Archer's Voice (13 page)

I didn't think you'd be up this early,
he said.

I ran down the slope
and stopped right in front of him, grinning broadly, my excitement bubbling out of me. I laughed, looking in his beautiful face. I still wasn't used to seeing all of it. Or most of it at least. He still desperately needed a haircut.

I didn't have a flashback this morning,
I said, my hands moving quickly.

He frowned, looking at me confused.

I shook my head, laughing a small laugh.
I guess I just can't believe it… I mean, I always have one. Every day. I've had one every single day for six months,
I said, my hands moving quickly, my eyes filling with tears.

Archer kept looking at me, understanding coming into his eyes
, a flash of compassion moving over his expression.

I have to go let Phoebe out and feed her
,
I said, swiping quickly at my tears. I took Archer in again, joy washing through my body. He had given me an incredible gift and I was giddy. I wanted to spend the day with him and I didn't care that I was always the one doing the asking.
Can I come back later?
I blurted out, looking at him expectantly.

His eyes moved over my face for a couple beats and then he nodded his head.

I grinned. "Okay," I breathed out. I stepped forward and his eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly. He didn't wrap his arms around me, but he let me hug him.

After a minute, I stepped back and smiled at him again.
I'll be back.

Okay
.

Okay,
I said again, grinning bigger.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he just nodded at me.

I turned around and ran up the wooded slope to his house and then up his driveway. My bike was leaning against the inside of his fence. I wheeled it through the gate and started for home. Here and there, I coasted down the dirt road with my head tilted up to the sky, feeling happy, feeling alive, feeling
free
.

Bree

When I got home, I let Phoebe outside to do her business. I felt lighter, happier, as if I had shed the chains that had held me tied to the pain and grief of my loss for the last six months. As I stood in the bright sunshine waiting for Phoebe, a feeling of deep peace washed over me. I would never, ever forget my dad. He would be with me in everything I did for the rest of my life. Letting go of the chains of grief and guilt didn't mean letting go of
him
. My dad loved me, he would want me to be happy. The relief that flooded my body almost made me sob. I choked back the emotion and called to Phoebe, walking back inside.

After I'd fed her, I sat down and
drank a cup of tea. I thought about my dad the whole time I sat there, remembering special moments we'd shared, reminiscing about the little quirks he had, picturing his face so clearly in my mind. I focused on what I had had, on what some people never got for even a minute. I had had him for twenty-one years. I was
lucky
–I had been blessed. When I stood up to put my dishes in the sink, I was smiling.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes.
My scratches looked a lot better. Apparently, the ointment that Archer had applied had worked.

Archer… I sighed, so many confusing emotions and feelings swirling through my body. A warm feeling filled my chest whenever I thought of him
.

I wanted to know his story. I wanted to know everything about him. But instinctively, I knew that I shouldn't push the issue of what had happened the day his uncle shot him. The Chief of Police,
his uncle
, shot him. God, how did you wrap your mind around that? And what the
hell
had happened to bring that about?

A half an hour later I was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, my hair dry and put up in a ponytail.

As I was slipping on my flip flops, I glanced at my phone sitting on the top of the dresser and picked it up. It had two messages. I listened. They were both from Travis. I threw the phone back down. I'd call him back, just not right now.

I lifted Phoebe and started outside to head back to Archer's house.
I considered something as I was about to close my door and turned back. A few minutes later, I was riding away from my cottage toward Briar Road.

**********

"Hey." I smiled when Archer opened the door to his house. He had left his gate slightly open so I could enter and bring my bike inside and let Phoebe head off to find Kitty and the pups.

He smiled back and opened the door wider for me to enter.

I went inside and turned back around to him. I took a deep breath.
Thanks for having me back here, Archer.
I bit my lip, considering.
I hope you don't mind… after last night… there was no other place in the world I wanted to be than here, with you today.
I tilted my head, studying him.
Thank you.

He watched my hands as I spoke, looking up into my eyes finally, a pleased expression on his face.
He nodded at me and I smiled. I took him in.

He was wearing the same worn jeans that looked like they could
disintegrate at any second and a tight, navy blue t-shirt. His feet were bare… and as I looked down, I saw that they did look a lot better, mostly because the swelling had gone down. But the cuts and scratches still looked painful. I grimaced.

Archer's eyes followed mine down to his feet.

They're fine, Bree
.

I was still doubtful, but I nodded anyway.

He smiled.

I tilted my head to the side.
So, Archer, I brought something with me, but before I show you, I just want you to know that if you don't like the idea… or… just want to say no to me, I'll completely understand.

He raised an eyebrow.
This sounds scary.

I breathed out a small laugh.
No… just… well, let me show you.
I went over to the small bag I had brought and pulled out my scissors.

Archer looked at them warily.

I thought you might want a haircut,
I said, and then hurried on,
but if you don't, that's okay too. I'm not saying you need one, but, well, you need one. But I can also just take off a little–more like a trim.

He smiled a s
lightly embarrassed smile and put his hand on the back of his neck, but then took it down and looked up at me.
I'd like that
.

I grinned.
You would? Okay! I mean, I'm not the greatest, but I can make it straight. I trimmed my dad's hair many times.

He smiled.
Cut as much as you want, Bree.

Well, what do you want? I'll do whatever you'd like.

He looked at me, something warm coming into his eyes, although he didn't smile. He looked at me seriously, swallowing before he said,
I want you to like it. Do whatever you want.

I hesitated, not wanting him to feel like he was doing something he didn't want to do.
You sure?

Very
, he said, walking into the kitchen and pulling one of the chairs from his kitchen table into the middle of the floor where the hair could be easily swept up.

I went to his bathroom and got a towel
and the comb sitting on his sink, and then joined him in the kitchen, wrapping the towel over his shoulders.

I began cutting his hair, focusing on the
work of measuring and evening. He had told me I could do what I wanted and so I was going to go short. I wanted to see his face, and I had a vague notion that he used his hair to hide. Was it my job to strip him of that? No. But he had given me permission and so I was going to take it. It would grow back if he wanted it to.

I sat the comb aside and used my fingers to comb through his
dark, silky hair before using the scissors. Running my hands through his thick, very slightly wavy strands felt intimate and sensual and my pulse rate rose as I moved my body around his, cutting the back first, and then the front. Each time I ran my hand slowly along his scalp, Archer shivered slightly. I leaned in closely as I worked with his hair, drawing in the scent of his shampoo and his clean smell. He smelled like soap, but just underneath that was the musky scent of his maleness, and it made my tummy clench with desire.

As I moved in front of him, smoothing the hair back from his forehead, I looked down into his face and his eyes met mine
right before he closed them tightly. It looked almost as if he was in pain, and my heart clenched. Had anyone since his mother touched him with tenderness?

I continued to work and when I leaned in close to get the hair above his ear, his breath hitched. My eyes darted to his face again.
His pupils were dilated slightly and his lips were parted. My nipples hardened under my t-shirt and Archer's eyes moved down, widening when he honed in on my chest. His eyes shot to the side, those red patches appearing on his upper cheekbones, and he fisted his hands which were sitting on his muscular thighs.

I leaned over him to snip more hair, my chest co
ming in close to his face. I heard his breath hitch and begin to come out faster, little exhalations of air breaking the silence of the kitchen. I glanced down as I leaned back and saw his arousal through his pants, thick and hard.

I quickly moved around behind him, evening
his hair some more, and trying to get my own breathing under control. My eyes felt glassy, and I hoped I was doing okay–I couldn't concentrate, wetness pooling between my thighs. I was so turned on I could barely stand–at his nearness, the way it felt to touch him, and the knowledge that I was affecting him too. I'd never gotten aroused this quickly–and from a freaking haircut. But clearly, he was right there with me.

As I moved around to stand in front of him again, I could see he was trembling very slightly.

"There," I whispered. "You're done. It looks really good, Archer." I knelt down in front of him and swallowed hard when I took in the complete look.

I se
t the scissors down on the counter in back of me and turned back around, kneeling up as high as I could go and moving closer to him, my heart beating loudly in my ears and between my legs. I gazed up at him, glancing quickly at his mouth. His eyes darted quickly to my lips as well. God, I wanted him to kiss me so badly I ached.

He stared down
at me and swallowed thickly, his adam's apple moving in his throat and his scar pulling upwards. As we stared at each other, uncertainty moved across his face, and he balled his fists more tightly on his thighs.

Suddenly
, he scooted the chair back and stood up and, shocked, so did I.

You
need to go now,
he said.

Go?
I asked.
Why, Archer, I'm sorry, did I–

He shook his head. I
could see his pulse beating in his neck.
No, nothing, I just… have things to do. You should go.
He was breathing harshly as if he'd just run five miles. In all the times I'd watched Archer do physical labor, I'd never seen him become breathless from it. He looked pleadingly at me.

"Okay," I whispered
, color moving up my face. "Okay."

I gathered my scissors and walked to the main room to put them in my purse. I turned to Archer.

Are you sure? I didn't–

Yes, please, yes,
he said.

My eyes moved downward and I could see that he was still fully hard. I swallowed again. I didn't know what to think. Was he embarrassed that he was turned on? Or was he upset that he
was turned on by me? Had I been too forward? Did he just want to be friends and I had totally mis-read him? Hurt and confusion clouded my mind.

"Okay," I said again, moving toward his door.

He grabbed my arm gently as I passed him and I startled slightly.
I'm sorry. I really do appreciate the haircut.

I stared at him again, noting how beautiful he looked, freshly shaven, the new haircut and the same flush high on his cheeks, his eyes glassy, the golden
brown color even brighter than usual.

I nodded and walked out his door. Phoebe was on the porch so I scooped her up and hurried out Archer's gate.

Bree

I rode home slowly. By the time I was turning onto my street, I realized that I didn't remember any of my ride home. I had ridden in a fog, oblivious to anything around me, solely focused on my feelings of confusion and hurt.

As my cottage came into sight, I saw a big truck parked in front and a figure standing on my porch. What the heck?

As I rode closer, I saw that it was Travis. I got off my bike and leaned it against my fence, picked Phoebe up and walked toward him, a confused smile on my face.

"Hey, stranger," he said, coming toward me.

I laughed softly. "I'm sorry, Travis. I'm not trying to be a stranger and I did get your messages. I've just been really busy." I met him at the base of my stairs.

He brought his hand through his hair. "I'm not trying to stalk you." He smiled an embarrassed smile. "It's just, I really enjoyed spending tim
e with you the other night, and the town is holding a police and fire department parade in a few weeks. There's always a dinner afterwards to honor my father–it's kind of a big deal for the town… I was really hoping you'd come with me." He smiled. "Of course, I hope you'll do something with me sooner than that, but I wanted to make sure I asked you in advance about the dinner. It's important to me."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to do.
And then it occurred to me–his father was the man who had shot Archer. Honor him? How could I? I didn't want to hurt Travis–I liked him. I just liked Archer more. Oh God. I did. I really, really did. But Archer had thrown me out of his house, whereas Travis was making a concerted effort to track me down to spend time with me. Even if it was for an event that I didn't feel comfortable attending. I just wanted to go inside my house and think about things. I wanted to be alone.

I smil
ed. "Travis, can I think about it? I'm sorry… that whole complicated thing… I just…"

A flash of something that looked like anger or disappointment flashed ever-so-briefly over his face before he smiled and said,
"How about if I call you in a day or two with the details and you can say yes to me then?" He smiled.

I laughed softly and said, "Okay, call me in a couple days."

He grinned, seeming appeased, and then leaned down to kiss me, and I turned my head slightly so that he could kiss my cheek. He frowned as he straightened back up, but didn't say anything.

"
Talk to you soon," I said softly.

He nodded once and then
walked around me and headed to his truck. I watched him from where I stood, his broad shoulders and muscular backside filling out his jeans nicely. He really was a catch. Why didn't I feel any spark? I sighed and went inside my house with Phoebe.

I went back to my room and lay
down on my bed and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. When I woke up, the room around me was dark. I looked over at the clock. Ten eighteen. I had slept most of the afternoon and evening away. Probably because I hadn't slept well in Archer's bed… so aware of him in the room right beyond. I groaned at the thought of Archer, wondering what he was doing right now. I hoped that I hadn't completely messed things up between us.

I sighed and sat up and Phoebe came trotting into the room. "Hey girl," I said softly. "You probably need to go outside, don't you?"

I walked her to the front door and slid my flip flops on, noting that I needed to throw the rotting roses sitting on the table by my entry, into the garbage. When I opened the door, I immediately saw something sitting on the mat on my porch. Confused, I bent down and picked it up. I sucked in a breath and then started grinning. It was a "bouquet" of Almond Joy candy bars held together in the middle with a little piece of string, tied neatly in a bow.

I turned it around in my hands, grinning stupidly
, happiness blooming in my chest. I guessed this was an apology? Or… a gesture of friendship? What exactly did it mean? I groaned. This man!

I laughed out loud, hugging the candy
bars to me and then standing there grinning like a fool some more. Awkward boy. Sweet, silent Archer Hale.

**********

I worked six to two the next day and was practically skipping when I entered the diner. It was my second non-flashback morning. When I had gone to bed the night before, I was slightly scared that that morning had been some kind of weird fluke. But no, it looked like it wasn't. I felt like a whole new person. A lighter person, a person filled with
hope
and freedom.

As the breakfast crowd was thinning out, Norm called from the kitchen, "Maggie, I gotta take a break in the back. Call me if someone comes in." He removed the plastic gloves on his hands and then he stepped away from the grill and headed to the small break room behind the kitchen.

Maggie shook her head.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"Damn stubborn ass is sick, but of course, he won't hire another cook. He's cheap
and
he thinks he's the only one who can do anything." She shook her head again.

I frowned, pausing in my counter wipe down and turning to Maggie. I tilted my head, considering and then said, "Maggie, if you ever need help in the kitchen, my family owned a deli and I used to cook there. I think I could muddle through here… I mean, you know, if it ever became necessary."

Maggie studied me. "Well, thanks, honey. I'll keep that in mind."

I nodded and turned back to my counter cleaning duties.

Just as I was finishing up, the bell above the door rung and I looked up to see a woman I'd estimate to be in her mid-forties walk into the diner. She was wearing a light beige, short-sleeved pant suit that looked like it was designer, and though I didn't know a whole lot about brand names, even I knew that the large C logo on her purse stood for Chanel.

She had glossy blonde hair swept up into a chignon, with a few pieces artfully framing her face. Her makeup was im
peccable, if a little too heavy, painted on a tight face that had clearly seen a plastic surgeon's scalpel.

"Well, hello Mrs. Hale," Maggie said, rushing over to her like the Queen of England had just walked through her door.

"Maggie," she said, barely glancing sideways at her as she moved toward me at the counter. A waft of expensive smelling perfume–heavy on the lilies and roses–tickled my nose. I sneezed, bringing my upper arm up to cover my mouth and nose and then bringing it down again. "Excuse me!" I laughed softly.

The woman looked at me like I might be contagious. Geez, a God bless
you wasn't a lot to ask, was it? Wow, I was getting really good vibes here.

"I'll wait while
you wash your hands."

"Uh, right, okay, I'll be right back to take your order."

"I'm not ordering."

I paused.
Okay….
but just nodded and hurried to the back where I washed and dried my hands and then hurried to the front. As I was walking toward the counter, it suddenly occurred to me to ask myself why I was taking orders from this person anyway.

"How can I help you?" I asked, keeping my distance from the counter, not wanting to go into a sneezing fit again. I was pretty sure I was allergic to her.

"I'm Victoria Hale, I'm sure you've heard of me."

I looked at her blankly. "N
o, I'm sorry, I haven't," I lied, taking some small measure of pleasure from the look of anger that briefly flashed over her face. What a bitch.

But
then she quickly recovered. "Well, then I'm glad I came in to introduce myself. I'm Travis Hale's mother. I understand you're seeing him socially?"

"Uh, I… " I paused. What the hell was going on here
? "I went on one date with him," I said, furrowing my brows and studying this brazen woman. I wouldn't be going out with Travis again, but this woman didn't need to know that.

"Yes, so I've heard," she said. "That's fine
, I guess. Travis chooses the women he wants to… see. What I'm not fine with is that you've apparently made a friend of Archer Hale."

My eyes widened and
my mouth dropped open. How in the hell did she know that? I crossed my arms over my chest. "As a matter of fact," I said, "he's more than a friend." I raised my chin, looking down at her. Okay, so that wasn't exactly true–at least as far as Archer was concerned–but I wanted to see the look on her face when I said it. Her disdain for Archer was obvious, for what reason I had no idea. And the best way I could think to defend him in that moment was to tell her that I was seeing him.

She looked at me for a couple beats and then laughed, making a bolt of anger spear through my body.
"Well, isn't that familiar? Another little girl leading the Hale boys around by their male parts?" Then her eyes narrowed. "That boy has a violent side. Has anyone told you?"

My mouth dropped open.
"A violent side?" I laughed. "You're wrong about that–"

She waved her hand, silencing me. "You ask him, little girl. I've heard you know sign language and are teaching it to him. Ask him about how he tried to assault me several years ago." She nodded, as if agreeing with herself.

I said nothing, staring at her, not correcting her in her assumption that I was teaching Archer to sign.

"Stay away from him,
" she continued. "Nothing good can come of it. And for a girl who isn't a stranger to violence, I'd think you'd heed my warning. There's no telling when he's going to crack and do something to hurt you. Mark my word. He's done it before. Have a good day."

And with that, she turned around and headed for the door, nodding very slightly to Maggie who was now sitting at the break table trying to look like she wasn't eavesdropping.

I was floored. That woman had looked into me–had looked into who I was and what was in my past?
Why?
And of all the bitchy, condescending… bitches! Who were really bitchy!

When the door had closed, Maggie rushed over to me. "What in the heck was that about?" she asked, eyes wide.

I was still standing there frowning. "I literally have no idea. Who does that woman think she is?"

Maggie sighed. "
Tori Hale has always been high and mighty since the day she strode into town–even more so after she married Connor Hale. She's uppity and a little hard to handle, but what do you say about a woman who owns the whole damn town, including all the businesses, and has more money than God?"

"That she needs to purchase herself a better personality?" I offered.

Maggie chuckled softly. "I won't disagree with you, but…" she shrugged. "She mostly keeps to her various social clubs on the other side of the lake. I have no real reason to interact with her. Of course, she's not making any new fans with what she's planning to do with the town."

I looked at Maggie. "Will tha
t affect you and Norm?"

She shook her head. "We don't know yet. No one's seen the final plans. The only thing anyone knows for sure is that condos are going up on the shore."

I looked back out the window where Victoria Hale had disappeared around the corner a couple minutes earlier. "Hmm."

"Now what's this about you
seeing Archer Hale?" Maggie asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I breathed out, looking over at her and resting my hip a
gainst the counter. "That may have been a slight exaggeration, but… I've been going out to his property and spending time with him. I like him."

"I always thought
he was simple minded."

I shook my head
vigorously. "Not at all. He's intelligent, and funny, and sweet. He's really amazing," I said, blushing slightly and looking down when Maggie looked curiously at me.

"You
really do like him," she said, looking shocked. "Well, who would have ever guessed? Hmm."

"I do," I said. "There's a lot to like. Anyway, what was Victoria Hale talking about–Archer being violent?"

Maggie shrugged. "No idea. I never saw anything like that. Like I said, I always thought he was simple. Of course, I wouldn't be too surprised either. It's in the genes, I guess. His father was a mean drunk. That poor wife of his tried to cover up the bruises, but we all knew…"

I leaned my hip against the counter.
"Did anyone do anything?" I asked, feeling a heaviness in my heart for Archer's mother.

Maggie nodded. "Connor Hale, his brother, was always out there. It came to blows with those two several times from what I know." She shook her head again.

I bit my lip, wondering again what had really happened between those two brothers so long ago.

"I better go check on Norm," Maggie said. "Gotta make sure he didn't croak back there in the break room. Wouldn't be good for business."

I laughed softly and got back to work, my mind full with questions about brothers, and secrets, and a girl that they both loved, and a bitchy widow. I wondered how the whole puzzle fit together, and where Archer fit in amongst it all.