't?" She cleared her throat, then skirted around the clusters of people on the steps until she'd reached the front door. She opened her mouth to ask if faux-Christina had seen Logan, but the cheer from inside the house interrupted her.

  "What was that about?" she asked to anyone listening.

  "Ugh," a guy dressed like Chuckie Finster said. "Damned Phillies can't catch a break tonight."

  "The game is on?"

  The woman beside Chuckie, clad in her own matching Angelica Pickles outfit, groaned. "Unfortunately."

  "Great. Thanks." Andy muscled her way inside, ignoring the crowds of people around her and the stink of booze and weed in the air, until she found the TV on the far side of the common room. It was a small flat screen, and the knot of people crowding it was so tight that she had to stand on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of the score.

  The Phillies were losing. Miserably.

  "What'd I tell you? Nobody is closing out the Yankees this year." The deep voice rumbled from behind her, and she turned to find Logan standing there in a Yankees jersey and jeans.

  "What happened to the Fabio get up?" she asked, pushing past the sudden dryness in her throat.

  He shrugged one shoulder lazily. "I figured you shouldn't mess with perfection."

  "You didn't like the blond wig, did you?" She smiled.

  He grinned back. "Nope. It was awful."

  A beat of silence filled the air between them, and she licked her lips, doing her best to think of something cool and interesting to say. Luckily, he beat her to it.

  "I like your outfit, though. I didn't peg you for the type to wear something so risqué."

  "Oh, this old thing?" She tried to gesture, but the tight plastic costume cut into her skin. "It was either this or my Linda Ellerby get-up, so..."

  "Linda Ellerby?"

  "You know, she did the news on Nickelodeon. She was like...talking about community outreach and stuff?" She cleared her throat. Strike one on cool and interesting.

  "Oh, right. I don't think I watched that. Must’ve been more for people your age." He shoved a hand in his pocket, and glanced around. "Hey, you want a drink?"

  She nodded a little too vigorously, and followed him onto the back porch to the huge keg.

  "You like PBR?" He asked.

  "Who doesn't?"

  He laughed. "Good one. I know. But I got outvoted." He poured her drink into a red plastic cup, then hoisted it her way. She took it quickly, if only to avoid him seeing just how much her hands were shaking.

  To her surprise, there was no one outside with them, though she suspected that had a lot to do with the fact that Destiny's Child had taken over the playlist inside.

  "Are you bummed to be missing the game?" he asked.

  "No." She shrugged. "I'm happy to..."

  Be here with you?

  That was beyond lame.

  "To get out of my dorm room." Oh, good. Lame's evil twin, Pathetic, had shown up
.

  Logan smiled as he poured himself a beer. "I feel you. Freshman year is hard. You're getting used to being away from home, finding your boundaries without your mom being up your ass the whole time."

  Her smile faltered, and for the first time, Logan seemed to notice.

  "Oh shit, I forgot about—"

  "No, no, it's no big deal. It's the same thing with being away from my dad as it would be if, you know, I'd had a mom. I'm pretty sure, anyway. It's weird, I'm the last one to go to school, so he's all on his own now. I think I'm more worried for him than he is for me." She laughed, then, realizing exactly how much she'd poured out, and stopped. "Sorry, I don't mean to over share."

  He offered her a gentle smile. "No over sharing. I think it's sweet that you worry about him. I think I'll probably do the same for my mom when my little sister goes to school."

  "You have a little sister?" she asked.

  "Tons of them." He nodded. "We're the good, old-fashioned Catholic sort. I'm the oldest, and the only boy. Five little sisters, all nine months apart."

  "Oh my god," Andy gasped. She'd never even known what it was to live with one woman, so she could hardly imagine a house so filled with estrogen. "Your life must have been a living hell."

  He laughed. "It's fine, really. I don't know what my life would be like if I didn't have a small news team of women pestering me about my love life every day."

  "I wish I could say brothers were any better. Derrick and Matt are relentless. They wouldn't let a guy get within ten feet of me all through school."

  Logan grinned. "I did the same with my sisters. And, as your brother's best friend, I guess it's my role to make sure nobody tries to take advantage of you tonight, either."

  She sipped her beer, careful not to let him read her expression. Was he saying he saw her as a little sister?

  "You saying you're going to fight off other guys?" she tried, doing her very best devil-may-care laugh.

  "Something like that," was his relentlessly frustrating answer, though the deep rumble of his voice gave her the slightest twinge of hope.

  She opened her mouth, her mind whirring with ways to draw him closer, to hunt out his exact meaning, when the sliding glass door behind her whooshed open and faux-Christina stumbled onto the porch with them.

  "Looogan," she slurred. "You're missing the game."

  "That's okay." He shrugged. "It's a series. Besides, I'm—" He gestured toward Andy, but Christina cut him off.

  "Not that game. Some of us made this a real 90s party. Seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle..." She waggled her eyebrows, and then started for the keg, but Logan blocked her way.

  "Why don't you go join them?" he asked.

  "I'm under sus-sific instructions to get you to join us." She grinned, accentuating her now uneven lipstick. "Rebecca wants to play with you."

  Logan's impassive amusement shifted to something that looked a heck of a lot more like active intrigue. His eyebrows ticked up, and his full mouth tilted to the side, one corner curled up. "Is that so?"

  This time, there was no mistaking the deep, dark interest in his voice. Andy's heart plummeted through the floor.

  "Andy, you don't mind if I—?"

  She shook her head a little too quickly, and then raised her trembling cup to her lips. "No, no, of course not. Have fun. I'll, um, be here." She gulped some amber liquid.

  "Okay, I'll check back with you later, okay? And don't forget, if I let you get into trouble tonight, your brother will never forgive me," he called over his shoulder as Christina grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the house with her.

  "No worries. I'll behave," she mumbled, then chugged her beer again as the sliding door thudded closed behind them.

  She tried to pour herself another drink, but when nothing but foam came out, she leaned against the porch railings and sighed.

  This was it. Her big, important frat party with the guy she'd been crushing on since she'd met him at Matt's spring training.

  And all of it had been for nothing. A pity invite for Matt's geeky little sister.

  Even in her second-skin costume, Logan Grant didn't see her as anything but a little kid.

  And what was worse?

  She'd never, ever felt more like a little girl in her life.

  After a few more half-hearted sips on her cup of foam, she trudged back into the party and watched the rest of the baseball game. Or, at least, gleaned what she could about the game from the reactions of the people around her.

  When her roommate, Shay, showed up dressed to the nines in her Friends-Era Jennifer Anniston costume, Andy led her onto the back porch and recounted the whole story with as little emotion as she could muster.

  "So," Shay repeated. "He said he was going to stop other guys from getting near you."

  "Yeah, but like, in a big brother-type way."

  "Honey, in that outfit, nobody is looking at you in a big brother type way tonight."

  "You don't get it. It's different with him. He's—"

  "A man. And you let him get away too easy. How long has it been?"

  "I don't know. Maybe half an hour."

  "Well, if they're playing seven minutes in heaven, then I suggest you volunteer your services." Shay raised her eyebrows, and when Andy said nothing, her friend grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the center of the common room.

  To her surprise, Logan was nowhere to be found, but Matt was there with a giant orange Afro perched on top of his sandy blond hair.

  Shay wrinkled her nose. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

  "I'm Carrot Top." Matt gestured to the rubber chicken in his belt loop.

  "Right," Shay said. "Cool. So, where's Logan?"

  "Beats the hell out of me. I was hoping Andy might know." He stared at his sister, but at that exact moment, faux-Christina chose to make a reappearance.

  "Oh my god, are you Matt Archer?" She blinked up at him like she was staring at a movie star. Which, on this campus, Andy supposed her brother was about as close to a superstar as they could get. He'd brought home two division championships already, and he wasn't even in his senior year.

  He smiled and nodded, then listened as the girl slurred something like "I go to all your games. And sometimes the practices."

  "Thanks," he said, "hey, do you know where Logan Grant is?"

  "Logan..." She blinked, almost like she'd never heard the name before, then her glassy eyes showed the most fleeting moment of clarity.

  "Oh, he and Rebecca..." She smiled, then finished. "He's busy."

  Matt laughed. "At least one of our dates went well."

  "That might have had something to do with the rubber chicken," Shay muttered and smiled, but Andy knew she was just trying—and failing—to distract her.

  It was finally official. Logan Grant was, most definitely, not interested.

  And he never had been.

  "I didn't say anything about your costume," Matt said to Shay. "What are you supposed to be? Barbra Streisand?"

  "Har. Har." She glared. "Hey, Andy, let's go get some beer and—"

  "You know, actually, I'm really tired. I'm going to head home, I think."

  "Well, let me walk you—"

  "No. Stay. Have fun," she said, then shook her head and marched toward the door without daring to glance behind her.

  Chapter 2

  2016

  Maybe it was the glare of the streetlights on the car’s tinted windows, or the way Andy Archer’s brother and her business partner, Shay, kept swatting at each other's hands on the radio dial. But whatever it was, there was no denying that tonight hummed with energy.

  This was the night that was going to change her life and put her on the map as the sports agent to have in southern California. All she had to do was act like she belonged.

  Which, of course, was easier said than done.

  "Almost there," Matt called over his shoulder, and she sat up a little straighter in the narrow backseat.

  They were turning onto the long, w
inding street near the convention center, and while they still had a ways to go, she could already catch glimpses of the flashing cameras and red limo taillights. Athletes were probably pouring out of party buses, one after another, and tonight she would be on their radar. Or at least she’d be that much closer to being on their radar. Maybe.

  "Why didn't we hire a limo?" Shay Myers, Andy’s business partner, said as she stared out the window.

  "You don't hire a limo when you drive a Rolls," Matt said, using her distraction as an opportunity to tune the radio back to the sports network.

  "Maybe you don't." Shay turned the dial back without bothering to look this time.

  The car slowed in front of the long line of press and celebrity cars, and Matt turned around again to face Andy.

  “Trust me, we’re going to stand out in the Rolls.” He grinned. “That’s a good thing.”

  She nodded. It was always odd when he looked at her full in the face that way. To see her own green eyes staring back at her, her own sprinkling of freckles across his long, thin nose. Really, the only difference between herself and her older brother, besides the obvious genitalia situation, was that the world regarded him as one of the most handsome athletes of all time.

  As for Andy? Well, she'd been voted most improved in her middle school's acne-free challenge. So that was something, even if that had been more than a dozen years ago.

  But that didn’t matter. She'd learned a long time ago that her looks were not the thing that’d get her through this life. Nope, all these stars would want someone smart and efficient on their side, and that was, by far, where Andy shined.

  She'd worn her smartest pantsuit, her most comfortable shoes, and her most professional attitude. She was going to circle this party and make it through the night the only way she knew how: by relying entirely upon her business savvy.

  And, of course, where that failed, she always had Shay’s supermodel good looks to back her up.

  Following Shay’s and Matt's lead, she slipped from the car and onto the red carpet, careful to duck far enough behind the two that she wouldn't be caught in any of their photos. It was like trying to dodge land mines, though, and every time a camera flashed, she flinched like it was about to spit poison at her. Luckily, she always knew when she'd wound up in a shot because a nearby photographer would angrily sigh and press a button on their camera to make her disappear into digital oblivion.