Chapter Six
“‘Why did you block me? Stop ignoring me.’” Zoey read the card out loud. “‘I’m not mad. I still love you. Nothing will ever ruin my love for you.’”
Archer took the card from her. The crease between his eyebrows deepened.
“I finally blocked him so he couldn’t send me any more text messages,” Zoey explained, fumbling in her bag and removing her phone. “His feelings are hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”
Gently, Archer removed the phone from her hands. “You did the right thing. This is his problem.”
He sounded like her father now, but the funny thing was she didn’t actually mind the advice coming from Archer.
He wasn’t an overprotective father getting into her business from hundreds of miles away.
He was her bodyguard, a professional, and he’d now witnessed the situation firsthand.
Obviously, Scott must have noticed her inside after shop hours, with another man inside, and just left the flowers for her.
Maybe he didn’t realize this was creepier than simply knocking on the door.
“So… I should just ignore these flowers?”
“Yes, certainly do not call or text him.” Archer handed the phone back.
“Not even to say thanks?”
Archer quirked a brow. “It isn’t the roses that are concerning but the note.”
“He doesn’t want to give up on me.”
“It’s straight out of the stalking playbook. Unwanted gifts and phone calls. But he will have to accept ‘no’ eventually. If he does not understand no in English, I will speak to him in my language.”
“Italian?”
He didn’t answer. Zoey didn’t think Scott spoke Italian and almost said this out loud, but then she noticed Archer’s smoldering look—well, she would call it smoldering but others might call it intimidating.
Threatening. Extremely serious. If he spoke to Scott with that body language, he’d probably pee his pants.
“Oh, I see,” she said. “That’s not necessary.”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary and what is not.”
It took everything in her not to stick out her tongue again. He made her feel five years old again as he led her to his car.
“Do I have to sit in the back seat again, or may I sit in the front with you like a normal person?”
“Sit in the front if you like,” Archer said, opening the door like an actual chauffeur.
She asked Archer to stop by the market on the way home so she could get a bag of fresh apples. Not surprisingly, he walked inside with her, two steps back like her shadow.
“Again, do you have to be so obvious?” she hissed in the produce section.
“What’s an acceptable amount of distance? Six feet?”
“Pretend you’re my friend, at least.” She held up an apple and smiled. “Do you think this looks juicy?”
He blinked. “How can I answer that question honestly?”
“With the truth.” She put the apple back. “Never mind. It’s better it be red than juicy.”
He picked up a basket of his own and stayed several steps behind her.
Zoey tried to remember what life had been like back when she’d lived at home and her family had a bodyguard.
She didn’t remember this awkwardness. Their bodyguards had been friends, not like the Secret Service detail for the president.
If she recalled, Alec had three adult children he’d put through school on his own after his wife left him.
Harry had married an old friend of her mother’s.
They were present at birthdays, anniversaries and vacations.
She only now realized how odd this was, but she hadn’t had a normal childhood.
She and Archer wandered through the aisles, grabbing a few things here and there. She grabbed more pumpkin spice, stopping to admire the fall-themed display of cookies, cupcakes and candy.
In the checkout line, she saw Archer’s basket filled with cookies and doughnuts and bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. He looked like he ate ammo and grenades for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but he was just a regular human being with a sweet tooth. She could work with that.
Back at the house, he insisted on unloading all the groceries for her.
It wasn’t much, but she’d purchased the ingredients for a couple of meals.
She would hate to eat popcorn every night while she had company.
Her mother, even after she could afford a live-in cook, always made dinner for the family.
“I’ll make a quick frittata for dinner,” Zoey said. “If that’s okay.”
“You don’t have to cook for me.”
“Well, we both have to eat, don’t we?” She eyed his bag of treats. “You don’t plan on subsisting on sweets, do you?”
“I’ll order myself some food.” Archer waved a palm dismissively. “You don’t need to feed me.”
“Excuse me?” She put her hand on her hip. “You don’t think I’m going to let you sit here and starve while I eat, do you? My mother would come down from heaven to slap me for being a terrible hostess. She used to cook for our family’s bodyguards, and I don’t mind doing the same.”
She gathered eggs, cheese, tomatoes, peppers and cilantro. This was her mother’s recipe.
“Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’ve been in this situation before,” Archer said.
She nodded. “Yes, but we had those bodyguards because there were serious death threats against my father. Texans take their football very seriously.”
He cleared his throat. “I am sorry you have to go through this again. I apologize for my gender. There are too many men who do not understand the word ‘no.’ For that, I am very sorry.”
“Archer, you are not the representative for the male species,” Zoey said, taking out her cutting board. “Either way, I accept your apology on behalf of all mankind.”
When she opened a cabinet door to reach for a bowl to crack the eggs into, he grabbed it for her. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I can make this easier on you.”
“How so?”
“You did not want me to be obvious about guarding you.”
“It just makes people curious as to why I need a bodyguard. And I’d prefer the whole town not know that I’ve got an obsessive ex. Twyla knows…and probably her husband, Noah, but that’s about it. I’d like to keep it that way.” She cracked an egg and then another and started whisking.
“Maybe I could pretend to be visiting from out of town.”
“Like a friend?”
“A cousin, or a friend of a friend?” He coughed. “Or a boyfriend.”
She whisked harder. “A boyfriend?”
Her heart pounded against her rib cage. She liked the idea far too much. “Like a fake relationship kind of thing?”
“It’s an idea. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way.”
“There’s one big problem. A boyfriend wouldn’t hang around me at the store all day. And if he did, that would definitely draw some attention.”
“Right. Not what we want, either.”
“But…” Zoey said. “How about I hire you to work for the store?”
“Like a security guard?”
“Or…a salesclerk.”
“A salesclerk at a boutique. Me.”
“You could sell the men’s clothing and I’ll sell the women’s.”
His lip quirked in a hint of a smile. “You’re not trying to take advantage of me, are you?”
“If you’re going to be with me all day…”
“The proposition is intriguing, but I still think you’re better off if men know you have a bodyguard.”
“I don’t want to scare all the men off! You seem to think I want to keep all men away, and that’s not the case.”
“It’s not?” He wore the hint of a smile on his lips.
“No, Archer. I would like a date for the Sweetheart Day party on the fourteenth.”
“About this party, will there be many people there?”
“Yes, quite a few. It’s my annual event.” She chopped harder.
“Can you cancel it this year? Just because of the, you know, situation with, um… What’s his name? Scott, is it?”
How interesting. He’d almost forgotten the name of the person he was supposedly protecting her from. Who was supposedly this huge threat…
“You have got to be kidding me, dude.” Zoey pointed her knife at him. “I am not going to let him win. This party is happening. That’s why you’re here.”
“Right. It’s a higher-level alert. Anytime you’re going to be around a lot of people, the threat level rises.”
“Then you’re going to have to really try and be less obvious there. Or we’re not going to have any fun at all.”
“Fun is for when the threat is gone.”
This time, she really did stick her tongue out at him and he laughed, which while not her desired reaction, made her heart thrum pleasantly.
After dinner, he thanked her and cleaned up the dishes, then they made their way to opposite corners of the house.
Hours later, Zoey lay in bed curled under the covers, feeling somehow less lonely.
She’d always felt like this house was too big for one person but every time she’d been close to having a roommate, they wound up getting engaged.
It was lovely to know there was another heartbeat in her house besides her own.
Her faux roommate was a hunky bodyguard on the other side of those double French doors, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.