“Thanks for the ride.” I open my eyes and turn to find Archer watching me with a serious expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I missed you, E. More than I even realized.”
I reach for his hand and pull his palm against my cheek. “I missed you, too.”
I kiss his skin, and then the moment is gone. Archer climbs out of the car and walks around to help me out. With our hands linked, he walks me to the door. The night has come awake around us with singing night birds and the buzz of insects. Even from this distance, I can smell the sea. The last of my summer geraniums are starting to wither.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
“Yes.” He sighs and cages me in against the still-closed door. “So, I’d better not.”
His eyes drop to my lips, and before I can say anything else, he cups my face and neck in both of his hands and lowers his head to mine, covering my mouth in the sweetest kiss I’ve had in more than a decade.
One hand slips down my shoulder, my arm, and lands on my hip. His fingers tighten, just enough to let me know he’s there.
I can’t help myself. I step into him, pressing closer, and surrender to the kiss. I want to lose myself in him. I want to remember what it feels like to be with Archer in this way. There’s absolutely nothing better in the world than when this man focuses his whole attention on me as if I’m the only one in the world.
With a growl, he nips at the corner of my mouth and teases me with his tongue. But that’s as deep as he takes it, and he backs away far too soon.
“You’re as sweet as you ever were,” he whispers against my lips. “Maybe sweeter, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
I swallow hard and, without giving myself time to overthink it, I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him close. This man was once my husband. He’s meant more to me than anyone else in my life besides my grandmother.
And he’s here.
And despite his words to the contrary, he’s not leaving.
This could be catastrophic for both of us.
“Stop thinking so hard,” he murmurs against my hair. “No one knows where I am. You’re safe. We’re safe, E. I promise.”
God, I want to believe him.
He tips up my chin, and I stare into his gorgeous eyes.
“Trust me?” he asks.
“I’ve always trusted you,” is my immediate response. It’s true. Trust was never our issue. “But I don’t know how you can trust me after everything that happened before.”
“Stop beating yourself up, okay? I’ll be just down the street a ways if you need me. And I’ll see you very soon.”
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow, most likely.”
“Are you going to make a nuisance of yourself?”
“Oh, yeah.” He laughs and kisses me squarely on the mouth, then steps off the porch. “You’re gonna be sick of me before long.”
I unlock and open the door, watching as Archer walks backwards to his car.
“I still think this is a bad idea.”
“I told you, stop thinking. Sleep well, babe.”
And with that, he gets into his car and drives away. But this time, I don’t have a pit in my stomach at the idea of never seeing him again. No, now I’m filled with anticipation, wondering how I’m supposed to wait until tomorrow to see Archer. How am I supposed to sleep with the taste of him on my lips, and the thought of having his hands on me racing through my mind?
Yes, I want him, maybe even more than I ever did before. I’m no longer a girl wearing rose-colored glasses and telling myself lies of happily ever after.
I’m a grown woman, quickly falling in love once more with a man I’ve been tied to nearly all of my adult life. Being with him could literally be fatal for both of us.
This is a bad, bad idea.
Chapter 8
~Carmine~
I had no idea that my grandmother was a hoarder. Admittedly, I didn’t spend a lot of time in her home as an adult. As children, my brothers and I, along with Elena, spent weeks here in the summer, playing and exploring the big house on the cliffs. Nothing was off-limits to us.
Our grandmother doted on us the way any normal grandparent does.
The only difference was, ours was the matriarch of a mafia empire.
No big deal.
Cannonballs in the pool. Ice cream in the gazebo. Treasure hunts in the attic that spans the entire house, the space filled with antiques and trunks full of old things.
We loved being here together, where we could do as we pleased and be indulged by a loving grandmother.
I miss her already. I was at her bedside when she died, the only one in the room when she whispered her secret to me.
“Elena,” she said, making me sigh.
“She’s not here, Grams.”
“Helped her,” she said and then coughed. “Helped her get away.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Is she alive, Grams?”
“Hidden,” she confirmed. “Find her before your father. Keep her safe.”
And when I was carrying her casket at the church and looked up and saw the two different-colored eyes staring back at me, I knew. I knew it was Elena. She could wear any disguise in the world, and I’d still know her.
She was like a sister to me.
Of course, I had to tell my father that she’s alive. If he found out I’d kept something that huge from him…well, I wouldn’t like to know what the punishment for that might be.
But I played stupid about the rest of it. Grams knew that Elena was in danger, and I would find her and do everything in my power to keep her safe.
Now, to figure out where the fuck she is.
I’ve had a pit in my stomach for days. Rocco was right in the elevator. There would be a punishment for her staying away from the family so long. For disregarding her place in the hierarchy.
The thought of it makes me sick.
I slam a desk drawer shut in disgust.
“I’ve been through here,” I mumble, wiping my hand down my mouth. I’ve been over every inch of Grams’ office.
There’s nothing here.
On a hunch, I run my hand under the pen drawer and find a button. When I push it, an invisible drawer on the side springs free.
“Son of a bitch.”
I look over my shoulder, even though I know for a fact I’m here alone. It’s two in the morning. Rocco left several hours ago.
The drawer is deep and filled to the brim. I feel like a kid again, hunting for treasures in the attic as I start pulling things out and setting them on the desk before me.
A flash drive. That goes directly into my pocket. I’ll look at it later from the safety and privacy of my own home.
A notebook full of nothing but numbers. No notes to explain what they mean, just rows and rows of digits. Could they be phone numbers? Bank accounts? I have no fucking clue.
I set it aside.
There’s some jewelry, birth and death certificates. It seems Grams liked this hidden desk drawer for important things rather than an actual safe.
Which was empty, by the way.
A scrap of paper at the bottom of the drawer catches my eye.
I sit back and hold it up in the light.
Bingo.
I found her.
Chapter 9
~Archer~
“How was your day?”
I can’t stop staring at her. We’re in her little cottage, and she’s gathering her things, a light sweater and her purse, almost ready to go out on our date. She’s in a barely-there yellow sundress, perfect for the warm, late-summer evening. Her dark hair is loose and falls in waves down her back.
Southern Oregon is in the midst of an Indian summer. Or so I’ve been told at least six times today from various locals around town.
“Busy, but really good,” she says with a smile. “We finally hired an extra person at the refuge, so I get tomorrow off. It’ll be the first day off I’ve had in months, at least one that
wasn’t because of a funeral.”
“Spend it with me,” I say immediately and smile down at her when her eyes jump up to mine. “Pack an overnight bag and spend the night at my place tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll goof off together.”
“I should get some things done. I have laundry and bills to pay. I was thinking about—”
“Please.”
She sighs as if she’s waging war inside herself, and then she turns without a word and walks upstairs to her bedroom.
When she’s out of eyesight, I pump my fist in the air in celebration.
“I saw that,” she calls down, making me laugh.
“You didn’t see anything.”
Less than three minutes later, she returns with the same overnight bag she took with her to Seattle. I toss it into the back seat of my car, get her settled, and pull out of her driveway.
“Where are we going?” she asks. “And am I dressed appropriately?”
“You’re gorgeous.” I head toward town. “I thought we’d do something tonight that we used to do back in the day.”
She quirks a brow at me. “Did you?”
I feel my lips twitch. “Easy, tiger. For starters, we’re going to a high school football game. It is Friday night, after all.”
Earlier, I researched where the game is being held so it would be easy to find. I pull into a packed parking lot once we arrive.
“Small towns love their Friday night football games,” I say as I cut the engine and turn to smile at my girl. She’s not smiling in return. “What’s wrong? You used to love football.”
“I still like it.”
“My cousin Will will be thrilled to hear that.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just don’t usually come to these kinds of things. I try to blend, remember?”
“You’re a member of this community. Going to a game isn’t going to make you stand out like a sore thumb. Come on, it’ll be fun. They have hotdogs, and I’m starving. Aren’t you hungry?”
“For hotdogs?”
“They might have soft pretzels. Or nachos.”
I waggle my eyebrows and get out of the car, then walk around to open her door and take her hand to help her up.
“So, it’s a fancy date, then,” she says while batting her eyelashes. “You shouldn’t have.”
“We spent many a Friday night at the football field when we were younger,” I remind her as I link my fingers with hers and follow the crowd walking toward the gate.
“Yeah, because you were on the team, and I was a cheerleader. Attendance was required. Also, we were in high school. Here, we don’t even know the kids playing.” She stops short and blinks rapidly.
“What’s wrong?” I look in the direction she’s staring, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head and then smiles up at me. “I thought I saw something. Anyway, we’re no longer required to come to high school games.”
“Hey, it’s football.” I wink down at her, determined to have a good time tonight. “No pro teams in southern Oregon.”
“True.”
“Next!” a mom yells out. She’s wearing a Bandon Tigers sweatshirt, a pin on her chest with a photo of a player, and gold and black paint on her face. My guess is she’s the president of the PTA. “What can I getcha?”
“Four hotdogs for me,” I reply and then look down at El—Ally. “You?”
“Four?” she asks and then shakes her head. “I’ll have one hotdog and a Coke.”
“Oh, a Coke for me, too.”
The lady nods, shouts our hotdog order at the other mother filling those requests, and before long, we’re paid up and walking away with our food.
The lights are bright overhead, and the sun is starting to set. The cheerleaders are at their post on the sideline, just inside a wooden fence, smiling for the crowd.
As we walk past, I feel Ally move closer to me. I glance down in time to see her narrowing her eyes at the girls.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
We climb the bleachers and find a good spot, right in the middle of the crowd.
“For real, what happened?”
Ally takes a bite of her dog and shrugs a shoulder. “They were checking you out.”
“They’re like…sixteen.”
She shrugs again.
“I don’t go for jailbait, babe.”
“You did once.” Her voice is cool and matter-of-fact, and I can’t help but bust up laughing.
“Yeah, over you. And if I recall correctly, I was also jailbait at the time, so it doesn’t count.”
She laughs now, and I finish off one dog in two bites, then start on the next.
“You know, this isn’t a contest,” she says, watching me. “You can chew it.”
“I am.”
“How can you afford to feed yourself?”
“Good thing I’m rich.” I wink at her before taking a sip from the straw in my Coke. The game is about to start. A woman climbs the bleachers and sits next to me with a smile.
“Is this seat taken?”
“No, ma’am.”
She lays a blanket on the bench, sits, then spreads another blanket over her lap like it’s blizzarding out.
“Do you have a son playing?” she asks me.
“No, just here to enjoy the game. You?”
“That one.” She points to the field. “Number two.”
“Quarterback,” I say with a nod. “Very nice.”
“And that cheerleader,” she continues, pointing to a blond girl in the middle, “is my daughter.”
“Double the reason to be here,” I say with a nod. “That’s great.”
“They’re good kids,” she says, watching her daughter as she laughs with a friend. “I’m a single mom, so it hasn’t always been easy, but I have no complaints when it comes to them.”
“That’s great,” I say again.
“So, not married, then?” she asks, looking at my ring finger. “Sorry, I’m Bea.”
“Hi, Bea. No, I’m not married, but I’m here with my—” My what? Girlfriend? Ex-wife?
“I’m Ally,” Ally says, reaching around me to offer her hand for Bea to shake. “And I can hear you.”
“Oh, I was just making conversation,” Bea says, clearly flustered. “I certainly didn’t mean any offense.”
“Of course,” Ally says with a nod and sits back, mumbling under her breath, “Home-wrecker.”
I lean over to whisper in her ear. “Your green eye is especially green tonight, sweetheart.”
“Your blue eyes are both about to be black,” she says with a saccharine-sweet smile. “Must you flirt with anything in a skirt?”
“To be fair, she’s not wearing a skirt. And I wasn’t flirting. I was talking.”
“Hmph.”
“You know, your jealous side always did turn me on. Seems nothing’s changed in that regard.”
Her eyes are pinned to the field, but her lips turn up in a half-smile. This is a conversation we would have had before. Teasing and easy. She’s not easily swayed to jealousy, so I know she’s just giving me shit—the way she always did.
Falling into an easy cadence with her is as simple as breathing.
The game is underway, Bea keeps to herself now, and I spend the next two hours cheering for a team that isn’t mine, in a town that isn’t mine, next to the woman that is mine.
“Come on, ref, put your glasses on!” Ally yells, almost coming off her seat. “What a jerk.”
I grin down at her. “I knew you’d enjoy yourself.”
“I’d enjoy it more if that ref knew what a decent call is.” She shakes her head in disgust. “He’s not a great banker, either.”
“Excuse me?”
“The ref. He works at the bank.”
“Small towns,” I murmur with a smile, enjoying myself. She’s getting so worked up by the game, it’s hilarious to watch. “You would love watching Will play.”
“I�
��ve been,” she says and sends me a sly smile. It fills my heart to know that she’s still interested in my family after everything that went down between us. They loved her and were upset when we broke up. “I drove to San Francisco to watch him a couple of years ago. I always liked your family.”
“I know.” I swallow and watch the quarterback throw the ball. “They liked you, too. Still do.”
She nods. “Anyway, it was fun to drive down for a couple of days and watch him play. He used to remind me of you.”
“Because of the amount of food we ate?”
“That,” she says, “and your personalities. You’re both easygoing, funny. Kind of cocky.”
“Hey, I’m not cocky.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Have you met you? You’re completely cocky. But not in an asshole kind of way.”
“Uh, thanks?”
She takes my hand in hers, smiles, and then resumes watching the game. I want to cover my heart with my hand and sigh.
I have it bad. Real bad. I don’t know how we’re going to make this work, but there is no other choice. Because I’m not leaving Bandon without her. Next week or next month, I don’t care when.
“You put in a hot tub?” she asks as she stares dumbfounded at the bubbling tub out on the deck. We stepped out to listen to the surf below. “That was fast.”
“I work fast,” I reply. “It seemed like a good investment. Who wouldn’t like to sit out here in that tub, watching the ocean? If I end up using this place as a vacation rental, it’ll help lure in vacationers.”
“I would rent it,” she says and dips her hand in the water. “Is it all ready to go?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She turns and disappears into the house. I want to go after her, but my phone rings.
“Hi, Stasia,” I say.
“How’s it going?”
“Great.”
“Are you with her?”
“Yes.”
She huffs on the other end of the line. “Gee, you’re so talkative. Tell me things, Archer. Where are you? What did she say when she saw you? What are you doing now? When are you coming back to Seattle? Are you an item again?”
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