Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The House
Jet lag and a new bed had me on the verge of consciousness for several hours. Mildred had decided to sleep with me and every time I rolled over, I encountered her warm, furry body.
She let out a snort, wormed her way out from underneath the covers, and then her paws hit the floor. She bumped her snout against the closed door.
“You hate me,” I whispered to her, but I dutifully flung off the covers.
I followed her out of the bedroom and stopped outside Lenni’s door. I listened intently for a moment, but all was quiet.
I hoped she was sleeping deeply and that she didn’t have nightmares.
Mildred hadn’t waited for me, and I heard the jangle of her collar from the bottom of the stairs. As I came down, the kitchen light greeted me when I rounded the staircase. I heard the low rumble of a male voice. I entered the room and nearly squeaked in surprise.
Archer stood at the counter, dark hair mussed, and thin wire framed glasses on his face.
So not only did he have a slutty mustache, but he had slutty glasses.
And my mini dachshund was currently cradled in one of his arms and pressed against his chest.
His bare, perfectly sculpted, inked chest.
And he was wearing—
Yep.
Plaid sleep pants that rode low on his hips.
Dangerously low.
I held in a groan.
“Sorry,” he said, shooting me a tired smile. “I tried to be quiet. Did I wake you?”
I shook my head and flung my hand in the direction of Mildred. “She couldn’t sleep. Neither could I.”
“That makes three of us,” he said. “I was about to get out the bourbon. You want some?”
“No thanks. Maybe some tea.”
“Sit. I’ll make it.”
He looked cute as hell with my small dog in his muscular inked arms. Archer set her down and she trotted to the back door. I let her out, leaving the door cracked so she could make her way back inside when she was ready.
I settled into a chair, my eyes tracking his every movement.
“You’re going to be a train wreck tomorrow,” I remarked as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a mug for me.
“So are you,” he pointed out.
“I’m a New Yorker,” I explained. “We’re designed to run on lack of sleep, caffeine and disillusionment.”
“Well, if that doesn’t tell me everything I need to know about you. Honey?”
“Don’t call me honey.”
He shot me a lopsided grin over his shoulder. “I meant, do you want honey in your tea?”
“Oh. Yes, please.”
Archer chuckled. “Chamomile okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Mildred came back inside and I got up to close the door, shivering at the cold air that was sneaking into the warm house.
The kettle spout was open so it wouldn’t whistle, and soon steam was shooting out in an angry cloud. Archer made my tea and then brought the mug to the table before grabbing the bottle of bourbon and a rocks glass with ice in it.
I wrapped my cold fingers around the mug and suddenly wished my blonde hair wasn’t a tangled mess.
He took the chair next to me and then poured himself a hefty drink.
As he set the bottle of bourbon down, Mildred rose on her back legs and placed her paws against his thigh.
He scooped her up and settled her against him.
She licked his skin and then closed her eyes. A deep rumbling came from the tiny dog.
“Is she purring?” he asked me in shock.
“Snoring,” I corrected. “Mildred has a deviated septum. She thought about having a nose job, but she realized she loves her original nose. It gives her character.”
Archer looked at me with a raise of his brows.
“What? You don’t talk to the horses you shoe? Or croon to them to make them less anxious?”
“Or make up scenarios about them?”
“Mildred has been my only true companion the last several months,” I said. “We’ve grown attached to one another.”
He lifted his bourbon toward me. “Well, cheers.”
I raised my mug and clinked it against his glass. “I thought for sure you’d just drink straight from the bottle.”
“In the days of yore, I would’ve.” He paused and took a sip of the liquor. “Now that I’m a dad, that seems irresponsible. Jesus, I’m a dad. Life really does change on the flip of a dime, doesn’t it?”
“It really does,” I agreed. “If you’d asked me a few months ago, there’s no way I could’ve predicted I’d wind up being a nanny in Huckleberry Hill.”
“I’ve got a fully formed kid upstairs I knew nothing about.” He shook his head and took another sip.
I bent over my tea mug and breathed in the steam.
“Were you in New York? Before coming here?”
“No. I was in Telluride with the family I used to nanny for. Family ski trip,” I explained. “When Salem called about Hadley . . . I was only a few hours away, thankfully. Not across the country. I slept in the airport and grabbed the first flight available.”
He peered at me. “You came because Hadley was in the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Without hesitation.”
“Of course. She’s one of my best friends. I’d drop everything for my best friends.”
He nodded, his expression pensive. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before now.”
“I was in town for Salem and Hadley’s baby shower. Not really your scene.”
“Nope,” he agreed. “So, your boss was a creeper?”
“Yes.”
He tapped his finger on the rim of his glass. “And that’s why you quit?”
“Yeah. He hit on me,” I stated with clinical recounting. “Obviously and uncomfortably. His wife walked in as he was doing it.”
“Shit. That’s fucking awful.”
“It’s fine, Archer. Over and done with. I quit and now I’m here.”
“Not over. Not done with.” He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“He did me a favor. And I don’t regret it. I got the dog as my severance package. I got a new job. I’m happier here.”
Archer took a sip of his bourbon. “Okay.”
“Are you usually up in the middle of the night?” I asked, desperately wanting the attention off me.
“Rarely, actually. But I read through everything Nancy left me. The will. Lenni’s birth certificate. Lenora James Murphy. Five pounds, six ounces. She was a preemie. Eighteen inches long.” He swallowed, his eyes dimming. “You know how small that is?”
“No.”
He let go of his glass and held out his arm toward me and flipped it over. He had a monster of a scar embedded in his skin; not even the colorful ink could conceal it all the way. “The length of my forearm. She would’ve fit right here.”
I looked at the dog curled against his chest.
She would’ve fit there, too.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to be there,” I murmured. “I’m really sorry, Archer.”
“I’m so fucking angry at Blair,” Archer said.
His voice was low and measured. “I missed eleven years of Lenni’s life.
I missed her first steps. I missed sleeping by her hospital bed when she had a life-threatening kidney infection when she was six weeks old.
I missed her first words. I missed everything. ”
His hand still rested on the kitchen table. I grasped it.
His fingers curled around mine.
They were warm, calloused. Capable.
“You’re here now,” I pointed out.
“Only because Nancy didn’t want to raise her,” he said. “I’ve known my kid for less than twenty-four hours. I have no idea what I’m doing, but like hell I’d ever walk away.”
He squeezed my fingers like he desperately needed contact. I squeezed them back, wanting to give him some sort of comfort. Some sort of understanding.
I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked.
“Please.”
“Parents never know what they’re doing.” My smile trembled. “Even the best ones. You just have to be there for her. You’re the only one she’s got.”
“She’s got you.”
“For now. But you’ll be here forever, Archer, because you’re her father.” I reluctantly tugged my hand free. “I think the tea is making me sleepy.”
“You haven’t even taken a sip yet.”
“Chamomile steam . . . must be powerful.” I rose from the table. “I’ll take my dog now.”
He gently placed her in my arms, and I held her against me. I looked down at Mildred and smiled when she barely cracked an eye open.
When I looked back up, I found Archer watching me with an unguarded expression of need that had nothing to do with desire.
“Get some sleep,” I croaked. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”