Chapter Fourteen
Zoey took off her cap, styled her hair and was getting dressed for work when her father called to check in.
“You still mad at me?”
She sighed. “No, I understand why you did it. You were in classic overprotective daddy mode and I should have seen it coming.”
Daddy chuckled. “Are you not getting along with him?”
“I never said we weren’t getting along.”
“You wanted him to leave the day he arrived.”
“That’s because I thought it was too much and unnecessary.”
“Do you still think so?”
Maybe, but this assignment was an easy transition for him, and that was the point.
She wanted to help with that. The poor guy mistook someone’s brother for a stalker, and his phone for a gun.
Here in Charming, he was almost getting a paid vacation.
But there was something else going on with Archer.
Overall, he carried himself with confidence, but there was also something deeply vulnerable about him. Something he hid from the world.
“I don’t know why, but he keeps asking me to cancel the party. He thinks it’s too dangerous and even did background checks on all my guests. Is he overreacting?”
“I don’t think so. You should trust his judgment on this. He’s been properly trained.”
“Yes, but…so Peter was in town and dropped in to say hello, and he said something interesting.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He said something to the effect that Scott wasn’t the real danger, and then he corrected himself. Like somehow I’d heard him wrong, but I didn’t. Daddy, please tell me the truth—is the real danger that I might actually meet someone else and you’re still intent on us being together?”
Her father laughed like the idea was ridiculous. “No, I gave up on you two a long time ago.”
She wanted to tell him that Peter didn’t want to give up on them, but she didn’t want the conversation to take another turn.
“Honestly, I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said. “But I appreciate the thought. Archer’s a good guy.”
“Yeah? I got close to my bodyguards. We’re still friends to this day, even if they no longer work for me. What’s yours like? Does he like football?”
Zoey rolled her eyes even if he couldn’t see her. Her daddy thought the world revolved around football.
“He’s young, about my age. And he likes soccer but calls it football.”
He laughed hard enough to hack up a lung. “One of those.”
“Having a bodyguard and a chauffeur has certainly brought back memories.”
“I’m sorry about all that, baby girl. Football fans have been known to be unreasonable at times.”
“It actually brings back good memories of you, me and Mami. It was sort of like we were the Three Musketeers and it was us against the world. Every time someone said something terrible about you on ESPN, I could literally see the fumes coming out of her ears. She was your biggest champion. But then she got sick, and everybody loved you again.”
“God, I miss her. Every day.” Her father’s voice broke.
She hadn’t meant to bring up painful memories. Thinking of her mother made Zoey happy, but with her father it was different. He only fixated on what he’d lost, not what he’d had.
“I want what you two had, Daddy. My person. The one who will always be there for me, who will be on my team. I need my own team.”
“And I want that for you, baby.”
“Then you’re going to have to accept that you can’t choose that man. I will need to date plenty of men to find the one, eventually.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. But maybe you need to screen them better. Maybe I should have them screened for you.”
“No thanks, because no one is going to be perfect. He just has to be my kind of perfect, not yours. Only I can screen for that.”
Her father chuckled. “You mean he might not appreciate American football?”
“What I’m saying is that’s not a qualifier.”
“Makes sense to me. All I want is for him to be someone who puts you first, who won’t hurt you, who will never leave you and will always protect you.”
Zoey rolled her eyes. “Interesting. You’ve just described a bodyguard.”
“Well, he won’t get paid to do it. How about that?”
“I can take care of myself. You’re just going to have to accept that.”
“Just make sure you leave room for the man you love to feel wanted, as if you need him to protect you, even if you don’t.”
“Is that romance advice from my father?”
“I think it’s what your mother would say.”
He was probably right.
* * *
“I have an appointment today,” Zoey announced as she and Archer were opening the store.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere. She’s coming to us.”
Someone wanted a wedding dress! The timing could not be more perfect, as it was September, when to Zoey it seemed like everything was right and proper with the world.
Rachel, the bride-to-be, worked as a paralegal at the law firm belonging to Michelle LaCroix, now officially Michelle Sheridan, although she hadn’t changed her last name for professional reasons.
Rachel had booked the appointment six months ago, right after she’d been proposed to by her police officer boyfriend, Cameron.
“What should I do?” Archer asked, probably worried she’d want him to give his opinion on wedding dresses.
“Just stand down, if you don’t mind. These bridal fittings are by appointment only, and Sundays are usually so slow that it’s not a problem.”
“How many wedding dresses do you usually sell in a month, say?”
“This is something new, and I’m still working on getting the word out. I’ve been working at building up my inventory. A few months ago, I scoured online estate sales looking for vintage gems.”
Her business plan was very specific as to how much she could spend and she’d honored it, but that meant she had a ways to go before the wedding dress side of her boutique was what she’d like it to be.
Nevertheless, she’d managed to collect dozens of beautiful gowns and was confident she had something here for Rachel.
Rachel showed up right on time, and Zoey greeted her client with open arms. Fortunately, Rachel, too, was a hugger. “I can’t believe this day is finally here.”
“Hello,” Archer said from next to Zoey.
He, on the other hand, wasn’t a hugger. Zoey made the introductions.
“So it’s true that you hired help,” Rachel said to Zoey.
“I help the men who come in and also the women at times, when they have questions,” Archer supplied.
Damn, he was a good liar.
“It’s been nice having someone else around when it gets really busy,” Zoey said, feeling only a little bit bad about lying to a customer.
“That’s great,” Rachel said, her gaze pausing as she seemingly admired “the help.”
“Archer, why don’t you order us some lunch? We’ll just be in the back.”
Zoey led Rachel to the annex and the dressing area with a large mirror and pedestal that she’d bought from a store in Austin that was going out of business.
“I know I have something in here for you.” Zoey had already chosen a few dresses to begin with. “I’ve set aside a few choices—sweetheart collar, long train, short train, strapless. All first-rate designers. But you tell me, what did you have in mind?”
Rachel set down her purse and turned in a circle. “Oh, my gosh! So much white!”
“I have some off-white, too, and maybe two that are a sort of beige. But yes, the designers do seem to be sticking to the tried and true.” Zoey walked over to the dresses she’d picked out. “Were you thinking white or off-white?”
Rachel worried a fingernail between her teeth. “Oh, um… I’ve been looking through all the magazines and searching online for hours. I love so many of the styles, but what I want—all I really want—is a dress that will make him realize he’s made the best decision of his life!”
“Okay, girl, I got you.” Zoey had just the dress. She hadn’t initially picked this one out, but now, seeing Rachel and her buxom hourglass figure, she had a great idea. “Try this one on and tell me what you think.”
* * *
Archer couldn’t get out of the shop fast enough.
Zoey wouldn’t approve, but he flipped the sign to Closed and locked it from the outside with the key she’d had made for him.
He wouldn’t be gone long, and Sunday was apparently a slow day.
But even though he wasn’t going far, leaving his post felt wrong.
He headed to the Salty Dog Bar and Grill owned by a trio of Navy SEALs, who’d retired and gone into business together.
For that reason, a large number of veterans patronized the place.
This was where he’d first run into Ronan Sheridan after his initial interview with Texas EP.
His boss was the one who had told him about the bar in Charming, about a half hour’s drive from Houston.
There weren’t many places he could go to commiserate with fellow soldiers and other military personnel.
He felt safe here, wholly accepted. On the walls were photos of service members, emblems like Semper Fi and framed photos with sayings like, “The only easy day was yesterday.” Only a soldier could relate.
He ordered a classic burger and fries and, while he waited, took an empty stool in the bar section.
Max Del Toro was bartending tonight, one of the three former Navy SEALs who bought this place.
Archer liked his direct approach to customers.
It wouldn’t be to everyone’s liking, but Max wasn’t the type of person who put up with any funny business.
Archer could relate. Max was a big guy, too, and Archer could picture him as a bodyguard himself.
The last time he’d been here, he’d seen him “escort” a guy out of the bar who’d had a few too many and groped at their waitress.
Escort was a kind word; he more or less threw him out on his ass.
He needed more friends like Max because his own former crew was scattered all over the country.
Sally had told him that even if he didn’t go to group counseling sessions for PTSD, he should surround himself with like-minded people.
Which was the entire reason he was here, wondering how in the hell he could ever navigate an intimate relationship when he was not the same man he used to be.
He should probably get on those online message boards for amputees, but Archer wanted the human connection.
The comradery in this place relaxed him and put him at ease.
His accent all but disappeared, and he imagined that most of the people didn’t even know he was Italian.
“Hey, it’s Archer, right?” Max said, coming over to his end of the bar. “Nice to see you again. What can I get for ya?”
“Get me a beer,” Archer said. “Domestic, please.”
Two minutes later, Max set a frothy mug of ice-cold beer in front of Archer.
“How’ve you been?” Max asked, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder. “Did you get the job you interviewed for? What was it, executive assistant?”
Archer fought a smile. “Executive protection. And yes, I got the job. I’m basically a glorified bodyguard.”
Max nodded. “Good to know they’re hiring vets. I’ve put the word out, too. There’s no one better to have your six than someone who has already laid their life on the line.”
“Once or twice.” Archer chuckled, taking a pull from his mug.
“Exactly.” Max took the towel off his shoulder and gave the bar a wipe. “Where did you serve?”
“Iraq mostly, one of the few thousand soldiers left behind to train and advise Iraqi security. Probably still be there if it weren’t for the accident. I survived two tours but it’s training that sidelined me.”
“No kidding.” Max leaned in. “What happened?”
Archer got caught up in the memory, explaining how they’d been training a few of the soldiers to use the old MRAPs. They’d had a translator, of course, but apparently something had been lost in translation.
“It really was an accident, but one of them ran me over.”
Max made a pained expression and groaned. “Man.”
“Yeah,” Archer sighed. “After all those years, I almost made it out intact.”
Max quirked a brow. “What did you lose?”
This time, Max gave Archer a look, his eyes narrowed. But Archer wouldn’t call it compassion, or pity. More like simple curiosity. Yeah, Archer definitely liked Max.
“Part of my leg.” Archer downed the rest of his beer.
“Sorry,” Max said, though without a hint of pity. “You know, I would’ve never guessed by looking at you walk in here.”
“They’ve made some amazing advancements in prosthetics,” Archer said. “Mine was the ankle and foot, and a below the knee amputation, is a faster recovery.”
“It’s tough to talk about this stuff, I know.
” Max reached under the bar and came up with a pen.
Then he grabbed a napkin and wrote down a number and pushed it toward Archer with his finger.
“Don’t undermine what you lost. My buddy has a group, if you’re interested.
You’ve probably noticed we’ve got a lot of veterans around here.
It’s not just me, Cole and Adam. But Adam started this group not long ago. A lot of our regulars attend.”
Archer wasn’t sure he’d be around long enough to participate, but because Max had offered, he took the piece of paper.
“I’ll think about it.”