Chapter 10
TEN
The noise of the phone jolted Scarlett back to reality, and she tumbled off the couch, her legs tangled in the blanket.
What…just… happened ?
Archer, looking concerned and slightly dazed, poked his head over the edge of the couch. “You okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” Scarlett replied, trying to sound bright. She kicked off the blanket as his phone continued to blare. “You going to get that?”
“No, I’m going to turn it off and deal with it tomorrow,” he muttered, digging into his pocket. His eyes were still on Scarlett. “Come back here.”
Yes , cried Scarlett’s body. Uh-oh , said her mind.
“I, um, need to…”
Then Archer swore, scowling at his phone. “It’s Holden.”
“The detective? What’s he doing calling on a Sunday afternoon”—Scarlett glanced at the fading light coming in through the front window—“well, evening?”
A brief struggle played out on Archer’s face.
Scarlett sat up and propped herself up on her elbows. “You might as well answer it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“What if he has news about the murder? He could have cleared us as suspects.”
“I don’t particularly care about that right now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Archer.”
The phone stopped ringing.
Archer met her gaze. “Why are you still on the floor? Come back to the couch.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
“According to who?”
“According to me, Scarlett. Get back here. I want to touch you.”
The phone rang again.
Scarlett got to her feet and took two large steps away from the couch. It was safer to be far away from Archer. If she got close enough to touch, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. One thing she did know was that what had just happened was a colossal mistake. She buttoned her cardigan with furtive movements.
Archer sat up and swung his feet to the floor, then swiped to answer. “Yeah?” He frowned as Scarlett crept toward the door. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, but she knew the more distance she put between her and Archer could only be a good thing. But Archer stood up and followed her to the edge of the living room, his phone to his ear. “Right. Okay, thanks, Rick.” He hung up. “Why are you running away?”
“I’m not running away,” Scarlett said, one foot in the hallway as she planned her escape. “What did Holden want?”
Archer’s shoulders dropped. “They’re done processing my truck. Rick knew I needed it for work tomorrow, so he figured he’d give me a call.”
“That was nice of him.”
Archer scowled at the blank screen on his phone. “Yeah. It was.”
Scarlett had never been a particularly awkward person, but in that moment, she felt more uncomfortable than she ever had before. More uncomfortable than when she’d had to ask her high school friend for a place to crash. More uncomfortable than when her ex-boyfriend’s mother had informed her that the coward wanted to break up with her after ghosting her.
She couldn’t quite make sense of what they’d just done, but she knew it had been a mistake. It was the one thing she’d known for sure shouldn’t happen. They were friends. Their friends were entangled. Her found family meant more to her than an orgasm.
Even though it had been a very, very good orgasm.
Archer looked at her. “Talk to me, Scarlett.”
“About what?”
He let out a long breath. “Do you regret what we just did?”
“I…” She gulped. “I’m just… I don’t know, Archer.”
He took a step closer, and Scarlett resisted the urge to retreat. Archer’s jaw clenched, as if he could tell she’d wanted to back away. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Don’t you want to get your truck?”
“I don’t really care about my truck right now.”
Scarlett crossed her arms. “I’m not… Listen, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She jerked her chin at the couch. “We decided to be friends. That’s all I can be to you. We just…got carried away, is all.”
Archer studied her for a long moment, then resolve seemed to settle over him. He let out a short huff. His eyes betrayed anger that Scarlett didn’t understand. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, Scarlett, you go ahead. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning so we can go see what Ralph has to say.”
Ralph…right. Scarlett forgot about that. He was still willing to bring her along? Did she even want to pursue their amateur sleuthing? That’s what had brought them to this moment, after all. That’s what had changed everything between them.
Before Scarlett could make up her mind, Archer closed the distance between them, wrapped a hand around the back of Scarlett’s neck, and kissed her—hard. She gasped in surprise, and Archer’s tongue slid into her mouth, sending an electric shock skittering through her body.
It was their first kiss in nearly a year and a half. And it was so much better than Scarlett had remembered.
But as quickly as he’d grabbed her, Archer released. “Tomorrow,” he vowed, eyes blazing, and then he stalked to the front door, put his shoes and jacket on, and left.
Silence pulsed around Scarlett after the door closed. She stood in the entrance to her living room, reeling. Then, mechanically, she locked her front door and wandered back into the living room. She folded the blanket and set it on the arm of the sofa, then fluffed the pillows and straightened the book that had fallen to the floor. The bag of M he simply held it.
Archer loved Scarlett’s hands. Her fingers were long and fine as she tangled them through his, a few rings glittering on them. Along with a tiny stone on her middle finger, Scarlett wore rings between the second and third knuckle of her middle and ring fingers. Archer had never seen anyone wear rings like that, and he found himself running his thumb over the metal and tiny stones as he drove, stroking her skin and her jewelry in a soothing caress. Whether he was soothing her or himself, he wasn’t sure.
When he finally let go of her hand to make the turn, he missed the feel of her skin against his. Her nails were still painted with that peachy polish, sparkling in the sunlight as she took a sip of her coffee. Everything about her was pretty.
He dragged his gaze away, thoughts turning back to her piece-of-shit ex. His chest burned with every breath. That sniveling, gutless coward had hurt Scarlett somewhere deep. It wasn’t right.
As they turned off the freeway and headed north, Archer realized that he couldn’t be Scarlett’s friend. He’d been naive to think so in the first place; Scarlett was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and more. From the moment he’d tasted her lips after Camilla and Marlon’s wedding, he should have known.
He’d found her. She was his.
His woman. His lover. His friend. His everything.
But would she feel the same way? He was the idiot who barely scraped by with a high school diploma. The guy who couldn’t get through a single page of a book without wanting to toss it against the wall. What could Scarlett possibly see in him, besides a night of fun?
After the incident on the sofa the night before, she’d looked horrified.
Conflicted, Archer turned his attention back to the task at hand. They were going to see his old mentor, who may or may not be a murderer. If Ralph had killed Ethel, they’d have to find a way to prove it to clear their names. There was no way Archer was letting Scarlett go down for something she didn’t do. After everything she’d been through, she deserved a good life.
“We’ll be going left at the next intersection,” he said, voice rough, just to fill the silence and try to get his thoughts back on track. “It’ll be the third driveway on the right.”
“Okay,” Scarlett said, shifting in her seat as she scanned the surroundings.
The road turned narrower and wound through a forested hillside. The three driveways were spaced far apart, houses concealed by the trees. The properties here were secluded—just how Ralph liked it. As they approached his old mentor’s driveway, Archer’s heart began to thump.
A woman had died—a horrible woman, yes—and the only man who’d given Archer a chance at a good life might be behind it.
He didn’t want to believe it, but he had to know for sure.
The driveway was gravel, and it wound through a dense pine forest for a few hundred feet before gently curving to the left. The trees became more spaced, with a few oaks and elms wearing their autumn coats in between the deep emerald of the evergreens.
Archer’s heart climbed to his throat as Ralph’s home came into view. It was little more than a cottage, cobbled together over the decades, with a steeply pitched roof and a weathered blue door. Weeds grew all around the house, with the dried-out husks of dead plants lining the window boxes.
This wasn’t what it had looked like fifteen years ago.
“His workshop’s out back,” Archer said, jerking his chin toward the gravel track that went around the small home. “If he’s here, that’s where he’ll be.”
Scarlett nodded.
The truck crawled forward, its tires crunching on the gravel as he drove around the side of the house. Archer glanced through the darkened windows, seeing nothing but ragged curtains.
Then the workshop came into view behind the small house. Archer’s chest tightened. “Ralph’s home.”
“He won’t mind us coming unannounced?”
“He’ll hate it.”
Scarlett huffed and followed his gaze to stare at the huge shed that Ralph used as a workshop. “I’m beginning to regret this little field trip.”
Archer killed the engine and met her worried gaze. Because he was obsessed with touching her, Archer reached over and took one of her hands. He threaded his fingers through hers and stared into her brown eyes, wishing he could take away every shadow that darkened them. Her palm was warm and soft against his. “We can go back to town, Scarlett. I’ll come back here on my own.”
She pulled her hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here now. Let’s talk to him. What’s he going to do? Murder us?” Her grin sent an arrow piercing through Archer’s breastbone.
He followed her lead as she got out of the car, their gazes pointed toward the workshop, where a saw whined in the quiet solitude of the forest. They stood in front of Archer’s truck as the saw quieted down, and Scarlett turned to meet his gaze.
She squared her shoulder and gave him a nod, looking brave and beautiful. He was in love with her. It hit him just then, quietly, with sunlight painting strands of her hair bright gold. She turned to the shed. “Let’s do this.”
Archer shifted to look at the workshop too. “I’ll do the talking.”
“Fine by me.”
Together, they took the first step toward the building that contained a potential murderer—and froze.
Because behind them, an animal had begun to growl.