by Lia Riley
“For our last number we’re going to slow things down,” the lead singer crooned as a guitar started an intro.
A couple swayed a few feet away as the rest of the band joined in, the song a love ballad. Envy sucked. He wanted to share so much more than his bed with Edie. He wanted quiet moments too. He’d grown up without parents. His big brothers and Grandma loved him, but he’d never had the one thing Edie brought to his life. Tenderness. Peace. The kind that only comes when someone believes in your potential.
Edie didn’t want him just for a good time, she saw deeper down to the man he was only now beginning to recognize inside. The man he’d been running from for years, scared as hell, which was stupid. What was frightening about stepping up and shouldering responsibility? Meaningless fun grew empty after a while.
A leopard might not be able to change its spots, but it could quit running aimlessly around the jungle, chasing any tail in sight. He wanted purpose. And the person who’d grown to mean more to him than anyone was right there.
Her gaze shifted, scanning the crowd, her left eyebrow raising a fraction as if sensing a stare. When her eyes finally locked on his, he started walking in her direction. Margot’s mouth dropped and she turned away, busying herself with wiping down a spotless counter.
“Can I talk to you?” he said to Edie. “Alone?” When Grandma called to say that a package arrived in the mail, he took it as a sign to stop screwing around. He collected the small box, saddled up Philomena, and drove into town to go get the girl.
Her pupils dilated even as her spine stiffened. “I can’t. I’m working.”
Looked like the girl didn’t want to be caught. The cold tone didn’t match the hot flash in her gaze though. Something didn’t add up.
He braced his hands on the counter. “It’s important.”
Her next breath lifted her small, sweet breasts, and she bit the corner of her lower lip before turning away. “Tomorrow is a big day. And . . . and . . . and . . .” She rubbed her temples. “I have a migraine coming on. I need to rest.”
Margot glanced over. “You don’t feel good? I was going to stay with you tonight, but if you’re feeling sick, I’ll go home.”
“It’s okay,” Edie said glancing between them uncertainly.
Archer’s jaw tightened. Edie was a terrible liar. There was no headache. Why was she doing this? This wasn’t just withdrawing after sex. Something else was in play, but what? He’d fallen asleep with her wrapped, warm and willing, in his arms and woken to her frozen and shut down.
“Can you give me a ride home?” Margot asked him. “I live right by you and don’t want to put out Edie if she’s not well.”
Shit. That’s the last thing he wanted to do. “Uh—”
“Yes,” Eden forced a bright smile. “That sounds like a great idea.”
The band finished and began dismantling the stage as the crowd faded with happy laughter, disappearing into the night.
Margot grabbed her bag and approached. “I’m all set.”
“Great,” Archer said as Edie waved goodbye to them both, refusing to make eye contact. He couldn’t linger, not now that he had a responsibility. “Let’s roll. And, you, I’ll call you tomorrow.” And from the way Edie flinched, it sounded like she took it as a threat.
He placed the small white box on the counter between them. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” She reached out, almost but not quite touching the package.
He leaned in and said, so low that only she could hear, “You deserve only good things in life—this is just a small reminder.”
“Archer.” She pleaded with her eyes. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m blowing so hot and cold. It’s just that there’s a lot going on for me at the moment.”
“And I’m here, the minute you are ready to let me in. Say the word. You don’t have to face anything alone.” He tapped the box. “I hope this helps you see that.”
MARGOT DIDN’T SHOW up for work the next morning. “Strange,” Edie muttered to herself, checking her phone for the third time. No new messages. With her wayward curls and expressive brown eyes, Margot was very pretty, but only eighteen. Archer wouldn’t have . . . no that’s impossible. But then who’d stuck up the big “Keep Out” sign? Yes. She’d essentially gone and made herself the old lady who shouts, “Get off my lawn.” And all because of Reggie.
Wait a second . . . because of Reggie?
What a stupid notion. Why throw away a chance at something that made her happy because she had given someone else power? Her ex-fiancé was a thousand miles away and here she was, dancing to his tune, causing herself misery because she was afraid. Afraid that Archer wouldn’t believe her. Afraid that he would judge her and find her lacking. Afraid that in the end, he’d turn away, think she was deficient, realize that despite everything she was still Eden the Ew. Unworthy of love.
Eden took a cherry pie out of the oven and slammed it on the cooling racks. She’d run so far from her old life, yet hadn’t gone in a different, better direction. Instead, it was like she was on a track and circled back to places she never wanted to be again.
It was time to stop letting other people define her. She settled down in Brightwater because she craved a simple life.
When did simple get so hard?
Sure, maybe Archer would judge her if the photo came out, but she’d already judged him by not being open and for his own sexual past. Shouldn’t he at least have an opportunity to be the good guy, the guy that she knew in her heart he was, the kindhearted man who gave her a Lifesaver in a diner and a ride when she was lost?
She stared at the wall clock, thinking, and not thinking, just feeling. From the start, her gut trusted Archer; it was her head that kept messing things up. Why couldn’t she believe her instincts? Every time she did, they pushed her in the right direction. It was her head that had said “Marry Reggie.” Her heart had said, “Um, this seems like a terrible idea.”
It was her heart that said, “Go to Brightwater.” And, “Start a coffee shop.”
On both accounts she had no regrets.
The shop was set to open in ten minutes and still no sign of Margot. She couldn’t be with Archer, but still, she’d seemed responsible and eager. Hopefully nothing was the matter. Edie called the girl’s phone and it rang and rang. Just before hanging up, she answered, a little groggy. “Hello?”
“Margot? It’s Edie.” There was a pause. Edie gripped the phone harder. “Margot?”
“Oh crap, the time! I’m sorry, I’m still in bed.” She sounded more awake, and more than a little alarmed. “Last night was so crazy. There was the accident, and then with the medication I slept way later than I thought, but the—”
“Accident?” Edie said sharply. “What accident?”
“Didn’t you hear? We were hit, Archer and I on the drive home. A drunk driver ran a four-way stop near the farm.”
“What? Are you . . . is he?”
“We’re both fine by some miracle. I sprained my arm. My face looks worse, but it will be better.”
“Margot, I’m so sorry. And Archer?”
“I think he bruised a few ribs, but I’m not sure, I was pretty out of it. His brother Sawyer got me checked out and then took me home. Annie is pretty angry with me. She thinks I was out messing around with Archer or something. But I wasn’t, you know that, right? I mean, the guy is crazy about you. Totally bonkers.”
“I . . .” Edie stared ahead, unseeing. Strange to hear another person confirm what her heart had known for some time.
“He can’t even take his eyes off you for a second if you’re in the same room.”
“I . . . I well I’m glad you are okay. That all sounds terrifying. Please don’t worry about the shop. Everything will be fine, focus on getting yourself better.”
“I’m going to be in a sling for a bit so I can’t work the espresso machine, but I can bus tables and wipe counters with one hand.”
“Let’s see how you feel after a couple days.”
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br /> “Okay.” Margot let out a big yawn. “Sorry, the codeine has done a number on me.”
“That’s fine. Get some sleep.”
“M’kay,” Margot murmured, sounding drowsy again. “And you should prolly go see Archer. I’m sure he feels bad too and doesn’t have anyone to look after him.”
“Good night, or morning,” Edie said.
Hanging up, she walked slowly to the front door. The sign was still set to closed and it was two minutes before opening. Instead of flipping it over she pulled the blinds.
Her heart said, “What are you waiting for?”
She locked up, turned off the lights, and went upstairs. She opened her underwear drawer and her heart said, “Don’t even think about the cotton. Lace. Matching set.”
She went with white, classic and delicate. Doing up the bra clasp felt like she was preparing for battle. And she was in some ways—with herself. Her head was not happy, it made loud disapproving noises, ready to say “I told you so” if this went badly.
She found a light summer dress, again in white, with capped sleeves, a slight flare in the skirt and a fitted waist. Paired with sandals and a lightweight wrap to keep away any chill, she was ready for anything.
Enough of this seesaw. Time to see Archer and figure out once and for all, if she was going to be in or out. Because otherwise this tug of war within her would drive her mad.
The small white box was on the coffee table. She’d chickened out of opening it last night. What could it be? All night she had tossed and turned, wondering what could be inside, but dreading it as if it were some sort of Pandora’s Box—a ridiculous notion. “After all,” she huffed to herself, sitting on the couch to tear open the packing tape, “what was at the bottom of that box?”
Hope.
The same hope alighting inside her as she lifted the lid, peering inside. What nestled in the tissue paper was beyond anything that she could have imagined. A king’s ransom couldn’t mean more.
She pulled out a small carved ballerina, the exact match to the one that had long ago gone missing. How did he find her? She rose and walked to her old music box, opening it up and screwing her in. The fit was perfect. Winding the box, the tune “Edelweiss” filled the quiet room as the ballerina slowly spun.
Archer hadn’t just given her hope for the future; he’d helped her find a shred of peace with the past.
Chapter Seventeen
ARCHER ROLLED OVER with a grimace. He’d been advised to breathe deeply but fuck did it hurt. Black and blue mottling spread across his rib cage. He rubbed his face with a groan. Last night all he’d wanted to do was reconnect with Edie. Instead, his ass nearly got sent packing to the Pearly Gates. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Here’s a harp and halo—try not to swear.
Shit.
If anything good came out of last night’s accident, it was the realization that life is fragile and can be snuffed out at any second. Was he making the right choices? Yes and no. Working the ranch was good, better than good. Great. But he needed more in his life than work.
A quiet knock came on the door. “Archer?”
Edie? He bolted upright. Here at his place? He stared around his small bare studio. The walls were plywood and looked half assed. This was a bachelor flop house, a place to crash when he wasn’t couch surfing with buddies or bed hopping with random one-night stands. No one but him ever spent any time here.
The door cracked opened. “Hey,” she whispered. “Are you—oh . . .” She covered a hand over her mouth. “Oh God. Look at you.”
“Don’t want to.” He breathed hard, hard enough it caused a stabbing pain and yet a rush of pleasure. She was here.
She held up a pie and thermos. “I decided to keep the store closed after hearing about the accident. I brought you a pie and some fresh coffee.”
“Great.” That was a typical sweet Edie gesture, and probably goddamn delicious. But right now he hungered for one thing. Her touch.
“Set that stuff on the table and come closer,” he said.
She glanced uncertainly at the pie tin. “It’s bourbon pecan, your favorite.”
“Sounds good, but you’re my favorite.”
She set the pie and coffee down, fidgeting with her skirt.
“Hey you, what’s up?”
When she raised her gaze, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Your gift.”
Shit. What had he done? “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Sorry?” She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “That was the nicest, sweetest, most thoughtful gift I’ve received in my whole life.”
A two-inch wooden ballerina? Damn. He couldn’t wait to really knock her socks off.
“Where in the world did you find it?”
“I wrote to a specialty music-box shop on the coast. After giving a description, they emailed a few pictures and once I saw yours it was straightforward.” It had actually been a rare stroke of luck according to the shopkeeper. The man had been chuckling at the serendipity.
“You are a good man, Archer Kane. The best of men.” She reached out and lightly stroked his cheek. “What this is between us, when we’re together, when you touch me, I didn’t know it could be this way, at least in real life.”
He reached up and held her wrist. “What we share is the simplest thing in the world, Freckles. And maybe the most complicated.”
“Before anything else, I have to show you something.” Her smile faded. “Something bad.”
His stomach took a nosedive. “Is this the nothing that is something? What’s made you freeze me out the last few days?”
She nodded, lines cutting across her forehead. “It’s bad and has the potential to go really bad. Possibly nuclear.”
“Then come snuggle up and tell me everything.” He patted the mattress.
Her eyes narrowed. “Will I hurt you?”
“I’ve had worse.” He laughed, wincing. “Not holding you hurts worse than a bruised rib.”
“What if I get you something? A pain reliever? A glass of water? A cup of tea?” She cocked a brow, examining his nearly bare counter. “A shot of Jack Daniel’s?”
He scooted over on the mattress and plumped the adjacent pillow. She’d feel better once she got whatever was eating at her off her chest. “You. Here. Now. No bullshit.”
Edie crawled in beside him and couldn’t restrain a deep inhalation. The bed smelled incredible, like the man who was beside her. Woodsy. Spicy. Undeniably male. No cologne in the world could come close to capturing it.
He turned to face her and his features softened, hard to put a finger on exactly how, because the strong jaw and bold features remained the same. No, it was the eyes. His bright green gaze was overwhelmingly caring, grateful even. She didn’t deserve it, not given her recent behavior.
“Come in close,” he murmured, gathering her in, brushing his lips over the top of her ear.
She had to do it. She had to tell him the awful truth, reveal herself as a subject of mockery. “My ex-fiancé, Reggie, threatened me.”
The tenderness extinguished. Archer was a powerfully built man, but in this moment, he felt like a giant. Six feet of pure muscled anger. “What the fuck has that asshole done?”
She sniffled and removed her phone from her purse, handing it over. “The first text came the day you and I made love.”
His gaze locked with hers and she held it, even as the blush tore across her cheeks. They had made love; there was no better description. It had been hot, dirty sex, but so much more. She’d made herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life. And it seemed like he did too.
When he looked at Reggie’s image, what would he think, what would he say? There were the reactions she feared, disgust and revulsion, but what did she hope for? When his eyes dropped to the screen, it was impossible to get a handle on his response. His normally expressive features shuttered into an impassive mask.
Her pulse pounded out the seconds, twelve . . . thirteen . . . fourte
en . . . What is he thinking?
Finally, after an eternity, he raised his gaze to her. “I’ve never wanted to kill a man. Never understood how a person could get to that point. But I do now. All I want to do is get my truck from the shop, drive across the country nonstop, find that scumbag, and throw him off a bridge.”
She reached and set her hand over his clenched fist. “The woman in the photo, that’s not me.”
He gave her a surprised look. “Of course not. I have your body memorized. That woman doesn’t have a single one of your gorgeous freckles.” He opened his hand and encircled hers. “And even if that had been you, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not to me. Not in a million years. A woman is entitled to do what she likes in the bedroom with the man of her choosing, and not be photographed and threatened by the situation.”
Hot tears gathered in her eyes. This, this was the reaction she hoped for, that she had convinced herself wouldn’t be possible.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m not going to give him the money, and I think that he’s going to make good on his threat.”
“Fuck him,” Archer said fiercely. “I don’t know how, but the truth will come out. He won’t win. Guys like him never do.”
“Guys like him win all the time.” Edie’s voice quavered. “That’s why Wall Street is such a cesspool.”
“He won’t win this time,” he said. “Whatever it takes, I’ll protect you. You don’t deserve a single one of those little lines on your forehead. You deserve nothing but the best life has to offer. And in the future, if you ever need me, don’t hide—tell me and I’ll be there. I’ll always be there. I’ll always trust you.”
She should say thank you. She should say what a relief it was to hear him say everything that made her heart beat faster. But words wouldn’t do in this moment. Instead, she kissed him with every inch of her body and soul.
He stifled a moan and slung an arm around her pulling her close, dragging his hand in her hair, hauling her against him until their teeth knocked and they laughed in each other’s mouths. Seconds past, or maybe they were lifetimes. The sun could have exploded and the solar system ended in this infinite moment.