Chapter Nineteen Archer
Chapter Nineteen
Archer
“You sure this is it?”
Remi’s car was nowhere to be found, but the address matched the one she’d sent. It wasn’t far from where she lived, and based on what I was seeing, it was a neighborhood meant solely for older people.
The homes were connected like condos, four per grouping. The aluminum siding was faded from time, and each unit had the same face—a single garage stall, a front door with a square stoop covered with an aluminum overhang, and a small window to the side of the front door.
Blocky, geometric hedges lined the front of a lot of the units, but some residents had seemed to have swapped those out for flowers. Remi’s grandfather was one of those people. The front of his home was more open because of it, a neatly kept landscaping bed filled with red flowers.
Williams leaned in. “Where’s Remi?”
“Not here, dumbass.”
He grimaced. “So are we just hanging out in the street until she gets here?”
A face appeared in the front window, then disappeared again.
In the unit next door, a door opened with a loud squeak. The woman was wearing a bright-blue bathrobe over a printed muumuu, her hair wrapped in a scarf. “You two looking for someone? We don’t allow solicitation here.”
“No, ma’am, we’re here to help him move,” I said, gesturing at the home in front of us.
“Huh. Harold didn’t tell me he hired movers.” Her eyes narrowed, shifting between Williams and me. “Do I know you two?”
“Maybe?” Williams said. “We both—”
I reached up and pinched his side. Hard.
“Ouch, fuck. Why did you do that?”
“Shut up, Williams.”
She crossed her arms, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, and I saw the moment she realized it. Her mouth fell open, eyes took up half her face. “You—”
“Maude, quit harassing these two. Go watch Wheel of Fortune.”
The man who came out from the house in front of us was tall, with a proud bearing and thick white hair combed off his face. Dressed in a white, short-sleeved button-down and a purple bow tie, he looked more like he was about to officiate a wedding.
“Harold, do you know—”
“Maude,” he interrupted, “I told you to keep your nose out of my business.”
She pulled a disposal camera out of the pocket of her robe, brought it to her face, and snapped a picture, immediately cranking the little plastic wheel to take another one.
When I glanced over, Williams was giving her a big toothy grin.
Idiot.
“Maude, go inside,” Remi’s grandfather said more loudly. “And don’t you go calling everyone to gossip.”
She tightened the belt on her bathrobe with a haughty sniff. “You’re not my boss, Harold.”
“No, but you need one,” he muttered. “Damn busybody.”
When she disappeared into her house with an angry slam of the front door, he shook his head before giving me his full attention.
“Sir, I’m Archer.” I held out my hand. He eyed it for a moment, his gaze sharp and knowing, then clasped it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Harold Sinclair. I’ve been a Buffalo fan my entire life, but I’ll circle back later on whether it’s a pleasure to meet you two.
” He brought himself up to his full height, trying as best he could to straighten his shoulders.
“I like watching a game of football, especially with my great-grandson, but I won’t blow smoke up your asses because you make more money than I do. ”
“Fair enough.” I elbowed the rookie. “This is Grant Williams.”
Harold’s eyes widened. “The new receiver from Michigan? You had a hell of a senior year, kid.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“How’d he get you to come with?”
“Blackmail,” Williams answered easily. “I embarrassed the hell out of him the other day with your granddaughter, sir. He’s got quite a crush on her, and this is my punishment if I ever want to catch touchdowns this year.”
Tongue slicking over my front teeth, I gave Williams an unamused look. “Thanks,” I said tersely. “That’s an excellent way to start off on the right foot.”
The rookie shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I believe in telling the truth whenever you can.”
“Maybe not with this,” I snapped.
Remi’s grandfather’s bewildered gaze bounced between the two of us. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see how he’d react.
He started laughing.
Big, deep, booming laughs, and I exhaled slowly, tension ebbing from my frame.
Harold wiped his eyes when tears gathered. “Oh goodness, that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time.”
The sound of two car doors preceded Remi’s voice behind us. “Sorry we’re late. I baked some muffins and they took a little longer than I thought.”
The sight of Remi was a blow to my chest, and like a fool, I’d line up to take that hit over and over and over, until there was nothing left.
This woman had already wrecked me, and still I wanted more. I wanted nothing but for her to tear down whatever I was before I’d met her. Maybe what was left would be the good parts, the parts I’d never really tried to find until now.
Her eyes found mine, color creeping up her cheekbones. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Friends, I thought. This woman, this exquisite creature, wanted me to be her fucking friend.
Yeah, right. She wasn’t looking at me like a friend, either, and my stomach twisted pleasantly when she fidgeted nervously with her hair.
It was braided back today, but a few tendrils had escaped, fluttering around her face.
The way I wanted Remi Sinclair defied every law of logic in existence. And if she allowed me to stay in her orbit much longer, I’d fall in love with her.
Wasn’t I already halfway there?
What else would you call this sickening feeling that gnawed ceaselessly at my insides?
Even when I shouldn’t be, I was thinking of her.
Wondering where she was and what she was doing.
How she’d react if I did something like buy her a new car or pay off the mortgage on her house.
Something—anything—to bring a smile to her face, even if she didn’t know it was me.
Remi blinked, severing the relentless build of energy as we stared at each other. I could breathe more easily now, but I wasn’t sure that was a good thing. If I choked to death on my feelings for this woman, I’d probably do it with a smile on my face.
“Pops, did you meet Archer?” Gavin came tearing around the front of the car, stopping short when he saw the rookie. “Whoa,” he breathed. “You’re—you’re Grant Williams.”
Williams smiled easily, holding his hand out for a fist bump. “And you must be Gavin. Archer told me all about you.”
“He did?”
The look Gavin gave me—full of awe—was a double-edged sword.
No matter how much we didn’t want it to be true, athletes and celebrities and musicians carried the weight of children like Gavin.
None of us went into our respective fields wanting to be role models, but when you were good enough, popular enough, your platform stretching far enough across the globe, impressionable kids looked up to you.
I’d ignored that for a long time.
But I couldn’t anymore.
“Of course I did,” I told Gavin. “Listen, I felt really bad that I couldn’t come in and see your room before, so I wanted to find a way to make it up to you.”
He stared, wide-eyed, at Williams. “This works for me.”
We all laughed.
I cleared my throat. “No, I brought him so we had an extra set of hands and another truck. But I’d still love to see your room, if you want to show me.”
“Yeah, I can . . . I can do that.” He puffed out his chest and looked at Williams. “Would you want to see it too?”
“Of course, dude. I bet your room is awesome.”
Remi glanced at the second truck parked next to mine. “I thought you had the fancy sports car.”
Williams shrugged. “What can I say? I have a weakness for vehicles.”
She shook her head, a tiny smile playing around her lips. When she finally looked in my direction, what I saw there left me breathless with anticipation. With a plate of muffins clutched to her stomach, she met me halfway.
“Two football players for the price of one, huh?”
“Please don’t slap Williams. I’d hate to think he gets the same treatment as me.”
Remi laughed, and fuck, did I love what it did to her eyes.
Harold cleared his throat. “Come on now, we’ve got shit to do, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“Pops,” Gavin groaned.
“I know, I know. Language.”
Remi smiled. “Anyone want a muffin before we start?”
Williams’s hand shot up. “I love muffins.”
“I hope you like banana,” she said, pulling the clear wrap off the top.
Just as I went to reach for one, Harold caught my eye behind Remi’s back. He shook his head frantically, mouthing No. Gavin covered his mouth to hide his smile. My brow furrowed, hand frozen mid-reach.
Remi glanced back, and her grandfather’s face smoothed out. He patted his generous stomach. “I’m still full from my afternoon snack, bug, but thank you.”
Remi shrugged.
“You know, I’m good, thank you,” I answered carefully, giving her grandfather another curious look. He nodded like I’d made the right decision.
Williams popped half a muffin into his big mouth, took a few bites, and then froze. He tried to chew, his mouth moving even more slowly.
“It’s a new recipe,” Remi said, watching him closely. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Gweat,” he said, mouth still stuffed full of muffin. “Reawy gweat.”
She exhaled. “Good. Okay, let’s get to work.”
Harold motioned for us to hang back as Gavin and Remi walked into the house.
Williams was still trying to chew. Unsuccessfully, by the looks of it.
Harold pulled a napkin from his pocket and handed it to him. “Here you go, son.”
The muffin came out as soon as the napkin was up to his mouth.
“That bad?” I asked.
“Like trying to eat glue,” Williams answered gravely.
Harold sighed. “I love that girl, but she is the worst cook I’ve ever met in my life.”
I laughed quietly. “Good to know she has a flaw somewhere.”
Harold gave me a sharp look.
Williams whistled. “I’m gonna go help inside, I think.” Then he nodded at Harold. “Thank you for the napkin, sir.”
He patted his pocket. “I always carry some, just in case she springs something new on me.”
After the rookie jogged into the house, Harold laid a hand on my arm to hold me back, and we were left alone.
Based on the scrutiny in his weathered face, there was a good chance I was in for a what are your intentions toward my granddaughter talk. My entire body braced for impact.
Harold pursed his lips before he spoke. “She told me your secret.”
Okay then. Maybe not.
When my brow furrowed, he held up a hand. “Now, don’t get mad at her.”
I wasn’t sure I was capable of that—not really—but there was a sharp pinch of betrayal over the fact that she hadn’t even lasted a week without telling someone. “I’m not mad,” I said carefully. “But I did ask her to keep it a secret. It’s important that I protect my sister.”
“Yeah, so she said.” He adjusted his glasses. “I was in the middle of a phenomenal rant about why she should keep Gavin away from you, and her protective instincts kicked in too,” he said pointedly. “She didn’t much like what I was saying about you.”
The way satisfaction seeped through my entire body was absolutely fucking pathetic. I should’ve been pissed. Should’ve been furious that she’d betrayed my trust. Except the only thing blaring through my head was Tell me fucking everything.
What did she look like?
What did she say?
How—and tell me in great detail—did she say it?
I couldn’t remember a time anyone had been protective of me, and God, it felt like executing the perfect pass just before a sack, running in a touchdown when the defense doesn’t see me coming, the winning moment that unfolded against all odds.
A skin-tingling high that you’d chase over and over and over.
I kept my expression even because he’d probably cuff me on the back of the head if I told him any of that. “Ah, please don’t . . . please don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll agree to that,” he said. “As long as you don’t stare at my granddaughter’s ass while I’m around. I might be a lot older and a lot slower, but I could still whip you, boy.”
“Yes, sir.” I winced. “I’ll do my best.”
He nodded. “See that you do.”