When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) (15 page)

They slid into a booth, the saturation of their clothes smearing across the brown vinyl seat.

“Well I win, but maybe this isn’t the best idea. We’re both soaked, and strange as it seems, I’m freezing.” Sadie’s teeth chattered, the force of which shook droplets of water from the dripping strands of hair around her face.

“I know, but I’m starving. And I’d offer you my jacket, but I doubt it would help. I could wring it out it’s so wet.” He looked up from his menu, water from his hair slipping down his temples. “So what do we do?”

She breathed a small sigh. “What are our options?”

“Well, we can be miserable here, eat as quickly as possible, and call it a night. Or … my place is literally five minutes away. We can get a pizza delivered and sit in some baggy sweats while I throw all our stuff in the dryer.” As soon as he said it, he questioned his sanity. Was this wise? He had boundaries for a reason … right?

Right! What are you thinking?

It was a colossally bad idea to bring Sadie back to his place. An even worse idea to have her out of her hot little dress and in his clothes on his couch, though the image in his mind was much too appealing. Homey. Domestic. Not him.

She glanced around the deserted restaurant, likely weighing the option of being alone with him—without the lone bartender.

He should revoke his offer. Right now.

“Hmm … Cold and wet or warm and dry?”

Her words painted another picture he promptly banished from his mind. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable, I under—”

“Warm and dry it is.” She nodded with finality and stood. “I’ll follow you.”

She really shouldn’t, because they were not headed in the right direction.

Why didn’t that seem to matter?

Chapter 15

Sadie Carson

W
hat did I get myself into?

Archer was right. His apartment had only been five minutes from the pizza place, and that wasn’t nearly enough time for the self-medicating pep talk she needed.

She’d agreed to come over, caught up in the way those eyes of his cut through her shell, unfurling a tiny tendril of hope in her deepest brokenness. How it made her feel to imagine something, anything that might persuade her to break free of her prison.

In a way, tonight was a test. A clinical trial. She and Archer would fail, and then she could put this ridiculous infatuation behind her. Yes, this would be her cure.

Her fingers stuttered against the keys as she cut the ignition, warning that the confidence she had just riled might be as flimsy as her wilting, discount dress. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, letting the calming sound console her nerves as she stepped out of the Camaro. 

She was fine until the elevator doors closed—the close quarters wreaking havoc on her senses. The rain had stirred up the fresh scent of his skin, a trace of moisture still touching the crest above his lip.

She averted her eyes, counteracted his come-and-get-me aura with completely uninteresting small talk about how much she loved these old buildings in downtown Clayton. 

He opened the door and gestured her inside. It was about what she expected of a bachelor pad, minimal and masculine. Tall ceilings with open ductwork, exposed brick walls, reclaimed hardwood floors, and a sparse modern kitchen gave the place an efficient, slightly industrial vibe.

“Nice place.”

Archer inspected his surroundings, looking ill at ease having his home on display. He scratched the back of his neck, wincing as if he was regretting this as much as she was. “I know it’s kind of cold, but I’m really never here.”

She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the ambiance or the temperature but decided to let it pass.

The sole of her retro black pumps splashed in the small puddle collecting around her feet from her dripping dress. “Oh, let me grab you some sweats.” Returning a moment later, he extended a tidy stack of clothes consisting of a navy FBI T-shirt, gray sweatpants, and a towel. “Sorry, they’re the smallest ones I have.”

“They’ll be fine.” She grabbed them and hurried off to peel away the dress that had become a soggy doily.

When she finished adding her clothes to the dryer, she found Archer in the kitchen flipping through takeout menus in a similar FBI T-shirt, which she couldn’t help notice fit snug, showing the impressive size of his chest and thick muscular arms tapering down to low slung sweatpants and bare feet.

The mirror in the bathroom had confirmed that she looked frumpy in the oversized get up. She held out her arms in mock presentment. “Well?”

His eyes sparked then smoldered. “You’ve never looked better.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob.

Oh my.
She fought the urge to press her cool palms to her superheated cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.” Instead she propped her hands on the rolled waistband barely clinging to her hips just in time to save the sweats from slipping south of the border.

“Trust me, most women couldn’t pull that off the way you do.”

And then her mind went there, swatting away disturbing images of other girls before her wearing his sweats, or
not
wearing them. When his face twisted she knew she needed to work on her poker face.

“—Not that I’m … uhh … nevermind.” Now he seemed nervous. The warm touch of his gaze made a hasty retreat as he cleared his throat. “What do you like on your pizza?”

Sadie shrugged. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well, maybe hold the anchovies, but other than that load it up.”

“Huh. That’s how I like it too. Everything.”

“Really? I’d have pegged you a straight pepperoni kinda guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, I’m boring?” He crossed his arms—highlighting all those muscles—and feigned offense. The little scold did dangerous things to his eyes. And his lips. Shew! The whole package was much too inviting for their lack of a chaperone.

“I guess it means people can surprise you.” Whoa, that was way too deep for pizza talk. Sadie tried to undo it, tried to slide in a chuckle to lighten the mood, but she got stuck in his hot caramel gaze and couldn’t force another sound past the sand dune in her throat.

So she turned away. He called in the order while she moseyed over to the only couch and sat on one end. The brick walls in the large open space were devoid of personal artifacts, stating something she knew to be true: Archer Hayes was not an easy man to get to know.

The quiet moment exposed the blaring siren of her rising doubt.
What are you doing here? This man is an FBI agent. As in—life threatening job, hidden agendas—RED FLAG: stay away, stupid!
She should leave before things got any more complicated.

But by then Archer was crossing to a dark, wooden chest. He grabbed a blanket from inside and draped it thoughtfully over Sadie’s legs before settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“Thanks.” She shivered. “So, what’s going on in Charlie’s case?”
If you’re not leaving, you have to stay focused.

Archer filled her in on the highlights of Al and Roger’s testimonies. Learning about the emotional baggage from the war—the burdens Charlie had shouldered with such resilience—made her admire him even more. “I bet Charlie did clear his name, he just wouldn’t drag anyone else’s through the mud to do it. He was very forgiving that way.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but we are having trouble getting release of those records from the army. We still don’t know if someone is trying to cover it up. And if all that stuff already came out, then that wasn’t the killer’s motive after all. So what was?” He mused.

“I must be incredibly naïve, but I just can’t think of any reason someone would wanna kill Charlie. He was the sweetest old man, and even after all those years of being blamed for his own brother’s death, he wasn’t bitter. What an amazing gift to be able to get on with your life and really live. After what he’d been through, most people couldn’t do it.” Sadie didn’t know how she’d gotten on that subject, but was desperate to backpedal before he read anything from her face.

Thankfully, the pizza arrived in the nick of time to save her. While they ate, they talked more about the case.

“What I also can’t figure out is why Charlie was rearranging his house? We had just organized all that stuff and stowed it away. Why would he drag it all back out?”

“There’s something I forgot to tell you …”

Okay, that sounded ominous. And his lengthening hesitance was unraveling her sanity. “Out with it, you’re gonna give me a stroke.”

Archer winced. “Charlie was dying. He had stage four liver cancer. And based on what I saw, he might have only lived a few more months, at best.”

She felt faint. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Why didn’t he tell anyone? He was old and he was dying—why, why would someone kill him?”

Archer covered her hand with his for just a moment in a show of empathy. Sadie’s eyes fixated on his strong fingers, gentle yet coarse against her skin. His hands were an apt illustration of the contradiction of the man himself. He was all kinds of rough and dangerous, but everything about him made her feel safe. Recklessly so. Even the odd electrical frisson radiating from the innocent contact that should have sent her screaming into the night instead made her want to hold on tight.

As quickly as it came it was gone. The loss of his touch more unsettling than the sensational reaction it elicited.

“I wish I knew,” he said, running his hand through the chocolaty strands of his perfectly tousled hair.

“So, um, did you figure out who wrote the letter? I was thinking it might’ve been Reamus’s son.”

He straightened. “You know, I didn’t pursue him specifically because I started that search before I learned Reamus’s name. I bet you’re right.” He grinned at her. “You know, you’d make a pretty good investigator—if you’re ever in the market for a career change.”

The thought was laughable, so she did. “Oh yes. Sadie Carson, professional gumshoe! I’ve definitely missed my calling.”

Archer’s full-out laugh, a deep musical sound, blended with hers in a perfectly dissonant sort of harmony. The mood sobered then. An accepting silence that called for shared confidences.

“I don’t know. I really like what I do. It seemed temporary at first, but it’s taken on a life of its own, becoming this impossible quest to make a difference. Most days I fall short. They all deserve so much more than I can give. But I like being there for people. Loneliness is as much of an affliction as disease.” She scraped her fingertips over her slick palms as Archer appraised her, feeling vulnerable from the naked confession.

His unblinking eyes bore into hers, measuring and calculating in that FBI way of his. “It suits you. But I think you’re selling yourself short. You definitely seem to have the healing touch. You could’ve been a doctor.”

Sadie’s throat constricted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Man, you read me like a book, don’t you?”

He shrugged, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not without skills.” Silence settled around them. His eyes poked and prodded until she caved mere moments later.

“Ok, fine. I was a med student at Washington University for three years.” Losing her nerve, her eyes fell to her lap. “I dropped out.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Med school has gotta be tough.”

“Yeah … med school was tough,” Sadie repeated, lost in thought. She cleared her throat. “What about you? Your childhood?”

“Not much to tell.”

“Nope, you’re not getting off that easy. Spill it, Hayes.”

He looked so physically uncomfortable she had to bite her lip to rebuke an adoring grin.

“Quick. Like a Band-Aid.”

“Fine,” he growled. “We, uh … we moved around a lot. I never had time to put roots down anywhere.”

“What about your parents?”

His heavy sigh sounded pained. “All right, here’s the case-file version. My mom, she’s not so bad. Typical southern belle, former Miss Texas—a big score for my dad who was a college dropout after a career-ending football injury. My whole life, all I ever saw was this restless, bitter man, desperate to relive his glory days. He tried to fill the void of his failed dream with marriage, a family, odd jobs, alcohol, other women … He was never satisfied. Just kept trying to find the next best thing. And never shy about letting us know we weren’t it.”

Shaking his head, he looked away, staring off at some distant distraction. “He wasn’t around. He’d just dump us in a new town, and then we wouldn’t see him for a while. Except for when I’d get a call from the ER to come pick him up after a bar fight or the police station after they’d detained him for drunk and disorderly. All the while my mom was home with my baby sister, training her up to be the next beauty queen, sending me to do all the dirty work. She was too weak to leave him.”

“That must have been hard.” The bitterness in his voice was heartbreaking. He tried to shrug it off, but the hurt in his eyes spoke volumes about what he didn’t say.

The longer they sat there talking the more comfortable she felt just being with him. This was not how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to crash and burn. He’d ripped off the Band-Aid she’d hoped would send her running. Instead, more than anything, she wanted to stay and kiss it all better.

So not good.

She tempered her foolish reaction with a sobering dose of reality. Even if she was interested, a little, Archer had a highly dangerous job. It was her one unbending rule—no military, law enforcement, or firefighters—and that meant he was off limits.

What was she thinking? Of course he was off limits. She knew almost nothing about him.

Plus, she was fairly certain there was some rule about fraternization during an investigation. And Archer struck her as a man who lived strictly between the lines. There were simply too many obstacles on both sides. It would never work out. Relationships were hard enough without starting against the grain.

She’d convinced herself until their eyes met, and then a seed of doubt crept in. He was uncommonly gorgeous for a man. And kind. With a deep sense of honor he wielded like a shield. And the way he looked at her … She blinked hard, forcing a cease-fire on her thoughts. Before her bleeding heart could start gushing romantic fancy she quick-stitched the open wound. Case closed. Now get out with your heart intact.

“Do you want me to make some coffee? It’s about the only thing I have in my kitchen.” He grinned a little boyish grin that made her think of Ryan. Her heart pinched.

“Nah, that’s okay. I should probably get going. I did want to ask you if anything turned up on the mystery intruder.”

“The one you tackled to the ground?” A lazy smile tilted his lips. If he smiled like that one more time she’d have to run for the exit.

She scoffed, “Self-defense!”

“I know you can take care of yourself, I’ve witnessed it firsthand.” He touched his hard stomach in exaggerated pain, reminding her of her well-placed kick, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“No. So far, no fibers or trace evidence left behind, and nothing new missing. We do have a few more leads, and we’re still waiting for some follow-ups on Charlie’s past and new info from the coroner. I’m going to talk to the family tomorrow. Something will turn up.”