Chapter Eight
Even after an awful day, Zoey always felt better after visiting the Conchita Lambert Cancer Ward.
There was one in every major hospital in the state of Texas and a few across the country.
Some might think it strange to feel better after visiting cancer patients, but Zoey believed it was her purpose to bring sunshine into the lives of those fighting the good fight.
She’d done it for her mother, and she could do it for these people, who were at first strangers and in some cases became friends.
They wrote and emailed her, thanking both her and her father for all they’d done.
She liked to come at least once a month, but she came more often in the fall.
Today, she had with her a bouquet of a dozen fresh red roses that she handed out to all the nurses on the ward.
Scott’s efforts at getting her back with flowers wouldn’t completely go to waste.
A single long-stemmed rose for every hardworking nurse.
And to make the day extra special, she was able to watch a breast cancer survivor ring the bell at the end of her treatment.
“This is Patch and Conchita Lambert’s daughter, Zoey,” a nurse said. “How about a photo op?”
“Yes, please!” The young woman, who couldn’t be much older than Zoey, beamed.
Zoey posed for a photo with the patient and wished the woman many years ahead of being cancer-free.
She heard survival rates were improving every day and was delighted.
Early screening was so high-tech now that they could often catch cancer before it ever happened.
Mami would be so proud of what they’d done here, in her name.
But all her joy swiftly left her when she saw Archer standing near the front of the lobby.
She’d planned to be back well in time for him to return from his appointment.
He looked shocked more than angry to see her.
But her main concern was that he’d somehow hurt his foot while helping her decorate the store.
She had a feeling that had happened, but he’d been too much of an alpha male to complain.
“Look. I know what you’re going to say,” Zoey said. “I shouldn’t have come here alone. But this is a regular appointment for me, and as you know this is my only day off.”
Archer stepped forward, his eyes soft. “I am so sorry, Zoey.”
“What? Why? I’m the one who’s sorry I didn’t listen to you. But I had to be here today.”
“I…didn’t know.”
“Yes, well, that’s the point. You had your appointment, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try to stop me. I knew how you’d react.”
“Why would you worry about my reaction? You should have told me that you’re ill.”
“I’m…what? Me? Oh, no. I didn’t come here for…” And then it hit her. “You saw me coming out of the cancer ward, didn’t you?”
He held up a palm. “No need to explain, please. I am just…sorry.”
Zoey bit on her lower lip to keep from laughing. “I’m not sick.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I understand.”
“No, you don’t understand. I was just here visiting. This is one of my father’s biggest charities. The Conchita Lambert Cancer Ward. It’s named after my mother.”
“Dio Mio.” His dark eyes were sorrowful.
Zoey reached out and took his arm. “Come with me. We need to talk.”
She led him to the outdoor tables in the gardens near the campus café. At this time of the year, even the hospital was decorated. They had pumpkins strewn about and fairy lights strung on the shrubs. Zoey loved it.
“Have a seat.” She pointed.
Archer scanned the area first. This guy was never relaxed, not even in a healing garden. He slowly took the bench seat opposite hers, folded his hands and raised his head to meet her eyes.
“Archer,” she said. “My mom passed away from cancer. But you don’t need to worry—I don’t have cancer, nor have I ever had cancer.”
“I’m glad of that, and sorry I assumed.” The crease in his brow deepened. “I thought it was the only reason you’d leave the house without letting me know was not wanting to skip your treatment.”
“Honestly, I thought I’d get back before you did. I visit the cancer ward often to offer my support in any way I can. Almost every Monday. It’s my dad’s charity in my mother’s memory.”
Archer slumped. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Well, it’s not okay and it never will be, you know? But I’ve learned to live with the grief, and every time I’m here, I feel her here with me.” She paused, and then said, “Why would you think I wasn’t just here visiting someone?”
He quirked a brow. “I assumed you wouldn’t ignore my orders for any other reason than if you were getting treatment.”
“Fair. And why were you here today? I suspected you hurt your foot yesterday but you wouldn’t say anything. How bad is it?”
Archer rose. “Why don’t I get us some coffee?”
“Sure. I’ll have a pumpkin spice latte, please.”
Either he was avoiding the subject or trying to be kind in view of his big mistake.
Still, she appreciated the sincerity she’d seen in those amber eyes of his.
He was definitely not someone who lacked compassion.
A good sign. She watched him walk toward the café counter without a hitch in his step, no longer leaning to the right.
Maybe she’d been imagining that she’d detected a limp.
He set her latte down. “Tell me more about your mother.”
There was no surer way to get Zoey to talk for hours. She’d cut it short for him.
“Well, she was a force to be reckoned with.”
“Like you.”
“Definitely more so than me. She could stand up to my father, even though she was all of five foot three and he’s a solid six five.”
“You got your father’s height.”
“It helped with my modeling career. My mother was my biggest champion and protector. When I was sixteen, we started traveling the world together so I could model. She accompanied me everywhere as my chaperone. My father, of course, would not have allowed it without her. I’m so grateful now.
So many girls didn’t have that kind of support.
Because of my mother, I stayed out of trouble.
Anyway, that’s how I got involved in the world of fashion. ”
“When did you stop modeling?”
A stone formed in Zoey’s throat. “When she got sick.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty, plenty old enough to stop modeling—I was almost aging out of the industry. The modeling world is pretty crazy. I was ready to do something different anyway, but I gave it up to be with her. She fought the good fight for years, and my father and I had time to get used to the idea. She was my best friend.”
“Your mother sounds wonderful.”
Zoey nodded and took a deep breath. “Archer, why are you here?”
“Same as you, to visit patients and support the hardworking medical professionals.” He winced and drank from his coffee cup.
Zoey made a face. “Okay, don’t tell me then. I just thought you’d hurt your foot helping me yesterday and I felt bad about it.”
Archer shook his head. “No, that had nothing to do with it.”
He wasn’t going to tell her, and since it was a medical issue, she couldn’t push it. Not everybody was as open as Zoey. She’d accepted this long ago.
* * *
Archer walked Zoey back to her car. He couldn’t bring himself to scold her about ignoring his orders to stay home.
She was pretty much a saint and probably got her orders from the big guy upstairs.
He wasn’t messing with that. Fortunately, Archer was well acquainted with women like Zoey.
He’d grown up with them: his mother, his four sisters.
Still, they were going to have to put some parameters in place.
He had a job to do. To do it well, he’d have to outsmart her.
“Next time you want to come to the hospital, let me come with you.”
He had long ago learned that the best way to get a woman to do as he bid was to ask nicely. Better yet, let her think it was her idea.
Zoey hesitated, reaching for the door handle of her sedan. “Well, you would certainly cheer up many of the patients.”
“That would be my goal.”
He wasn’t above offering a harmless lie, if required.
“You really want to help?” She blinked.
“Of course.”
Another lie.
He didn’t love the idea of watching people suffer, having seen enough of that to last him a lifetime.
But this was different than what he’d experienced overseas.
It might even be uplifting, if he could somehow boost their spirits.
Either way, he was going to call his family tonight and make sure they were all getting their regular cancer screenings.
“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll let you know next time I go.”
“And where are we going next? Would you mind if I tag along?”
“I was going to drop in at the bookstore and see Twyla.”
“I’ve been thinking of buying a book,” Archer said. “I didn’t bring any with me.”
This wasn’t technically a lie. He liked to read, but the bookcase in Zoey’s guest room was filled with romance novels. Not his cup of java.
“Then you’ll have to check out the only bookstore in town.” She climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle, and when she did, her skirt shifted and showed off her long legs. “Today is book delivery day and also books-go-away day.”
“Books-go-away day? What is that?” He leaned into her open door, his hand on the door frame.
“It’s when Twyla gets a new shipment of books, which is so exciting, but then because of shelf space, she has to return books that haven’t sold.
It’s always a difficult time. Occasionally, we’ll go out for drinks at the Salty Dog afterward to commiserate over all the good books that just wouldn’t sell. ”
She seemed serious about this, no hint of teasing in her voice.
It wasn’t a joke. Her friend was sad when books were returned.
Every now and again, Archer couldn’t quite grasp the nuances of American humor.
But then again, no civilian understood gallows military-style humor. Especially not his mother.
“It sounds like fun,” Archer lied. “I wouldn’t mind following you there.”
Again, this was a skill. He could be grumpy that she wouldn’t fall in line, or he could try outsmarting her. Of course, he sensed he’d only get so far with this game. Zoey was as bright as they came.
“It’s downtown. Just follow me.”
Once they’d arrived and parked, Zoey waited for him. He reached for the shop door of a store similar to Zoey’s boutique, except it apparently sold nothing but books. Stacks of books were displayed in the window, along with cutouts of famous literary characters, like Sherlock Holmes.
“Twyla!” Zoey called out. “You here?”
A pretty brunette wearing fashionable glasses appeared.
“Aw, you remembered. It’s book-go-away day.” Twyla lowered her head.
Zoey stepped forward and embraced the petite woman.
“But it’s also book delivery day! Let’s focus on the positive. And guess what? I brought you a new customer!” She stepped aside and pointed to him. “You haven’t been officially introduced. Twyla Cavell, meet Archer Rossi.”
He noted that she hadn’t introduced him as her bodyguard, which was just fine with him.
Twyla smiled. “Are you looking for a book?”
“I prefer mysteries. Lots of action—at least a couple of dead bodies, but preferably more. Plenty of suspense.”
“Well, too bad you’re too late for copies of a debut thriller I already packed up to send back today. But, lucky for you, I received more copies of the latest blockbuster thriller by a New York Times best-selling author. It’s a book everyone’s going to buy, so you may as well, too.”
“Oooh, that sounds good, even to me,” Zoey said, following Twyla as they walked farther into the store. “I’m usually a romance fan,” she said over her shoulder. “Especially Westerns.”
“Like we don’t get enough of that around here.” Twyla scoffed, smiling.
“It’s the whole ranch-lifestyle aesthetic and a simpler kind of life. There’s nothing better than a good cowboy romance.”
“You just keep telling yourself that,” Twyla said, and handed Archer a book. “If you’re to go by all of the reviews, you’ll like this one. I’ve read it even if it’s not what I typically enjoy. But there’s lots of suspense and three dead bodies. One explosion, if I recall.”
Archer found it hard not to smile. He was kidding about the dead bodies. Only his buddies understood his sense of humor.
Turning it over in his hands, he read the back cover. “I’m sure I will enjoy this.”
“Now, direct me to the latest Beverly Jenkins book,” Zoey said.
“Sure, but you know it’s not a Western.” Twyla smirked.
Zoey elbowed her. “I make exceptions for great authors.”
“Big of you.” Twyla chuckled.
They moved to another area of the store and Archer didn’t immediately follow.
This was a small place. He could watch her from here and still have a great view of the front door.
Also, there weren’t any men in here but him.
He’d seen a photo of the man suspected of sending death threats to Patch Lambert: Tall, thin and gangly, with a full dark beard and long scraggly hair, at least at the time of a booking photo for another arrest unrelated to Patch.
Before getting this assignment, Archer had come down to Charming a couple of times and hung out at the Salty Dog Bar and Grill.
There, he’d run into Ronan Sheridan at least once.
Archer had a photographic memory for faces, which served him well in this line of work, and he didn’t remember ever seeing the man then, either.
Then again, he lived hundreds of miles away and hadn’t made any direct threats to Patch’s daughter.
Archer was fully aware the assignment might end soon.
The only issue that remained was this party she wanted to host. He’d be here until he talked her out of it, which might involve a little too much honesty.
It wasn’t his place to explain to her that her father was once again receiving death threats and the party might draw too much attention. But he’d tell her as a last resort.
After Zoey browsed what seemed like the entire romance section, she was finally ready to go. They each paid for their purchases, and he held the door open for her, following closely behind.
Zoey suddenly stopped and turned, almost running into him. “Again, do you have to make it so obvious that you’re my bodyguard?”
“This is not top secret work. It’s good to be obvious. That keeps bad men away.”
She quirked a brow. “Well, it keeps all men away. Didn’t we already talk about this?”
“Maybe that’s best for now.”
After a long moment, she sighed. “It’s just…can you please try not to be so obvious? I hate people knowing my business.”
“No one has to know but us.”
He followed her to her vehicle and waited until she buckled in.
Window lowered, she stared at the book in his hands. “You’ll have to tell me how it is. Apparently, I like mysteries.”
Archer wasn’t sure what she meant by that because she gave him a long look, as if he was the mystery.