Chapter Thirteen
On the good news front, Zoey had dropped a clue the size of Texas that she was attracted to Archer.
Rules be damned! She wasn’t much of a rule follower, anyway, never had been.
On the bad news front, she wasn’t sure he didn’t think this was all a ruse, as he’d initially suggested pretending that he was her boyfriend.
Not only had Archer ignored her comment about her crush being Italian—or pretended she couldn’t mean him—Scott had texted back:
So, who is this guy?
She hadn’t texted him back, considering the possibility that Archer—and her father, and well…pretty much everyone—could be right, and she might be a little too nice.
Over the next few days, Archer and Zoey were together from sunup to sundown, with her insisting on making him both breakfast and dinner.
He retired to his guest bedroom at the end of the evening, and she went to hers, alone.
On Saturday, after she’d closed up shop and they were home, Archer once more brought up the idea of canceling the party.
He’d mentioned it every couple of days in an offhanded kind of way.
Like, “Are you still having that event?” To which she’d unfailingly respond, “Are you out of your mind? Of course!”
Now, when he asked her again, she turned to him, as he sat facing her on one of the stools in the kitchen. “It’s a week away! I can’t cancel now.”
“But explain. What’s so special about this event?” He picked up one of the shiny red apples in her fruit bowl and bit into it.
“I already told you,” she said, reaching for a pan so she could start a quick dinner.
The main course was a pumpkin pasta recipe she’d looked up online, served with pumpkin spice tea and her pumpkin cupcakes.
He didn’t complain about her food, just raised a brow every time she said pumpkin.
He’d told her once that he’d be drunk in two minutes if he took a shot every time she said pumpkin.
He wasn’t wrong.
Every day, Archer insisted that she didn’t have to feed him, but he also didn’t hesitate to finish his plate.
She’d explained over and over that this was what her mother used to do with their family bodyguards, and it just seemed natural to her.
Besides, it was Saturday night and she’d invited Twyla over, too, so that the three of them could go over the logistics of the party.
Twyla was in charge of the guest list and Archer had been asking for this meeting so he could get his hands on it.
It shocked her to think he was actually going to do background checks on all of her guests.
“The party is my annual tradition and it means a lot to me.” She chopped garlic and stirred in some olive oil as the base.
“You’ve said that, but why?”
“I’ve already told you that I am a champion of love.”
“And there are a million people who feel the same, but they don’t have a party to celebrate it every year.”
She sighed. “I don’t see why I should cancel. You know I could take Scott easy, and with you here, we truly have nothing to worry about. I don’t even think he’s going to show up.”
When Twyla arrived on schedule, carrying with her a bottle of wine, Zoey hugged her tight and whispered, “He’s a little on edge about the party.”
Twyla got the message: Assure Archer the party guests would behave like relatives of Mother Teresa.
“It is nice to see you again.” Archer nodded. “I am enjoying the book. So far only one dead body but I am hopeful.”
Twyla chuckled. “Be patient, more are coming.”
Zoey led them into the living room, where she’d laid out a spread on the coffee table: a charcuterie board piled with cheese, olives, grapes, crackers and rolled slices of deli meat formed in the shape of hearts. A pitcher of pumpkin spice tea sat nearby next to three iced tumblers.
“How sweet. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Nonsense, you’re my guest.” She turned to Archer, standing by as always, like a soldier who needed to be ordered “at ease.” “Twyla’s husband owns Nacho Boat Adventures, and he had a big event of his own today. You’ll meet him at the party.”
“Here’s the guest list of those who’ve RSVPed.” Twyla pulled it out of her purse and handed it to Archer, who started to peruse it immediately.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to do a quick check on these guests.” He took off down the hallway toward the guest room, and Zoey plopped down next to Twyla on the sofa, helping herself to an olive.
“I see what you mean,” Twyla said. “He’s very serious all the time, isn’t he? Even when he jokes.”
Zoey reached for Twyla’s hands. “He’s going to do a background check on each one of my guests, including you and Noah. I’m so sorry.”
Twyla shrugged. “He’s going to find out about that speeding ticket I got last year.”
“Oh, you and Noah are fine, but good grief! Can anybody say they’ve had a perfect past?”
Twyla frowned. “I’m thinking he’s looking for serious things like assault and battery. He is being paid a salary, so I can understand why he’s doing it. I’m sure it’s not much of a hardship to simply hang out with you every day.”
Zoey smirked. “Except for when a customer comes in and I make him work. I love watching him sweat when the ladies ask him for his opinion.”
“You’re so mean.” Twyla laughed. “I like seeing this side of you. How come you’re not nice to him like you are to everybody else?”
“I’m not mean. I’m flirting.”
“I’ve forgotten you angry-flirt.” Twyla smiled and popped a grape in her mouth. “Well, he definitely notices you, if that helps.”
“He does?”
“Yes, there’s definitely an awareness going on there. I can sense it.”
“Well, I’m not sure he’s getting the message,” Zoey said, and handed Twyla her phone. “Check out the last text I sent to Scott.”
Twyla read and her eyes widened. “That’s pretty direct. And also, he’s Italian? Why did you feel the need to add that?”
“Why do you think? Archer has been advising me on what to tell Scott so he’ll stop texting me and sending me gifts. I thought he should see what I wrote. And I loaded it with a big clue.”
Twyla laughed. “And…?”
Zoey shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Well, you need to consider that this is his job and he doesn’t want to be inappropriate.”
“It’s not inappropriate when he’s given an invitation, is it?” Zoey said.
“How many have been given an invitation?” Archer’s voice boomed from the hallway, making Zoey jump.
“Um, uh…” Zoey elbowed Twyla. “How many?”
“We sent out twenty with plus-ones, but so far only fifteen have RSVPed.”
Archer nodded. “And Scott, he is not invited, right?”
“Oh, no,” Twyla assured him. “He’s definitely not.”
Archer quirked a brow. “So, twenty guests and their plus-ones, which makes forty people.”
“It’s fine. We have plenty of room!” Zoey waved her hand dismissively.
“There’s room, yes, but this whole plus-one thing…how do you know who is the plus-one?”
“He’s got a point,” Twyla said. “We don’t know. I’m only assuming no one will bring Scott, but that’s not out of the question. We have mutuals.”
“Exactly.” Archer nodded.
“Okay, so what do we do? Check people at the door? As in, show me your papers?” Zoey said facetiously.
“No,” Archer said patiently. “It is a free country. But if Scott comes to the party, either we ask him to leave, or I’m afraid you will find yourself with a shadow all night.”
“I told you I don’t want people to know I have a bodyguard.”
“I’ve got it!” Twyla stood. “You can pretend he’s your date!”
“My…date?” Zoey said.
It was basically what Archer had suggested they tell people at her shop, but that wouldn’t have made any sense at all. At a party, though, it was reasonable. It would also give her a chance to flirt more openly with him under the guise of plausible deniability.
“Just for the night!” Twyla said. “It makes sense. That way no one will wonder why this man is sticking so close to you.”
“But what if Scott doesn’t show up?”
“It still works,” Twyla said.
Archer nodded. “I agree. It’s the best way to handle it. Either you let everyone know I’m your bodyguard, or…”
“I know, I get it.” Zoey held up her palms in an “I give up” gesture. “Fine.”
Truthfully, she wasn’t the least bit mad about it.
* * *
The next day, Zoey went for a morning swim before work.
It was Sunday and not part of her regular routine, but the exercise had started to help with some of the stress she felt surrounding the party.
She could meditate in the water. Something was not right about all of this. She could feel it in her bones.
Archer was keeping something from her, and she had no idea if it had something to do with her or if he had a secret of his own.
But she hadn’t heard from Scott again after his last direct message, and Scott had never been a violent person.
She couldn’t shake the thought that he wasn’t the problem, that there was something else, and she wished she could get to the bottom of it.
She dived under the water, hoping to clear her head, but when she came up at the other end, she saw the boots on the ledge. Her gaze slid up to look at the man who belonged to those boots. Archer, standing by to take her to work, at the ready.
“Only in South Texas can you swim outside in September,” he said.
“And Florida and California,” she reminded him.
“This is not your usual day for a swim. You’re off schedule.”
She pushed back and smiled. “Why don’t you join me? It’s good exercise.”
He held up a hand. “No, I’m on duty.”
“I guess you’re always on duty,” she said, doing the backstroke.
“When I’m with you, yes.”
“It’s like you don’t have any downtime.”
“When we’re on assignments, we usually don’t get much of that. Of course, with more serious situations, there is a team and we take shifts. Eight- to twelve-hour shifts, then time off.”
“So, this is just one very long shift to you, is it?”
“Well, yes.” He took a seat on one of her wicker chairs. “I have some good news and some bad news about your guest list.”
She’d been wondering about the security checks but didn’t want to sound like she was digging for dirt on her friends. Archer would tell her if something was important enough to pass on.
“And? Which one of my friends is wanted by the law?”
“No one,” Archer said, tipping back on his heels. “A few of them have trouble obeying the speed limit, a few divorces, nothing unusual or remotely dangerous.”
“I’m glad.”
“But people are unpredictable. I still want you to consider canceling the party.”
“No,” she said, and swam away.
Zoey completed one last lap and then climbed out of the pool.
Today, she’d taken pity on Archer—or given up on flirting—and worn her one-piece racer back suit that revealed nothing but a lot of leg.
When she reached for her cover-up, she caught him purposefully not looking in her direction.
His aviator shades were on, and he had a scowl firmly planted on his face.
She toweled off, then sat on the chair across from his.
“How did you luck into this assignment? Are you the rookie? Or do you all draw straws to take the worst jobs?”
Archer didn’t answer, but instead turned to her and lowered his shades to peer at her over them. “What do you think?”
“Oh, my God, you’re being punished, aren’t you?”
“What makes you think you’re the worst job?”
“We’re talking about Scott here! I mean the lowest level threat, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes, true. But that’s not the only way assignments are measured. There are other factors, like location and the type of client. Some are difficult and unpleasant. You’re by far the best client. I was lucky to get this assignment.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. But I imagine no one wants these boring assignments. There’s no action for you adrenaline junkies.”
“What makes you say I’m an adrenaline junkie?”
“You seem like the type.”
“Boring is good.” He removed his shades and pocketed them. “But yes, I made a mistake on a past assignment. And I’m a new hire.”
“What was the mistake? Did you get involved with your client?”
Hope sprang eternal.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No. I mistakenly thought that a man was reaching in his jacket for a gun, so I tackled him. It turned out he was the client’s brother and he was just reaching for his cell phone. No threat to her at all.”
Zoey bit her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Oh, dear.”
“It’s okay, you can laugh.” Archer’s lips quirked in a smile. “It is funny now. Even to me.”
“It seems like a mistake anyone could make.”
“There you go, being too nice again.”
“Is that a crime? I don’t know why we can’t all be kinder to each other.
You never know what kind of battle someone is fighting.
You don’t know what kind of day they had when they cut you off in traffic and curse.
Maybe they just got fired, or their spouse asked for a divorce.
It could be the worst day of their life.
We need to stop judging each other so much. ”
“More people should be like you, Zoey, but then I would be out of a job.”
“Well, I don’t want that.”
They simply gazed at each other for a long moment. Then Zoey looked away because his intensity was almost too much for her. He was…simply smoldering. And that mouth of his, so generous and sexy.
“You would never consider getting involved with a client?” Zoey asked. “Just…out of curiosity.”
“It’s against the rules and unethical.” His amber eyes were shimmering.
Damn, she hated rules that cost jobs.
“I wouldn’t want you to lose your job.”
She lowered her head, not meeting his eyes. This felt so impossible.
Archer rose. “I’ll wait for you inside.”
She watched him swing open the patio doors and disappear inside the house.
Why were the good ones always out of reach?