Chapter 20
TWENTY
Archer had been glad to get a call from his nitpicky client with the tricky kitchen cabinets, Muriel Howard, when it had looked like Camilla, Lucy, and Amelia would begin an inquisition that he wasn’t ready to endure. He’d left Pushing Daisies and headed across town to the older woman’s home, taking the familiar path through the winding streets of her suburb.
He’d renovated Muriel’s kitchen the previous year, and she’d been a nightmare of a client. Exacting, unreasonable, and unwilling to pay for services rendered. But at that moment, he was glad for any excuse to get out of there.
Scarlett had gone to meet her ex, and in his moment of misery, Archer had wondered if he really could hang on to her. What if he’d been fooling himself? What if she realized he couldn’t live up to what she needed? He couldn’t handle three women bearing down on him with scalpel-like questions.
So, he replaced a perfectly good hinge on Muriel’s corner cabinet and nodded along when she told him about the back deck she wanted to build the following summer.
“I was thinking it might be a good job for you to take,” she told him, patting his arm. “Your mother was saying you were struggling to make ends meet this year.”
Archer blinked. “She was saying what?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You just send through a quote for the deck, and we’ll see what we can do. Maybe you can give me a discount for being a loyal customer.”
“Hmm,” Archer replied noncommittally, then said goodbye and headed back to his truck. He drove to three jobs that his crews were currently working on: one basement finishing job, a new garage installation that was behind schedule and needed to be done before winter hit, and a small job for a built-in media center at a young couple’s house. All was in hand, so as the sun went down on another day, Archer made his way home.
He had some work to do on the plans for the Old Road Hotel’s ballroom refurbishment, which would begin after the new year. Then he could run down some leads for other, smaller jobs. Anything to keep his mind off the woman currently visiting with her ex.
Archer lived in an old Victorian that he’d bought with the intention of renovating, but he hadn’t quite gotten around to doing anything but the basics. The old cliche that said a builder’s own house was never done rang true for him. The foyer echoed when he stepped inside, and for the first time, Archer walked through the house and didn’t feel like he was at home.
It was empty in here. Lonely.
Until his doorbell rang. Turning to glance at the frosted glass set in the front door, he could make out the vague shape of someone with dark hair. He opened to see Scarlett standing on his stoop. Despite his doubts, despite the thoughts that had swamped him all afternoon, his shoulders relaxed.
“Hey,” he said, leaning an arm against his doorframe.
Her eyes narrowed at him. “You left without saying goodbye.”
“My phone is still in a bag filled with silica packets on your kitchen table.”
“You could have waited.”
For her to finish her date with her ex-boyfriend? That was beyond him. Archer let his gaze roam from her eyes down to her lips. He’d never get tired of looking at her. “Your friends were about to tie me to a chair and pull out my toenails until I told them what was going on between us.”
Her laugh tinkled like bright bells as she slid past him and into his home. “And what is going on between us, Mr. Jones?” She shot him a coy glance over her shoulder, and the last of his melancholy fell away.
A smile twitched over his lips. He watched her inspect his foyer, including the beat-up steel-toed boots he had by the front door and the mirror he hadn’t got around to hanging. He wondered what she saw when she looked at his place. “We’re trying to catch a murderer, of course.”
She glanced over her shoulder to look at him, her eyes glimmering. “Is that all?”
“What would you say is going on between us?” Archer asked, catching her around the waist to back her into the wall.
She adjusted the collar of his shirt and gave a cute little shrug. “I would say we’re exploring the possibilities.” She smelled like a sweet floral perfume and the scent of the outdoors. Her nose was red from the cold outside, and her hair was a wild mass that fell down her shoulders.
“Is that what you told your ex when he tried crawling back to you today?”
A startled look widened Scarlett’s eyes. “How did you know he tried to get back with me?”
“How could he not?” Archer’s voice rattled as he spoke. He was torn between feeling happy she’d sought him out, and violently jealous that she’d had a meal with an ex-lover. “The whole knowing-something-about-the-murder thing was obviously bullshit.”
“Well, yes.” Her fingers slid from his collar to his neck, tracing small circles on the skin below his ear. Her eyes sparkled with devilishness, and it looked good on her. “You want to know what I really told him when he asked me if I’d give him another chance?”
No, Archer didn’t want to know. What he wanted to do was find this asshole and kick his teeth in. He wanted to beat his chest and tell the world that Scarlett was his, and his alone. “Tell me,” he grated.
Scarlett slid her hands to the back of his neck, teasing the short hair on his nape. She looked at him through her lashes, cheeks flushed, and said, “I told him I had a new man.”
Archer pressed his hips against hers, pinning her to the wall. Blood rushed in his ears as Scarlett’s words sank in. Fierce, undeniable possession roared through him. It was victory and pride and greed and sheer terror all rolled into one.
When he spoke, he hardly recognized his own voice. It sounded like gravel rattling up his throat. “You’re mine, Scarlett.”
Her lips curled into a soft, yielding smile. “I know.”
When he kissed her, she opened her mouth and invited him in. She clung to his hair with one hand and reached down between them with the other, cupping him where he was already hard and wanting. Letting out a low growl, Archer grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall above her head. He bit her lower lip and kissed her harder, his control slipping with every touch of his tongue against hers.
When Scarlett reached for his shirt, Archer obliged by lifting his arms over his head so she could pull it off. He watched desire flash in her eyes as she brought her hands to his bare chest, relished the feel of her palms sliding against his skin. Her thumbs brushed his nipples as she explored his body, and Archer groaned. He brought his hands to her hips and considered allowing her to stroke him like this for a while longer, but lust nipped insistently at his heels, and he was too weak to resist.
She yelped as he hauled her over his shoulder, and then he was marching up the stairs.
“You’re going to drop me!” Scarlett said, arms scrabbling at his back.
“I won’t,” he replied, making it to the landing where the stairs turned to the left. He made it all the way up and kicked his bedroom door open. It slammed against the wall and bounced back, but he was already across the threshold. He kicked it closed and tossed Scarlett onto the bed.
“Get naked, sweetheart,” he ordered as he unbuckled his belt.
“So demanding.” She gave him a coy smile and tore off her shirt. That’s as far as she got before Archer was on her. He tugged her jeans off and notched himself between her knees, only their underwear separating them.
She reached for him, her hands sweeping up his arms to wrap around his neck. It felt like heaven to be touched by her, to be wrapped up in her arms. She smiled as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “Will you be my date to the grand re-opening on Friday?”
Leaning his weight on one elbow next to her head, Archer lifted his body a few inches so he could look into her eyes. “Your date?”
“Yeah. I mean I’ll probably be there all day setting up and working, but we could…be there together.”
The organ in Archer’s chest thumped. She wanted to stand next to him in front of all of their friends. The barriers they’d thrown up before were beginning to crumble; being with Scarlett was worth the risk of losing his found family. Because if he lost her, what use would he have for anyone else?
He nudged her nose with his own. “Are you sure you want everyone to know you’re dating me?”
How would she react the first time someone called him the village idiot?
Her smile was soft and bright, nothing like the megawatt smile she used to hide. This one had a hint of vulnerability, an undertone of tenderness. “I’m sure, Archer.”
“Then yes, I’ll be your date.”
Her smile brightened, and then Archer rolled onto his back and brought her along so she landed atop him. He bracketed her hips with his hands and made small circles on her skin with his thumbs. He couldn’t get enough of her. The softness of her skin. The give of her flesh. Her warmth. Her weight. She was utter perfection given human form.
And she was his.
Scarlett let out a little whimper as her hips ground against him, her hands falling to the pillow by his head. Archer swept his hands up her spine and worked the clasp of her bra open. She tossed the garment aside, and his hands moved without his conscious input to mold over her pert breasts. Perfect pink nipples tightened as he stroked them, and Scarlett let out a soft sigh. Her hips rolled and bucked and ground, and Archer’s wits were stripped away with every brush of her against his underwear-clad cock.
Hazy eyes met his as Scarlett let out a gasp that turned to a moan. She rode him, her hands curling against his chest, her hair falling down in a heavy curtain on either side of her face.
And when she moved off him to tug off his boxers, Archer lifted his hips to help. His thoughts splintered; all that existed was the touch of her palm against his thigh, her breath across his stomach. At the first touch of her hand around his shaft, he jerked.
The smile Scarlett gave him was pure wickedness. Then her tongue lapped at the weeping slit atop his shaft, and Archer let out a garbled noise that might have been her name. His hand fisted in her hair as she took him between her lips, and Archer had to fight the urge to buck into the wet warmth of her mouth.
“Babe—sweetheart— Scarlett .” Vision going white, Archer could only cling to her hair with one hand and the duvet with the other. He gasped, looking down to see her mouth stretched around him as it moved up and down his glistening shaft. He’d never seen anything hotter in his entire life.
She took him deeper, and Archer nearly lost it. Pulling her up by the handful of hair he still held in his fist, he relished the soft pop of her lips as they released him. She gasped, chest heaving and flushed, looking debauched and nearly delirious with lust.
“Get up here and ride my face, sweetheart.” He grabbed her by the underarms and hauled her up, shimmying down at the same time. Growling in frustration at the sight of her panties still covering her, Archer tugged. The lace tore in his hands, and Scarlett let out an outraged gasp. Archer met her gaze, grinning, and tossed the scrap aside.
Then he lifted her by her thighs and brought her center to his mouth so he could return the favor.