When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1)

by Simpson, Amy Leigh

  With a silent nod of agreement they went their separate ways.

  Mulling over John Westwick’s responses, Archer jotted some notes about things he wanted to compare with Charlie’s grandson.

  His eyes were heavy, his breathing even and slow making it hard to concentrate on anything but the need to recuperate from last night’s Sadie-induced sleep strike. Just when he felt his head dip there was a knock on his office door. Yet another reminder why he needed to steer clear of the gorgeous blonde distraction. Career hazard.

  “Agent Hayes, I have an Evan Westwick here to see you.”

  “You can show him in, thanks Sandy.” Another rare smile threatened when he caught himself thinking about Sal’s color commentary on Sandy’s crazy cat pictures. All the inside jokes were starting to make Archer feel like … he belonged. He’d been putting up barriers for so long he didn’t know how to deal with that.

  A young, yuppy-looking man entered Archer’s office and extended his hand. His hair was neatly combed and styled, his skin fair. He was fit but the whole presentation said one thing. Pampered.

  A pungent vapor of some expensive cologne trailed on a gust of air so poisoned it numbed Archer’s taste buds.

  “Evan Westwick,” he announced as he gripped Archer’s hand with an assertive shake.

  “Special Agent Hayes.” He motioned for Evan to sit.

  Unbuttoning the white linen sports coat he had over a powder blue Polo, Evan flipped the tails back with a grand sweeping gesture before settling into the chair and propping an ankle over his knee.

  “Thanks for coming by, I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”

  An obnoxious techno ring tone sounded from Evan’s pocket. “Ah, the love of my life. Never go anywhere without it.”

  It took Archer a second to note the it so lovingly referenced was the very fancy, seemingly gold-plated iPhone and not the person calling. “Can’t even be out of town for a few days without work hassling me. Everyone wants a piece.” He laughed a laugh that said “What can I say, I’m kind of a big deal.” And then took his time sending off a message before cramming the thing back in the too-tight pocket of his designer jeans.

  Archer bit the inside of his cheek to curb his intense and immediate dislike of the man. “What is it you do, Mr. Westwick?”

  “I’m a financial broker. I basically tell rich people where to invest their money.”

  “Difficult market right now with the economy being the way it is.”

  “Nah, the rich are still rich and want to keep it that way.”

  “I see. Well, I’m sorry about your grandfather. It must have been hard for you to hear of him passing that way.”

  “Yeah.” Evan frowned, then grimaced, like he was trying hard to look sad but couldn’t find the emotion. “Poor old gramps. This whole thing is just crazy. Have you caught the guy that did this?”

  “Not yet, that’s why I have you here—to ask you questions that might help us catch the killer.”

  “Right.”

  “Now before we start, can you tell me where you were the morning your grandfather was killed?”

  He snorted. “What, like I’m a suspect?”

  “It’s a standard question, Mr. Westwick, I hope you understand.” If this kid threw a hissy fit and stormed out, could Archer detain him? Probably not legally but the image of Evan Westwick in a holding cell held a certain appeal.

  “Pfff, I know.” Wriggling his phone from the shrink-wrapped denim, Evan made a display of checking his calendar. “Umm, last weekend I was in New York. You can check with the airline, and I have receipts from a business dinner with a client from the night before. And my wife will vouch for me.”

  Archer scrawled some information on his notepad. Evan recrossed his legs, laced his fingers over his knee. He looked confident, but Archer could sense his nerves brewing. “Were you and your grandfather close?”

  “Very.” His foot jittered.

  “Did you talk often?”

  “As often as we could. Work keeps me really busy.”

  “We’ve established that. When was the last time you spoke with him?”

  “Not that long ago.” He batted the comment away. “Honestly, I can’t remember exactly when it was.”

  Archer nodded. “Your father told us that you haven’t spoken to your grandfather in three years. He said you were busy with work and that you two drifted apart after your family moved to the Chicago area.”

  “Right, well …” Blood filled his cheeks. “W—We used to be close when I was a kid and stuff.”

  Evan started to squirm, and even though it was probably unnecessary, Archer was enjoying himself. He jotted a few more things down.

  “What are you writing?” His body lurched and his head craned awkwardly in an attempt to see Archer’s notepad.

  Archer smiled and kept on writing. “Just notes. I’ll be right with you.”

  After a full minute Evan broke. “Listen, I felt bad for not having a lot of contact with him. And now he’s dead and I’ll never be able to talk to him again. You think that makes me feel good to admit that?”

  Archer ignored his little meltdown. “Did your grandpa ever tell you any stories when you were a kid?”

  “Uhhh, yeah. He told me all kinds of cool stuff about his time overseas. Don’t all grandpas do that? What’s that got to do with anything? This is ridiculous.”

  “Do you remember specifics about anything that might make someone want to hurt your grandpa or seek revenge?”

  “No. Listen, Gramps had a couple tough breaks but he got over it. He was smart and successful. Why would anyone care about what happened way back then? I bet whoever killed him was just after his money or something.”

  “Only he didn’t own anything exceptionally valuable. In fact, most people that crossed him probably wouldn’t have even known how wealthy he was. The only people who knew about his assets aside from his lawyer, were you and your family.”

  “I don’t think I appreciate what you’re implying. Your job is to catch the killer. Not harass the family.” Evan snarled but it all sounded like whining.

  Archer calmed the urge to scold Evan for his tantrum. Too bad his father had already given Evan’s alibi and so far it had checked out. What Archer wouldn’t give to teach this prick a lesson by giving him a taste of life behind bars.

  Chapter 17

  Sadie Carson

  The next few days went by in a haze of bedpans and crosswords, and Sadie felt like things were finally getting back to normal. She’d gone back to taking care of Andy, who was recovering well from his surgery, and Elsie was just as sweet and spunky as ever.

  Sadie was settling in at home, looking forward to date night with Netflix, when she remembered her mother’s call switching their weekly family dinner to tonight at a restaurant down the street.

  If it was at her parents’ house as usual, she would have endured her mother’s snide remarks and stayed in her sweats—it was just one of those days. But riling her mother in a public forum was essentially like being tarred and feathered, so she pulled a bohemian crocheted tank with tiered layers, army green cuffed shorts, and bronze sandals from her closet. Not dressy, but with a few accessories it would suffice.

  She’d been in a funk all week. Luckily, after meeting with Charlie’s lawyer tomorrow morning she’d have the day to herself. The concept of a day off should have been met with relief, instead some weighty uncertainty made her feel like everything in her life was all wrong. Aside from Charlie being gone, nothing was different, and she’d never felt discontented in the past, so why now?

  “Archer.” His name slipped from her lips before she could snatch it back. It hadn’t escaped her attention that he’d been notably absent, and as each day passed their relationship grew more twisted and confused in her
head.

  Relationship? That probably wasn’t the right word to define it, but that was the problem. There was no defining it. There wasn’t an it to define. “Sheesh, Sadie, get a grip, he was just doing his job.” But even as she muttered the words an odd pang resonated in her chest.

  She tugged at her overstretched hair band, releasing her hair from its topknot so the long wavy mess spilled down her back. Walking toward the door, she stopped to stare at her reflection. Yep, her hair was a mess, but she didn’t care. Her life was a mess, and if she couldn’t find the energy to fix that, her hair was the least of her problems. Five years was a long time to feel numb.

  Maybe what she needed was a distraction. One that wasn’t tall and dangerous and guaranteed to mutilate her heart all over again.

  It was one of those picturesque fall days. The warm breeze ruffled the fiery leaves still clinging to branches, kicked up the crunchy brown ones off the ground, all creating a symphony of sound. The fresh scent of rain turned the air into something pure and cleansing. Drawing in a refreshing breath, Sadie felt awash with peace and decided to stock up on some for later by walking to the restaurant.

  Within five minutes, she strolled up to her parents’ favorite place. She scanned the tables, drawn to someone standing and motioning to her from a corner booth.

  No. Way.

  There was no escaping the inevitable. Resigned, she walked stiffly to meet Eric Wilson, her mother’s Sunday school setup.

  The extra stores of peace were nowhere to be found. Her face must have said it all because Eric’s enthusiasm dimmed. “Uh oh,” was all he said.

  “She’s a diabolical genius.” Sadie shook her head. “How’d she do it? Lemme guess. She told you I asked for your number. And then you got a text message from me, setting this whole thing up?”

  Eric’s eyes widened. “So, she’s done this before?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “How’d that turn out?”

  “For whom, my mother or my date?”

  “Both.”

  “Multiple casualties.” Sadie smiled.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his smooth chin, and then he smiled, a dimple tapped into his right cheek. “Well, I am a decently nice guy, and no one has ever threatened bodily harm over my table manners. So I know now that this wasn’t your idea, but since we’re here, and since eating isn’t just enjoyable but also necessary for survival, maybe I can still buy you dinner?” She hesitated, he persisted. “You can tell your mother you left, or anything you want really. I’ll back your story.” His blue-eyed gaze was steady and sincere.

  Sadie sighed. The thing was, he was nice. They’d both been blindsided by her mother’s trickery, and the last thing she wanted to do was subject Eric to any more humiliation. “What if we just do an appetizer, that okay?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They sat for about an hour snacking on St. Louis’s famous toasted ravioli and exchanging small talk. She had to admit, she wasn’t having a bad time. Eric was charming and engaging. A pleasant distraction. Hadn’t she just thought she needed one of those?

  “Well, again, I’m sorry about my mom. She tends to go overboard, but she means well.” Sadie spoke as graciously about her mother’s manipulation as she could muster.

  “She’s totally gonna get it, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, you better believe it.” She winked.

  He laughed. “I’ll see you to your car.”

  “Actually, I walked. I live close by. Thanks again.”

  “Let me at least drive you home.”

  “It’s really not far.”

  “I insist.”

  Not wanting to duke it out, Sadie let him escort her to his sleek black Acura. She pointed where to go, and one minute later he pulled into her lot.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

  Smiling, she reached for the door handle.

  Eric’s gentle touch on her arm stopped her. “Do you think maybe we could do this again sometime? I mean you and me, no stealthy matchmaker.”

  She looked to where his hand rested on her forearm. She didn’t feel anything. Not a single blip of awareness. Closing her eyes for a second, she had to be sure.

  Suddenly the hand wasn’t Eric’s—it was Archer’s. And that was all it took for her heart to quicken. For a blush of heat to tint her skin. Even just the memory of his touch gave her a hot flash. How pathetic was that?

  It wasn’t Eric’s fault, it was hers. And though she could use a distraction, she wouldn’t be cruel and string him along.

  When she opened her eyes mere moments later, Eric had misread the signs. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, smooth fingers brushing back her rebel waves. Giving him a tight smile, she shied away before he did something worse, like lean in for a kiss she wouldn’t be reciprocating. “I’m sorry, Eric, you really are a nice guy …” She hesitated, calling upon all the tact she could muster. “And I had a good time tonight. I—I just don’t want to lead you on when I can tell this,” she motioned between them, “isn’t going to go anywhere beyond friendship.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, seeming more curious than hurt.

  He would be so safe, so easy to love. Maybe she was destined to be alone. And maybe, in some twisted way, that meant she wasn’t holding on to the past for nothing. “I just … do.” Shrugging, she reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  A subdued smile tipped his lips ever so slightly. His eyes lifted. “Don’t be.”

  With nothing else to say, she got out and started toward her door.

  Boy, her mother had it coming!

  “Sadie.” Turning back, Sadie craned her head to view Eric through the open window. “He’s a lucky guy.”

  And with that he drove away.

  What in the world? Who’s a lucky guy? Had her mother told him about—no. She wouldn’t cross that line.

  Sadie trudged toward her door. Ugh. Was there a happy ending somewhere in her future, or was she destined to always want what she couldn’t have?

  “Archer?” Speak of the devil. All six feet four inches of the rock-solid man in question was perched on her doorstep. Her heart took off, awareness racing over her skin like a pulse of electricity.

  Eric had seen Archer waiting for her. The clarity of his parting comment clicked into place. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a date.” He spat, propelling to his feet. She blocked his path. The flustered rise of color on his neck and the terse grind of his jaw were actually a little flattering.

  She tried not to smile, but when she looked up at his scowling face, she couldn’t help it. “I didn’t have a date. Well … I did, but I was supposed to meet my family, and my mom …” Sadie sighed. “Let’s just say that if she redirects half the effort she puts into scheming and matchmaking into her fund-raisers, she’ll make millions.”

  He didn’t speak—the hard bind of his features easing only slightly.

  Her amusement vanished. Matching his taut brow, she crossed her arms over her chest. What right did he have to be mad? Like he’d staked some sort of claim? Her short little fuse lit.

  “What if I had been on a date? I can go on a date. I’m dateable.” She cocked her head to one side and turned up her nose, waiting. “Well?”

  Still nothing. He had his FBI mask on. Ruthlessly contained. Turning it off and on, pulling her strings to suit his purpose. She’d already established she didn’t need any more strings.

  “Forget it.” She pushed past him, stormed up to her door, shoved the key in the lock and—

  “Sadie.”

  Her hand stilled. She could feel him right behind her, the wild racing of her heart doubling when his strong hands gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  She was exp
ecting to see a physical hunger from a man like Archer but was completely blindsided by the unveiled emotion in his warm, caramel gaze. Her breathing slammed to a halt. Though she felt like she couldn’t possibly will herself to move an inch, they were somehow hovering a whisper away. His breath warming her face, his firm sensual lips full of invitation. She sucked in a sharp breath, striving to feed oxygen to her muddled brain.

  Holy moly. Don’t pass out.

  Things got dizzy. Her thoughts were a torrent. Logic or longing, head versus heart, past and present, colliding in a free-for-all. She involuntarily licked her lips. “Archer, I—”

  Her words were cut off at the source when he crushed his mouth over hers, taking her lips—no, consuming them. And the earth spun off course.

  Oh … sweet … heaven …

  There was no finesse, no practiced seduction. No pretense. Just savage intensity and desperation. Raw, honest, conflicted—a reflection of everything she was feeling. It was perfect.

  She felt each of his fingers press against her low back, then fist her shirt, pressing her closer. The strength of his lips drew her in, enticing every nerve in her body to ignite from the spark of fire descending her spine.

  Enrapt by the moment, she lost her head. Her last shred of restraint ripped loose, and she gave in completely, searching and tasting the sweetest bliss this side of heaven as she melted into him. She traced the rough, stubbled planes of his face, then wove her fingers into his silky hair, lightly scoring his scalp when he surrendered a groan. Intensifying the kiss, she laid herself bare, exposing her need. She relished in his trembling response, breathing in the mind-bending scent of his heated skin.

  As one kiss overlapped with the next, Sadie’s mind rushed past all the doubts and embraced the hypnotic feeling of being in Archer’s strong arms, feasting on his delicious lips, feeling free, not knowing if she’d ever have the strength to let go.