Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Archer opened his front door and found a sexy man sitting in the halo of his porch light.
Elton was leaning back in a rocker, his booted feet propped on the porch rail, his long legs clad in worn denim, and yesterday’s dark trench traded for an insulated work jacket. He looked like he was ready for a day in the vineyard.
“I’m impressed,” Archer said, closing the door behind him.
Six was still a half hour off, but by the comfortable look of him, Elton had been wide awake and waiting for him for a while.
And if the rich, chicory-laced aroma wafting from the mug in his hand was any indication, he’d also raided Ezra’s barn stash of overpriced coffee.
“My life operates on DC time most days,” the assistant director said.
“Whether I’m there or not.” He stretched an arm toward the floor on his other side and righted himself with a second mug. “For you.”
“Not gonna turn that down.” He sipped the pricey, delicious brew and let his gaze wander over the lake, then past the tree line to the morning sky that was beginning to lighten.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Elton asked.
“Pruning mostly, some irrigation work, maybe some blending. And goats.”
“Goats?”
“Well, I can bend down to pull what’s left of the weeds or I can spare my fifty-five-year-old back and let Ruby’s goats do it.”
“Work smarter, not harder.”
“Exactly.” He took another sip, then jutted his chin toward Elton’s scuffed and faded boots, the opposite of yesterday’s shiny ones. “Those look like they’ve seen some hard work.”
“Volunteer services in Oakland.” He tapped his toes and bits of sawdust floated into the air. “Mostly repairing houses and building ramps for vets, plus the occasional clean-out.”
“And you brought them with you?”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “Why are you interrogating me?”
“It’s you or the birds.” Which were singing up a storm this morning, excited for the rising sun after days of rain.
Elton lowered his feet and stood while his voice dropped the opposite direction, practically rumbling.
“I’m a Bureau EAD. If I want something .
. .” He loomed over Archer in a way that made him consider all the possible meanings of those words, that made Archer want to take him inside rather than out into the vineyard.
And then the heated bubble burst, Elton lifting his mug again and slurping a sip. “Like this coffee.” At Archer’s quirked brow, he added, “Lotta lockpicks in my life these days. And Ezra’s locks are shit.”
Archer couldn’t help but laugh at this man’s many contradictions. “You keep ruining all my special agent notions.”
Heat flared in Elton’s dark gaze, followed by a chaser of doubt, before both were replaced by his typical easy smile. “Let’s hope I don’t also ruin your vines.” On the heels of the other emotions, his usual casual charm seemed almost forced today.
Archer didn’t like it. Didn’t like Elton stepping back either, Archer instantly missing the heat of his body.
Missing his carefree teasing and sinful grins.
He wanted to ask Elton to ruin him instead.
He suspected that that’s what the surprising federal agent had wanted to offer too, but for some reason, Elton had pulled back.
Archer could wait. He’d been waiting fifteen years.
“You can handle it,” he teased Elton instead, letting him take from that whatever he needed. About the vines or otherwise.