She stopped inches away and gently touched his forearm, praying for reinforcement in her suddenly weak knees. “What happened?”
His eyes twinkled and his hands skimmed up her hips with the barest caress, resting at her waist as if he had every right to touch her with such familiarity. Like she was his. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll explain.” His thumbs traced absent circles over her stomach, his large hands nearly encompassing her completely. The tension he’d held in his body seeming to dissolve the moment he touched her.
Suppressing a shiver, she forced herself to step past him and out of his possessive hold, willing her heart to resume an acceptable resting rate. She dropped her purse to the floor and sat at the table, anxious for an explanation.
Taking his time, he wandered into the kitchen and retrieved two glasses. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Can you just come over here and tell me what happened first?”
He chuckled, filled the glasses with water and made his way to the set table. “I thought I’d tell you while we ate dinner. I hope you like Italian.” Archer opened some kind of takeout tray and dished pasta onto their plates. Whatever it was, the rich, creamy aroma danced from the plate and awakened her taste buds for something other than the prime hunk of man meat at her left.
Answers first, food later. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and glared her impatience.
“Okay, okay. I was following a lead we had on Charlie’s case. I went to question this old guy in a pretty bad part of town about two hours before our date.” He paused for a second, took a bite, and then motioned toward her plate with his fork. “You should eat that before it gets cold.”
“Stop stalling. And don’t leave anything out.”
“Well.” He swallowed, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I interrupted some kids stealing from the guy. When I got to the back room they started shooting, and they got away while I tended to the old guy’s bullet in the stomach.”
Sadie heard herself gasp—cringing at how much the sound resembled her mother.
“There’s more. I tried to call for backup, but my phone wouldn’t work. I was by myself, the guy was bleeding out, the punks were getting away … so I picked him up and raced to the hospital.”
“Did you get there in time? Did he bleed out? Is he okay?”
Chewing, he nodded. “I tied a sheet around his stomach to keep pressure on the wound.”
“Good thinking.” Her panic eased.
His laughter played like a smooth riff of an old jazz song, wooing her senses despite her determination to resist the pull.
“I’m not done. Settle down and eat your dinner.”
Halfheartedly complying, Sadie picked up her fork and twirled her pasta.
“Anyways, I hadn’t realized that I’d been hit, too.”
“You got shot!” Her fork dropped out of her hand and clanked against the plate.
“Perhaps we should take a brief intermission from the story.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Archer tapped his mouth. “Let’s see, where was I? I can’t remember.” She rolled her eyes.
He took another big forkful and chewed slowly, torturing her with his sauntering pace.
“Oh, yes. I was shot. I woke up a few hours later in the ER. From all the blood I’d lost, they thought the bullet severed my brachial artery, but when they got me back for surgery, they found it was just barely nicked. Sewed me up, good as new.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “But when I tried to call you, repeatedly, you didn’t answer. I think that about brings us up to speed.” He took another bite and pointed back towards her plate, mumbling, his mouth full, “You really should eat. You look a little faint.”
“That’s because you just told me you were shot!”
Swallowing the bite, he shrugged again, unfazed. “It wasn’t the first time.”
He continued to eat, but Sadie’s appetite had vanished.
It wasn’t the first time.
How many times before now? How many more times until—
“So, as far as excuses go, I did have a pretty good one for standing you up.” His smile was so sweet she had to stop herself from leaning across the table to have a taste.
He’s okay. It’s just a flesh wound.
The tension in Sadie’s shoulders finally waned. She picked up her fork and took her first bite of pasta. Her eyes widened, the creamy sauce ripe with robust flavors and a none too subtle zip of spice.
“Pretty good, right?” He polished off his last bite and dished himself another heaping plate.
“Mmm.” Sadie dug in. “So good if you weren’t hurt I might wrestle you for the last helping.”
“Rain check.” He reached over, swept his thumb over a dab of sauce she’d been about to lick from the corner of her mouth.
She looked up at him as a quiet moment settled in.
“So, do you forgive me?” His hand fell away, his voice was as warm and coaxing as the honey in his eyes.
Swallowing the suddenly stony mass of noodles in her mouth she nodded, not trusting her voice. Having lied to herself until this moment of excruciating clarity, the truth slammed into her like a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus.
She had feelings for him. Real feelings. Aww, crud.
It was wrong, and reckless. Just plain bad. Bad, Sadie, bad.
The revelation shifted her mood, and she realized she was afraid, maybe even terrified. She was falling for a man who constantly put his life on the line for his job. The risk assessment in her buzzkill brain signaled a “mayday.” Falling was all fun and thrills until you crashed into reality at the bottom. And this baby was on a crash course for a fatal landing.
Twin lines furrowed Archer’s brows. He opened his mouth to say something when his phone rang. “Sorry, let me just turn that off.”
“Go ahead and get it, I, uh … need to use the restroom.” Sadie excused herself—grateful for a chance to pull it together.
Behind the closed door she glared at the mirror.
What is wrong with you? Just stop. You won’t survive this. Closing her eyes for a moment, she prayed for strength to do what needed to be done.
And then since she really didn’t need to use the bathroom, she teased the wavy mess of her hair away from her face, freed another button on the completely unsexy plaid, button up shirt she’d carelessly paired with dark denim cutoffs and then fortified herself with several deep breaths before making her way out to Archer—to end this ridiculous infatuation before it got any worse.
“How much longer does he have? … I’d come right now but I’d don’t have a car, there was, uhh, an incident yesterday and … I know, I’m sorry, I should have called you back sooner. I just didn’t realize. Let me try and figure this out … Okay, bye.” Archer hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, startling when Sadie spoke.
“Everything all right?” She met him where he stood.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Not really. Apparently my dad’s been sick for a couple weeks and took a bad turn. They’re not sure he’s gonna make it through the night.”
The temptation to lean into his chest and comfort him just about propelled her forward, but she held back. Bereavement and deathbeds had sort of become her specialty. But in this case, with this man, she was at a loss. And she feared if she touched him, the tight rope she was so precariously balancing on would snap. She dipped her chin, lifted her eyes to meet his downcast gaze. “You need to be there. Where is he?”
“That’s the problem. Because of the shooting my car was taken in for cleaning, so I don’t have transportation. He’s in some small town near Kansas City.”
Sadie glanced at the clock. It was only seven thirty and she didn’t have to work tomorrow. “Let’s go.”
“What?” He looked up, his eyes swimming with uncertainty and something else she couldn’t identify.
“You probably shouldn’t be driving anyway. I’ll take you.” It was the right thing to do. It might be his last chance for closure.
“Sadie.” His voice grew achingly tender. “You really don’t have to—”
“Trust me, if you don’t go, you’ll regret it.” As she spoke, his eyes went melty. And she realized right then what she’d just signed herself up for.
A cozy little road trip for two.
Brilliant. So much for her usually reliable self-preservation reflex. Oh yeah, and that guard she’d been building around her heart? Archer was suddenly her very own Clark Gable from It Happened One Night, tearing down her “walls of Jericho.”
Was he really what he seemed? The yummy bad boy you can’t help but crave somehow remarkably paired with a huge tender heart? She thought about the mischief in his slightly crooked smile. The sincerity in those deeply haunted eyes that missed nothing. The way his initially rusty laugh was now smooth and easy. Was it just for her? Sure, she was probably naive, but who wouldn’t be defenseless against someone as potent as Archer Hayes? And well, he might be toxic, but if she was going to crash and burn, he was, without a doubt, the right kind of wrong.
“So, umm … go pack your stuff. I’ll run into my place to grab a few things, and then we’ll hit the road.”
Strong hands cupped her face, the pads of his callused thumbs rasped over her cheeks, making her shiver. She ceased breathing as he pressed his lips firmly to her forehead before rushing off to his room and returning moments later with a small duffel bag. He grabbed his phone and called his mom as they made their way to Sadie’s car.
Concentrating on sedating her nerves she barely registered his hesitation. She turned to where Archer had stopped a few feet away, shoving his phone in his pocket, a strange expression etched in his rugged and scarred brow.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where’s the Camaro?” He stepped forward and tossed his bag into the back seat of her Jeep.
“Oh, right. My dad’s doing some work on it. Oil change, tune-up, that kinda thing.” Truthfully, she was relieved she didn’t have it. Archer in the Camaro was confusing. Kind of like inviting your ex and your boyfriend on the side, to your wedding to another man. A twisted collision of past, present, and future that no one but God himself could untangle.
Archer looked like he wanted to say something but buckled in and settled with, “I see.”
They rode to her condo without conversation. Archer was searching the name of the hospital his mom had given him for directions, and Sadie was trying to convince herself this wasn’t a horrible idea.
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” She pulled to a stop in the parking lot, leaving everything in the car save the key to her front door.
“Take your time.”
Chapter 22
The click of the deadbolt jackknifed his pulse. His hand froze on the filmy pair of ice blue panties he’d lifted from the laundry basket. He swore under his breath, watching the enticing scrap of nylon flutter back into the bin at his feet and tucked his body behind a garment bag and into the shadowed corner of her closet.
Unlike his search at the old man’s place, he had to be careful not to disturb anything here. Though part of him was tempted to snatch those panties as a souvenir. Then again, he’d rather have firsthand knowledge of her scent than some unsatisfying memento.
She’d barely been gone an hour after running out the door like her hair was on fire and he’d yet to find any clue to where it was hidden. He had to find it. There was no other option. And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get it.
She knew something. He just knew she did. Other than snooping in her drawers and imagining her wearing some of his favorite items, the search had been a bust. Not a single damn thing, and now he was hiding in her freaking closet. He cursed again, feeling his adrenaline surge and his hands shake as the sound of her approach came down the hallway toward the bedroom.
He couldn’t risk taking a peek, but he swore he could smell her the second she entered the room like a blood hound honing in, hunger raging through him with a rabid madness that infected his logic.
Hearing her rummaging around and mumbling to herself, his blood burned hotter imagining what she might be doing. Was she undressing? Getting ready for bed?
His mind raced ahead and filled in the possibilities. Getting caught here had not been the plan for tonight. But maybe, just maybe, this could work to his advantage. The night was young enough, and she was alone. Vulnerable. His for the taking. He could slake his thirst for her, and get the answers he so desperately needed. Her feistiness, he decided, would be fun. At some point she’d probably have to meet her untimely end, but those thoughts were for later. Right now he had a few more pressing matters. He heard the rasp of a zipper.
Oh yeah. A smile turned his lips. It was going to be a good night.
Chapter 23
Sadie Carson
What would she need? Sadie scurried around aimlessly, pacing like some scatterbrained half-wit who didn’t know the layout of her own room. She went from worried to excited to terrified in the short leap from one neurotic nerve to the next.
“Okay, concentrate.” Taking a deep breath she started grabbing the absolute musts first: toothbrush, toothpaste, cosmetics bag, and underwear. And then she realized as she shoved the items in her bag that she had picked her prettiest matching lingerie set. The barely there triangles of sheer pink lace were completely impractical but sexy enough to give the wearer their own secret thrill. There was absolutely no way Archer would be seeing them, but in the impossible incidence that he might somehow catch a peek of her delicates at least he wouldn’t stumble upon an awkward pair of last-resort granny panties. She winced. Or the cheeky Supergirl briefs she was currently sporting. Classy.
She whipped her Shakira-wild hair into a pony tail and breathed out a nervous laugh at her indiscriminate thoughts before tossing another pretty pair into the bag for no apparent reason. The floor creaked, though not where she was standing. Old building. Shoddy construction. Whatever. She stepped into her closet, shifting to one side to let the bedroom light illuminate the space large enough to need, at the very least, a bulb on a string but hadn’t come with one. Unnecessary home upgrades weren’t so much on her list these days.
Reminding herself that Archer was waiting, she snagged a spaghetti-strap tank top and some sleep shorts. Then a change of comfy clothes. She debated whether or not to grab something a bit nicer from the back for about two seconds before remembering how spectacularly her last attempt to impress him with a more sophisticated look had failed. Victoria’s “see-through” Secret aside, her normal clothes would undoubtedly be a safer bet anyhow.
Less than four minutes later she was zipping up her bag. Not too bad. There was a soft scraping noise in the closet a moment before a jacket slipped from a hanger into a crumpled heap on the floor. She turned to go back but stopped. Meh. Wrinkles. Not life or death. Flicking off the light and locking up quickly, she ran out to the car and set their little road trip in motion.
“So, do they know what’s wrong with him? Your dad?” She wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about it but the doctor—er, nurse part of her brain wanted to know what they were dealing with.
Clearing his throat he seemed to come out of his daze. “Yeah, my mom said something about a virus attacking his heart and, uh, cardiomyopathy. I don’t know what that means.”
“Well, cardiomyopathy is basically a disease of the heart muscle. It could have very easily been brought on by a viral infection. The onset can happen fast and can quickly lead to heart failure.”
He quietly digested the information, when she turned to glance at him his throat worked and he spoke low. “So, there’s nothing they ca
n do.”
His father was a sensitive topic, so she needed to tread cautiously without giving false hope. “I don’t know about your dad’s case specifically, but sometimes pacemakers or defibrillators can make a difference. The only thing more radical would be a transplant.” Forcing down a lump in her throat, she felt overly emotional over a man she didn’t even know. What she did know was the man sitting next to her was still nursing wounds his father had inflicted.
Archer’s response was silence. She could feel his confliction and his pain like a slowly oozing wound infecting the small space. She may not be an expert on the opposite sex, but she grew up with two brothers and Ryan so she knew guys didn’t like to talk about those things. Didn’t like to show any weakness. Archer was no exception, but she felt she had to press him for a little more.
Please let us get there in time.
“How long has it been?” She asked, her eyes drawn back to him again.
Overwhelming sadness softened his eyes for a split-second before they hardened over. He stared back at the road. “Three years.”
What would that kind of isolation feel like? She’d only gone two days without talking to her mother after her little stunt, and Sadie felt like she was missing an arm. Her heart ached for him, for a way to heal the hurts still cutting him up inside. She reached over and rested her hand on his. Like so many of her efforts, it seemed inadequate but it was all she had.
He turned it over, wove his fingers through hers, and lightly tickled her palm with his thumb.
“You wanna talk about it?”
He stared down at their fingers. “Not right now.”
Probably best, because she could no longer think straight. She tried to force her thoughts from the stirring of molecular energy electrifying her nerves, but it was no use. The way his thumb brushed her skin had her revisiting memories of his callused hands on her face, his palms against her back, his fingers fisted in her hair.
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