Chapter Five
Zoey quickly grew a little tired of Archer standing near the doorway like a soldier. Sure, this was his job, but did he have to make it so obvious? Every now and then when things got slow, she’d go up to him and make a funny face, sticking out her tongue.
He blinked. “Why are you doing that?”
“Well, you’re acting like you’re in the King’s Guard, so I thought I’d make a face and see if I can get you to smile the way the tourists do.”
He lowered his aviator shades and peered at her over them. “I will smile when something is funny.”
Twyla stopped in at lunch, bringing Zoey a turkey sandwich from the Salty Dog. Archer nodded to Twyla as she walked by, and when his back was to her, she mouthed to Zoey, “Wow.”
Yes, “wow,” and too bad he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in Zoey. She supposed it would be too much to ask to get both a handsome bodyguard and a date for Sweetheart Day.
“My new bodyguard, courtesy of my father.”
“That’s the best shop decoration ever,” Twyla said, speaking softly. “When we joked about making him a doorman, well, I didn’t seriously think he’d look like a superhot bouncer.”
“You thought he’d be a middle-aged man? Balding, with a paunch?”
“Exactly,” Twyla said, then studied the ceiling. “On the other hand, I just remembered Ronan Sheridan is a bodyguard and he’s incredibly hot. Maybe it’s a job qualification.”
“They’re calling it executive protection now.” Zoey made air quotes. “But technically he is a bodyguard. I read up on it last night.”
“Hey, maybe he’ll still be here for Sweetheart Day.” Twyla took a sip of her Cheerwine. “And he could be your plus one.”
“If he’s still here by then, it’s because my daddy has money to burn.”
“He wouldn’t call protecting his only child burning money.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, and I also know your daddy does have money to burn.”
Zoey sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t waste his money on me. There are other people he could help.”
It was still top secret, but a while ago when Twyla’s bookstore was in trouble, Zoey arranged on the down-low for her father to come in as an “angel” investor.
To this day, Twyla had no idea whom the money had come from, but it didn’t have to be repaid, and it had saved her third-generation family bookstore.
Maybe someday Zoey would tell her best friend, but for now, she privately enjoyed the fact that her father had the means to help her friends, too.
And who knew? Maybe someday Zoey would also have a multigenerational family business with Glamtique.
She already felt her mother’s presence here—a silent business partner, if you will—but if she were so blessed as to someday have a little girl, or a boy who loved fashion, and they had a child… it could happen.
“You don’t have the decorations up yet,” Twyla said with a pout.
“I’ve got all the boxes down. I’ll take care of that this afternoon.”
Twyla hooked a thumb toward Archer. “He’s even taller than you are. Have him help you.”
Zoey shook her head then reconsidered. “You know what, my friend? You are an evil genius.”
She was going to have such fun, watching her sulky and way-too-serious bodyguard, as he helped her tape yellow and orange hearts, pumpkins and leaves in the window.
Twyla took off, greeting Lois Finch as she passed her walking into the shop.
“Weren’t you in that men’s cologne commercial? Dolce & Gabbana?” Lois asked Archer, as she looked him up and down.
“I think it was Giorgio Armani,” said a pretty redhead behind Lois. She was holding a baby in a front pack.
“No, ma’am,” Archer said. “It was not me.”
Zoey smothered a laugh and walked over to greet Lois, who was not a regular customer. She wanted her to feel welcome so that she’d return more often. The holidays were coming up—a chance to make more money in three months than she’d made so far that year.
“How can I help you?”
“Zoey, meet my dear friend Ruby.” Lois gestured to the redhead next to her. “She just had a baby girl a few weeks ago and nothing fits like it used to.”
“Sweet baby.” Zoey peeked at the little face framed with red curls, bundled inside the baby carrier. “Are you shopping for a special occasion?”
“A nice dinner with my husband. We were in town a little over a year ago, so we’re making it a yearly tradition.”
“Nothing too fancy, then?” Zoey led them toward the section of the store that carried day dresses and other casual wear.
“Well,” Ruby said, “it is special. We reunited that day, and he dressed up and bought me a dress, too, to wear to dinner at the fancy hotel where we stayed. We’re staying there again, so—”
Zoey slapped a hand over her mouth and lowered it. “Was he the cowboy who came in looking for some ‘fancy duds’? Did he buy you a beautiful pink cocktail dress?”
“Yes, that’s Wyatt. It’s hard to forget him, that’s for sure.” Ruby grinned. “But the dress just doesn’t fit anymore.”
“Say no more!” Zoey led Ruby and Lois to her rack of extra special dresses, from which she’d picked out the pink dress for Ruby a year ago.
“Needs to be kinda fancy,” he’d drawled. “I have to talk her into coming back home with me.”
Now the three of them flipped through Zoey’s designer collection until she came up with three dresses she thought might fit Ruby.
Lois helped her unstrap the precious little baby from her chest and held him, while Ruby tried on all three dresses, eventually deciding on the perfect one, in Zoey’s opinion: a powder blue dress with an A-line waist and a flowing skirt.
After they paid and were on their way, the day began to slow.
There was always a quiet time in the late afternoon until it picked up again in the early evening.
Zoey usually closed at seven, but she had longer hours closer to the holidays.
Archer had been standing for hours, the poor man, with nothing better to do than answer questions as to whether or not he’d been in some Giorgio Armani commercial or not. Zoey felt bad for him.
“Sorry,” she said. “Not much excitement around here for you.”
“That is the way I like it.”
“But you must be bored. Actually, I could use your help, since it seems I’m not in mortal danger at the moment.”
He turned. “What can I do for you?”
* * *
The boxes of fall decor were all open by the time nine o’clock rolled around, and Zoey had tasked Archer with taping yellow and orange hearts to the storefront window. The shop had a box window, making it perfect for displays and a mannequin or two. Every holiday she went all out.
“Why orange hearts and not red ones?” Archer reached up to stick a paper heart to the upper part of the window. Despite being so tall, he still required a small stool.
Zoey climbed up on the ledge beside him. She had kicked off her heels and was barefoot. “It’s fall now, and that’s the color scheme.”
“Yes, but it is usually leaves and pumpkins for fall, no?”
“True, and I do have those, too, but I need hearts for Sweetheart Day.” Zoey dug through another box, pulling out some pumpkins, trees and leaves.
“Sweetheart Day?”
Whenever Archer looked perplexed, a deep crease formed between his eyebrows.
“Look.” Zoey cleared her throat. “December has Christmas, November has Thanksgiving, and October has Halloween. What does September have? Nothing. And you don’t know me, but I’m a big fan of love. In all its many forms. That is agape, philia, storge and eros.”
The four types of love: sacrificial, friendship, familial and romantic.
“You are a fan of love?” Archer gave her a look as if she’d just said something incomprehensible.
She sincerely hoped this guy wasn’t one of those “down with love” types. So retro. So overdone.
“What? Is something wrong with that?” Zoey plunked her hands on her hips.
“It’s like saying you’re a fan of oxygen.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t the response she’d expected.
“You can’t live without oxygen, you can’t live without love.” He shrugged.
“It’s good you agree! And so, what I’ve done as a champion of love, is give it another special day.
September was just crying out to be known for something other than pumpkin spice lattes.
Which are great, of course, but c’mon! So, when I was a little girl, I created Sweetheart Day on September 14. And now I celebrate it every year.”
“Like Valentine’s Day on February 14.” Archer nodded. “I like it. It is not a national holiday, so no one is forced to buy flowers or a card.”
“Right. It’s something I celebrate with family and friends.”
“And that special someone?”
“Well, when there is someone. This year, there isn’t.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. There is someone but the feeling isn’t mutual.”
She nodded and handed Archer the string of orange lights that would go from one end of the window to the other. “The thing is, like so many of the men I date, he was more interested in getting to know my father than me.”
“The NFL legend?”
“He’s kind of a big deal.” Zoey sighed. “Especially if you’re from Texas.”
At this, he nearly smiled. “No offense but I much prefer what Europeans call football.”
“No offense taken, but it’s soccer,” Zoey said, reaching to pin a section of the string lights.
“If you say so.”
She snorted, but it was pretty amazing to find someone who wasn’t a huge fan of Patch Lambert.
“Where are you from?”
“Connecticut is where my mother, father and sisters still live,” he said. “But I’ve been living in Texas since I first signed up for the service. Texas is home.”
“I’ve always wanted to live somewhere where the leaves change colors in autumn. We don’t have that in this part of South Texas.”
Once, when she was younger, her family had taken a trip to New England in the fall. Zoey had always wanted to go back, but shortly after that vacation, her mother got ill for the first time. Suddenly, there had been far more pressing matters.
By the time they were finished decorating, the window display was magic. A splash of color, with orange twinkle lights, pumpkins and hearts, decorated in trademark Glamtique style. On each step of a small rustic ladder sat a pumpkin.
“Something’s missing.” Zoey tapped her chin while judging the display from outside.
Archer shook his head. “No…nothing.”
Zoey held up her finger. “I know! Ophelia.”
“Nothing is missing!” But Archer followed her into the storage room in the back.
She heard him curse and she whipped around, prepared to tell him she didn’t need his opinion on this matter and he could leave if he wished, but then she noticed his face had become a mask of pain. He bent to touch his left boot.
“Are you okay?”
With all her experience with injuries, Zoey could be overzealous at times.
Once, Twyla had fallen off a ladder in her bookstore and was knocked out cold.
Zoey had been terrified she’d lost her best friend.
And then, of course, there was her father: she and her mother would dote on him after an injury, taking him to doctor’s appointments and physical therapy.
Zoey was well acquainted with the inside of a hospital well before her mother got sick.
Suffice it to say, she could tell when someone was hurting.
And she had no doubt that Archer was hurt.
“I am fine,” he said through gritted teeth, straightening to his full height.
Seems Archer was one of those people who preferred to let everyone think he was indestructible. Very much like her father. The only times she ever heard her parents bicker was when her father had taken another hard hit on the field.
“Think of your family. Your daughter. One more hit to the head and you might not make it,” her mother would plead. “We need you more than the fans do.”
“I can’t quit the game. My players need me and I made a commitment to the team,” her father had said every time.
The arguments would go on for a while, and they would inevitably end with her mother giving in to her dad because she had no choice. She loved a man obsessed with the game and she had to take everything that came with it.
“I feel bad if you injured yourself helping me,” Zoey said.
“No, I didn’t. It’s fine.”
She didn’t know Archer well enough to press further, so she let it go. Maybe he didn’t want her to worry that she had a second-rate bodyguard, but for the love of God, had he looked in the mirror recently?
Zoey reached for her naked, headless mannequin and carried her to the front of the store.
Time to dress Ophelia again. She began grabbing clothes off the rack.
Slacks, a sweater, a colorful scarf. She’d complete the outfit with a kickass pair of knee-high boots.
This mannequin would be placed next to the barrel of apples Zoey would pick up tomorrow. Perfect.
“I’m going to dress Ophelia in a new season-appropriate outfit. It’s the only thing missing from the window. Well, that and a barrel of apples. I’ll get the apples fresh from the market.”
“You named her?” Archer narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, Ophelia and I are old friends. I found her for a bargain.”
“Yeah, that’s not weird at all.”
Zoey shook a finger at him. “No judging, please. Here, help me pull her pants on. As long as you’re here.”
Like her, Archer did not have a light complexion, so if he blushed, she couldn’t see it. But he did hesitate a moment before he pulled the sweater over Ophelia’s torso.
“This is strange.”
“What? Not in your usual job description?” Zoey teased while she pulled on Ophelia’s pants one leg at a time.
He snorted his answer.
When they were done, Zoey locked up and went outside, Archer following her. That’s when they both noticed, sitting just outside the storefront, a bouquet of red roses lying on the ground.
Archer picked them up and handed them to Zoey. “Read the card.”
Zoey did and couldn’t believe her eyes. “They’re from Scott.”