It was all she could do to not pull over and explore those feelings some more. It was such a blatantly inappropriate time for them, but her heart was restless nonetheless.
The circumstances certainly were extenuating. Not only was their physical proximity painfully close and would remain so for several hours, but they were headed on this little adventure together. The emotionality of their journey alone tugged at her heartstrings making it a vulnerable target. Add to that, they didn’t know how long they’d be there or where they’d be staying in whatever dinky town in Kansas they were headed.
And then there was the man altogether. His presence like a drug—turning a perfectly rational woman into a nutcase. Her head was spinning on a high of his intoxicating scent, and glittering effervescence tingled through her veins with every stroke of his fingers. Her skin burned in anticipation for more of his touch with an intensity she’d never known.
So this is passion, she thought.
Good girls weren’t supposed to struggle with this kind of attraction. She’d assumed she’d be able to contain it. Never once imagined she’d feel like this. Enticed and out of control and conflicted with just the touch of a man’s hand.
Yeah, she really hadn’t thought this trip through very well. Her heart was still on bypass. Anesthesia holding the pain at bay until she was strong enough to sew back up and face the music without the world crumbling beneath her feet. Feeling something for Archer served as a brutal reminder that she might never recover enough to give it away again. Short of a transplant, she was as terminal as Roy Hayes.
When they got to a gas station Archer insisted on driving the rest of the way. “I do have one good arm. And I can still use this one—it’s barely even sore.”
“What is it with you men and always needing to drive?” She shook her head teasingly. “It’s not like I’d revoke your man card for riding shotgun even if you hadn’t just taken a bullet to the arm yesterday.”
“I’m just that tough, babe. Nothing can slow me down.” He winked with exaggerated arrogance.
She laughed to conceal the slight pinch of his words. And the reminder that no one was invincible. “I’m gonna run in and get something to drink. Want anything?”
“Coffee would be good. Might be a long night.”
“Great minds. Be right back.” She returned a minute later, and they shoved off again in search of Podunk Town, Kansas.
“So you never told me how the meeting went. I haven’t gotten a chance to look over the will. What happened?”
“Well, first off, thanks a million for the warning about John Westwick.” She glared at him, feeling a little sassy. “I was all paranoid and crawly. When Evan’s phone rang I jumped out of my skin like the time my first elderly patient goosed me in what he claimed was a moment of senility.”
Archer let out a deep bassline laughter, and Sadie thought she could listen to that sound all day. “Lucky dog.” He teased.
Sadie pretended she hadn’t heard that. “Otherwise it went really amazing, actually. Almost unbelievable.” She filled him in.
“Wow. That’s a game changer. You must be pretty excited.”
“Meh, you know. ’Nother day, ’nother dollar.”
He snorted, shooting her a droll look.
“Okay, fine. I’m slightly ecstatic. It’s not the way I would have wished it, but it’s like a dream. I can’t wait to get started.”
The laugh lines around his mouth smoothed and his face grew pensive. She recognized the moment he slipped into FBI mode.
“What is it?” She asked.
“I was just wondering how recently he added that stuff to his will, and who knew about it.”
“Why? You think someone might have killed him because of it?”
Archer shrugged. “People have killed for less.” Something in his eyes flashed and then they narrowed with surprising scrutiny. Narrowed on her. Each second he hesitated tightened the tension twining into barbs in her chest. “I mean that’s a lot of money to essentially give away. If the other Westwicks knew they might not have been too happy about the charity. Or about you being the main beneficiary of his assets. Kind of a surprising turn of events, don’t you think?”
Sadie wanted to bristle at the insinuating edge in his voice. No. She must have misunderstood. He couldn’t possibly suspect her, could he? Is that what all this was about? The flirting, the kissing. Was she really that love-starved she could be so easily duped by a man’s affections?
She looked over and latched onto his gaze. The man had to have a tell. He was in intimidation mode—those FBI eyes were harsh and probing. Almost vicious. She wanted to smack that accusing look right off his face. But then he held her gaze a moment longer and his mask slipped—those traces of accusation were overshadowed by a look of affection so hot and heady it melted away her doubts.
Trying to stay on point, she flashed back to the meeting with the Westwicks, absorbing her observations anew. “I remember Evan seemed genuinely surprised. Well, we all were actually. I don’t know. But wouldn’t killing Charlie just speed up the process of losing a chunk of their inheritance? If someone knew and wasn’t happy about it, why wouldn’t they just try to forge some sort of retraction or claim insanity?”
“Beats me. It’s not like murderers are rational human beings. You were right about one thing though, Sherlock.”
Sadie brightened. “I was?”
“Umm-hmm. The coffee grounds. They were drugged.”
“Great Scott, Watson! Whatever with?” She did her best Holmes impression.
With a slow shake of his head, he tipped his head back and laughed. “You are something else, Sadie Carson.”
“Whatever do you mean?” She smirked, still in character.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Here we are on this crazy, impromptu road trip to see my dying father, and you’ve got me laughing and grinning like a fool.”
“Well, they say laughter is the best medicine.”
“No, Sadie. You are.”
Be-still-my-heart. When he looked at her and smiled like that she’d sound the horn to bring the wall down herself.
Chapter 24
Archer Hayes
The five hours to rural Kansas flew by. Given the purpose of the trip, Archer felt a little guilty for so thoroughly enjoying himself. Sadie was incredibly easy to be with. She had this uncanny ability to put everything in perspective without being the least bit smug. For the first time in his life he felt … centered. Like he’d stumbled into someone else’s home by mistake but instantly felt like he belonged. A place of simple comfort, honesty, genuine happiness—everything his home had lacked, and it was all wrapped up in her presence.
Equally foreign was feeling his rock-solid discipline spiraling off course, leaving his emotions behind the wheel. Emotions were unreliable and far too easy to give in to with a muse like Sadie.
She was a beautiful distraction. But that was all she could be. At some point, someone would pay for it. And if history had taught him anything, the cost would be a life.
Having strayed so far out of his element, he wasn’t sure how to navigate. He prided himself for his rigid ability to compartmentalize and regulate every situation. After living through a war where you had no control, it became his lifeline. The key to his success, and his survival. The emotionally weak-willed would bend and break, but he proved to himself that if he stayed detached he could do his job well and never have to deal with hurt.
But what about regret? A familiar voice sounded in his head. If he continued to keep everyone at arm’s length, would he live to regret it? He tightened his grip on the wheel and forced his eyes to stay trained on the road.
Up until this point there hadn’t been anyone he’d considered breaking his own rules for. What made Sadie so different? And if he closed the door to her, wou
ld he be able to go back to who he was before she made him feel this way? Or would he always wonder about the one he’d let slip away?
Then again, what did he really know about her?
The discussion of Charlie’s will leapt to the forefront of his mind, arousing suspicions he had laid to rest. Was it possible she was involved in this somehow? Could she really have worked him over, seduced him with her beauty and her charm? Had his desire for her overwhelmed his instincts?
After pulling in to the small hospital parking lot just after one o’clock in the morning, he looked over at the woman in question. She’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, turned just so in her seat that he could appreciate every little detail. One look and the apprehension in his chest eased.
He was good at his job. Probably the best. It just wasn’t possible he could be blindsided by a pretty face.
And oh, what a pretty face, indeed.
He knew he needed to get inside, but he stalled just a moment longer to drink in the view. Soft wisps of luminous blonde hair had fallen across her forehead. Giving in to the need to touch her, he gently brushed them away, letting his fingertips skim the smoothness of her cheek. Long lashes came to rest on the high arch of her cheekbones as she slept. The supple flesh of her rosy lips tempting him to taste what had been unimaginably sweet only days ago. Tearing his eyes away from her mouth to avoid an impromptu sampling, he noticed a small beauty mark near the corner of her bottom lip, the faintest dusting of freckles over her pert little nose.
And although he wasn’t one to objectify, he let his gaze travel down over her svelte form, lingering a moment as her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was fine-boned but curvy in all the right places. Soft and feminine.
A rush of heat choked out his air supply. He needed to escape this hotbox of torture. But he also needed to wake her, preferably before she woke up and found him ogling her. Or before he dragged her over the center console and—
Nope. None of that.
Clearing his throat, he whispered. “Sadie … Sadie, wake up.” He reached out and rubbed her upper arm, shaking her gently. “Sadie.”
Stirring and stretching, she batted heavy eyelids, slowly exposing the brilliance beneath. She spoke sleepily through a small yawn. “Are we here?”
He smiled because, well, even though he was in the last place he wanted to be, he was with Sadie. And that was something to smile about. “Yeah, we are. You could probably stay out here and sleep a bit more if you lock up. There was a motel a few miles back, but it was pretty dark. I’d rather you not go by yourself.” He grated at the scratch in his throat. “Or you can always come in with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll find a waiting room. Let you have some time alone with your dad.”
“That part I’m not looking forward to.”
Sadie perked up, holding his gaze boldly but worrying her bottom lip. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but …”
“Don’t hold back on me now, Sherlock.”
“Thing is, I know based on what little you said about your childhood that you don’t owe the man anything. But …” She reached out and placed her small hand over his heart. “You have to forgive him, Archer. And not just for him. For you.”
His heart hammered against her palm. How had he not thought about this before now? He was completely unprepared to see his dad and he’d just driven for five hours without giving their confrontation a single thought. What was he going to say?
He knew Sadie was right and she was trying to help, but he struggled again with the concept of giving in. He huffed out his frustration, trying to ease the pressure roiling beneath the surface. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know. I’ll be praying.”
They made their way into the hospital building. With each step the gravity of the situation shoved his heart further down into his stomach. His breathing labored, a vice of haunted memories seeming to squeeze the air from his lungs.
As if sensing his panic, the soft pads of Sadie’s fingers brushed his palm before she grabbed hold. A mysterious calm invaded his hand, sent a chain reaction up his arm and through his chest, eradicating the panic attack and leaving only the faintest nervous flutter in his gut.
And when Sadie attempted to break off at the waiting room, Archer noticed he was clinging to her hand like a life raft, desperate for her magic touch to keep him afloat. He managed a small smile, lifted and pressed a kiss into her palm, and reluctantly walked alone to his father’s room.
Just before his knuckle struck the door, his mom rounded the corner. “Oh, Archer, you made it.” His little pint-sized mama flung her arms around his neck and held him tight.
It took him a moment to respond, but he hunched down and hugged her back, realizing just how much he’d missed her. Breathing in the familiar powdery fragrance of her Shalimar perfume, he nearly choked on the knot of regret rising in his throat for his prolonged absence. “Hey, Ma.”
Pulling back, she held his face, no doubt analyzing the subtle changes the years bring. “It’s so good to see you.” Fresh tears filled her mossy green eyes.
“I missed you too, Mom.” His smile faded as he nodded toward the door. “How is he?”
She shook her head, her blonde-streaked tawny brown curls firmly sprayed as usual. She looked the same as always, right down to the tear tracks smeared over her delicate features. But the heartbreak in her eyes … something about that wasn’t quite the same. “I don’t think he’s sleeping. You should go in. He’s a little groggy, but he keeps asking for you.”
He nodded once, accepting that he had no choice. It was, after all, why he’d come.
When he started to open the door, his mom touched his arm. “Give him a chance, Arch. He’s a different man now.”
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. An oppressive presence of death hovered in the room, and when his sights settled on the drawn face of his father, he knew why.
Roy’s sunken eyes fluttered open. All oxygen kicked free from Archer’s lungs at the sight of his sick and defeated reflection.
He’d almost forgotten how much he resembled his dad. Maybe that was his problem. He didn’t want to be anything like him, but every time he looked at Roy’s face, Archer felt as if he couldn’t escape the man he might someday become.
“Archer.” His voice emerged thin and gravelly, foreign. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Archer nodded, reminding himself to breathe. “How are you feeling?” Dumb question, Ace, the man is dying.
The frail line of his shoulders were heavy with defeat, not resembling the proud tank of a man who had once been his father. “Not so good, son. And not just for the reasons you think.” He motioned for Archer to sit.
Dragging a chair bedside, the shrill scraping of the legs on the glassy, terrazzo floor grated at his taut nerves. He folded stiffly onto the chair and held his breath again.
“I’ve messed things up so bad I don’t know where to start.” Roy took a moment to close his eyes. Then he spoke again. “I just keep praying for the right words.”
Archer bit back a snarky comment about when his father took to praying about anything, much less curbing his preference for cutting words. He breathed out his impatience. Keep it together, man. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind, Dad?”
“I can do that,” he said aloud, and then he whispered to himself under his breath, “You can do this.”
Archer wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but what came next was the last thing he’d have guessed would come out of Roy’s mouth.
“I found God earlier this year, and in doing so I’ve come to grips with a lot of the ways I failed you as a father.” The sharp peak of Roy’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his eyes misting with emotion. “All the ways I’ve failed at everything actually—with your mothe
r, and you and your sister. And as much as I’ve prayed that I could take it all back and do things differently, well … I know I can’t make up for what I must’ve put you through, Archer. I took you for granted. And I don’t blame you for hating me. But something happened.”
Archer witnessed something he had never seen on his father’s face. It looked like … redemption.
“It was like living in the dark your whole life and then waking to a glorious sunrise. Your mother was faithful and prayed for me all these years. She helped reel me in before it was too late. I kept searching for something to fill the void, never realizing it was all right there all along. What a damn fool I was.” He shook his head, drawing and releasing a fragile breath. “I wish I would have figured it out sooner, maybe things could have been better between us. I wish I would’ve been the father you deserve.”
Archer looked down, clenched his fists until his nails dug into his hardened palm.
“Son, before I miss another opportunity, I want to tell you how proud I am and have always been of the man you are.” A tear trickled down the grooves of Roy’s pale cheek. His voice broke. “And how I wish I would have told you how much I love you, before now. But, even more importantly, how much God still loves you, no matter what you’ve done. You can’t earn forgiveness, Archer. Lord knows I never could have. But at some point you’ve gotta stop running.”
Any semblance of a response clogged in Archer’s throat, his eyes burning with unshed tears. Everything he’d wanted to hear, only years too late.
“I have a lot of regrets, son, but what I would regret more than anything is if my failures destroyed your ability to love.”
Archer wanted to be mad. He wanted to have someone else to blame for the condition of his heart. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, his anger slipped through his fists. The pain and disappointment from a lifetime of neglect sifted like sand from his grasp.
When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) Page 22