When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) (26 page)

Still sensing Sadie’s phobia at work he stripped off the comforter and sheet and shook them out, checking for any other intruders. “I think we’re all clear.”

He felt her hands release his shirt. “Sorry.” A bashful grin tipped those plush pillowy lips. “I
really
don’t do spiders. Oh crud, your arm!” The gentle caress of her fingers stroked his forearm while she inspected the gauze dressing higher up. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry for jumping on you. I wasn’t think—”

He stilled her lips with the pads of his fingers, let a small chuckle erupt from his throat. “I’m fine. Really.” He pulled his hand away, unable to help the way his fingers boldly skated over her lips before departing.

The heat of her hand lingering on his arm planted him in place. She was so close … too close to think straight. Desire roared to life in his chest, making him crave her in ways he shouldn’t. And the bed. Good Lord, the bed was right there, taunting him. But he couldn’t do that to her. Nothing with Sadie would be casual. He’d want to give her everything. Be her everything. That came with promises she deserved, but ones he knew he couldn’t keep. And even though he wanted her, wanted her so much every part of him screamed in defiance of his higher thinking, he wanted to protect her more. Even if that meant protecting her from himself.

She lifted her chin, looking up at him with a glint in her eyes. “My hero.”

“Hero, huh?” He puffed up his chest and scratched his chin. “And what shall I claim for my reward?”
Playing with fire, Ace.

Sadie inched up on her tiptoes, her sizzling fingertips grazed his jaw, drawing his face to meet hers.

His breath caught in his throat, the chug of his heart rumbled in his ears at the light sweep of her gently parted lips against his. The tiniest flick of her tongue sneaking a taste of his bottom lip.

The room tilted on its axis for the briefest moment, the universe and all those stars must be spiraling off course. He heard a soft groan. His? But before his mind could catch up and signal his arms to lock her in place, she backed away. The leisurely withdrawal of her hand left a trail of wanting.

Mystery hid within her smile and her heavy-lidded eyes refracted shimmering bursts of light when she whispered, “Good night.”

And with that she turned and crawled onto the bed, leaving him to watch her tantalizing retreat. She pulled her knees to her chest and draped the sheet over her bare legs.

Archer stood motionless, fully alerted to the hunger she’d just awakened. He was an animal on the edge, one pounce away from devouring her.

“Don’t you look at me like that, Agent Hayes.
You
are supposed to sleep on the couch.” A slow grin spread across her face and she tossed a pillow against his chest. “You can have the blanket, too.”

Good girl
. He breathed a conflicted sigh of relief and agony, grabbed the burnt orange flowered atrocity, and surrendered to the sofa. Immensely thankful she couldn’t read his thoughts providing R-rated commentary and a slow-motion recap of her soft kiss and hypnotizing crawl.

“What?” he asked her, feigning innocence.

Her playful, scolding expression made him wonder if maybe she
could
read his mind.

“You and your sexy eyes, that’s what. I’m not even gonna look at you.” She clicked off the bedside lamp, and Archer succumbed to a snicker of laughter.
Busted.

He wished he could still see her. But then again if she hadn’t turned off the light, he’d be too distracted to go to sleep. He’d probably blow that boundary she just put up to smithereens.  “Hey, I’m behaving myself.” Leaning back, the loose foam of the lumpy little couch swallowed him up, his legs jutting a good foot over the armrest.

“I know, but you’re making it hard for me to. You just go to sleep now.” She spoke low in a sultry little whisper.

He managed to hear the smile in her voice over the pounding of his rampant heart in his ears and couldn’t resist teasing her. “
I’m
making it hard?”

She giggled.

He propped up on his elbow and stared at her silhouette. The way the moonlight draped over her wouldn’t make it easy to wrestle his heart rate into submission.

“You’re looking again, aren’t you?” She laughed again, and his heart chugged faster. “Good night, Archer.”

He collapsed his tortured head back to the pillow and tried to think about baseball. “Good night, Sadie.”

Chapter 25

Sadie Carson

“I
wish you could come keep me company at the gate.”

“I know. I hate this part.” Sadie bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

Ryan blew out a breath, skimmed his gaze over the swelling crowd. “Me, too. I still have some time before my plane leaves, but the security check point is really backed up and—”

“You should go.” She fought them back, but stubborn tears surfaced anyway. “Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Setting his duffle bag on the floor, he gathered her into a hug. She held on tight—felt her heartbeat sync with his, felt his hard chest absorb her trembling.

“Please don’t cry, Sadie. I’ll be home before you know it.” He pulled back and smiled that same boyish grin she’d always loved. “And my first night back, what did we promise?”

“Imo’s Pizza and
The Princess Bride
, it’s a date.” Sadie dabbed her face, cheering up only slightly.

“And hey, the bonus is the Camaro’s yours till I get back. She’s a bit feisty—like my other best girl—so take it easy on the old gal.” He tried to lighten the mood, but his smile slipped just enough to betray him. He looked away from her pleading stare.

“Ryan, listen to me. You can still get out of this. Everything will go back to normal and—”

“No, Sadie. This is the right thing to do.”

“Then why do I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.” She shook her head and struggled against a fresh batch of tears. “Don’t go, Ry. Please.”

He tucked her into his arms one last time. She curled into the space shaped just for her and held on tight—praying the strength of her grip could keep him from leaving.

“I have to. I promise I’ll write.”

Releasing her, he turned to walk away. With each step that separated them, her heart throbbed harder with regret. It was now or never.

“Ryan, wait!” When he turned back, Sadie closed the distance between them, threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth against his—unleashing all the love in her heart.

He was stunned, motionless for a delayed moment. Then, dropping his bags, his arms surrounded her, molding her against him as he returned her kiss just as desperately.

Their friendship had never crossed the line into any sort of romance. If Sadie was really honest with herself, she’d known how Ryan felt about her all these years. She’d just been waiting to see if he’d ever take the chance. Would it be worth the risk?

Trapped in the long awaited moment, twenty years in the making, they made up for lost time—bending and breaking every rule of friendship until Ryan didn’t have a minute to spare. They were both disoriented and uncertain about the huge boundary they had just crossed, so they hugged once more and Sadie stood her ground, wrestling with her fearful heart as Ryan walked away.

He kept turning back, his piercing blue eyes reaching deep into her mind, engraving a new memory—transforming her childhood friend into a lifelong love.

When he finally slipped out of sight, her heart collapsed, the ventricular walls imploding until the lifeless lump shattered at her feet.

“Sadie … Sweetheart, shh … it’s just a dream.”

The rumbling tenor called out through the dream. She forced open haunted eyes, fighting against the drowning tears to grasp the present. It was still dark, but she instantly felt his presence. “Archer?”

He sat on the bed beside her, deep concern etched into his sleepy voice. “I’m right here.” The gentle rasp of his knuckles swept the tears from her temples. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Sadie nodded, swallowing the urge to surrender her secrets—to uncover wounds that might never turn to scars.

The faint glow of the streetlight shone on his face in the darkness.

She was feeling weak and wounded, and he was one hundred percent devastating. So she propped up and leaned into his powerful arms, needing more than anything to be held. He stroked her back with the faintest touch, and she snuggled against his chest, not recalling a time when she’d ever felt as safe. He amazed her by just letting her rest in the comfort of his arms without pulling away or pressing for answers, only dotting sweet, tender kisses into her hair. It felt … right.

The dream had been real, even though she’d been sleeping. Why did it feel as if she’d awakened to a reality that would never be anything more than a dream?

Amber streams of sunlight peeked through the curtains, the warm morning glow as decadent as cashmere. She hummed her pleasure, procrastinating her efforts to open her eyes and instead succumbed to the allure of the cozy warmth.

When she finally roused she found herself nose-to-nose with one sleeping, unlawfully handsome FBI agent. Before she could freak out about why they were snuggling together in bed and what that might mean, she remembered her dream and Archer’s caring embrace. A smile of perfect contentment turned her lips, and she took the moment to rest in what had to be the best dream she’d ever had.

Archer’s eyes slowly opened and found her gaze. A thin ribbon of sunlight ignited tiny flecks of gold in them—their tender appraisal making her long to stay right where she was, forever.

Summoning the nerve to speak as they lay together proved quite difficult. She felt a twinge of embarrassment about her tears last night, but this pure rapture far outweighed her shame.

At the moment she was a victim of the most desirable form of entrapment—tangled in Archer’s web and happy to be his prey. Their legs were entwined—one of hers wrapped boldly over his thigh, making her aware of their rather intimate, albeit fully clothed, contact. And oh my stars and stripes, he was awake.
Good morning, Soldier.
His arm was draped around her waist, his hand now teasing the skin on her low back with enough pressure to keep her close. “
Mmm
.” She practically purred, never wanting to leave this spot. “Good morning.”

“It certainly is.” His deep, sleep-rasped voice scraped deliciously over her senses. That big hand shifted lower, cupped around her hip, long fingers tightening into her flesh. Instinctively, she shifted closer burrowing in to press her nose into his neck, into that bone-melting scent that was uniquely Archer.

This was borrowed time. She knew that. But she’d take it. Stash the memories away for a rainy day when the cold, lonely reality returned. A dangerous game, but her reasoning had left the seventies time capsule the instant she’d awakened in his arms.

She sought to get closer and he helped her cause, nuzzling in, breath stirring her hair, his leg sliding slowly between hers. The heat between the sheets spiked, their accountability slipping away with each touch.

Breathing heavier, hands roaming recklessly, her lips ghosted over the stubbled edge of his jaw, just a whispered touch that shocked an achy groan from Archer’s throat. The sound somehow broke through the sensual haze, and he stilled. His grip tightened for a blink before he blew out a tortured breath and dragged his hands from beneath the covers. And then it was only a memory.

Why had he pulled away? Trying not to feel rejected, she pushed up to a sitting position, squinting against the light as she pulled her hair down from the now lopsided topknot she’d slept in.

Lord only knew what she looked like right now. Her eyes might be swollen and bloodshot from crying, and her unruly hair probably looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.

What’s a girl to do?
She sneaked a peek back over her shoulder where Archer was still reclined, watching her.

His lips released a lazy smile as he tucked an arm behind his head to the benefit of one bulging bicep muscle. “What time is it?”

With those eyes and that smile,
in bed next to her
, she couldn’t muster more than a single distressed syllable. He yawned, then rolled away and sat at the edge of the bed, checking his phone, casual as you please. As if that same dexterous hand hadn’t just been— “Eight thirty. That means we got about four hours of sleep, not too bad.”

Well, shoot! She wanted to be miffed or even embarrassed, but he looked so stinking cute she couldn’t help but grin at the sight of his adorable bed head—matted strands curled and smushed in wildly opposing directions. And yet combined with the thickening scruff of an impressive day-old beard he was still one hundred percent rugged and effortlessly gorgeous. How was that fair?

“
And
you got out of sleeping on that scuzzy little couch.”

“Best morning ever.” The quick raise of his eyebrows, accompanied by a playful smile, might as well have melted the skin off her blistering cheeks.

She turned away. Must get a grip. “Do I have time for a quick shower before we head back up to the hospital?” A cold one.

“Yeah, I’ll hop in, too.”

Spewing a burst of laughter wasn’t pretty or elegant, but it just happened. She would always be more tomboy than debutante. She crossed her arms, finally finding her sass.

Color crept up Archer’s neck, and his eyes went wide. “I meant,
after
you’re done. You really need to change out of those pajamas as soon as possible, I can’t think straight.”

Sadie shook her head, wondering why on earth she would be tempting to a man like Archer, and then closed herself behind the bathroom door. Where it was safe. But unfortunately not from the steamed up images of slick skin and rich soapy lather. Being a good girl was getting tougher every day.

“And don’t even think about coming out here in a towel,” he called out. “Spider or no spider, I will not be responsible for my actions if you do.”

Peeking out from behind the door, she wiggled her eyebrows and teased him right back. “Scandalous. And something tells me of the two your bite would be
much
more dangerous.” He lunged toward the door, and she clicked it shut with an absurd squeal, hearing his bark of laughter from the other side. Their playful banter was the most fun she’d had in as long as she could remember. But it wasn’t all banter. It
was
kind of scandalous. For her, at least. Also kind of romantic. The impromptu road trip. His valiant defeat of that tarantula-sized spider. The early morning hours locked in his arms. Her wanton response to those gentle touches. Oh, her mother would be mortified.

However, the not-so-scandalous scandal of their slumber party had confirmed her fears. Archer wasn’t a bad guy. He hadn’t tried to seduce her in her weak moment—hadn’t even kissed her.

She’d been clinging to the hope that she could just diagnose him a player and let that be her excuse to be done with him. Only, he wasn’t. He was warm and caring and pretty sensitive, despite the rough exterior. But while those things were nice—more than nice—they didn’t change the past, or the fact that he was an FBI agent. Which meant he was all wrong for her. She put on a good show, but she was still too fragile for a man like Archer Hayes.

After a quick and painful power wash under the pelting pressure of the cramped shower, she slipped into her trusty cut-offs and a
Flashdance
-inspired, pale-blue, off-the-shoulder top. Wringing out another pint of water from her hair one final time, she exited the balmy stall. “Better?”

Those honey browns sparked with mischief, and she felt the heat of their admiration clear down to her toes. “Not even a little.”

In comfy clothes and without a speck of makeup, this tomboy—the girl her mother was desperate to mask with more overt glamour—had never felt more beautiful, or more perfectly at home in her skin.

While he took his turn in the shower, Sadie added a quick stroke of mascara, tied her hair over one shoulder into a long, loose braid, and slipped into her Chucks.

Archer’s phone sounded from the night stand. She glanced at the caller ID just before the phone stopped ringing.

The water had shut off, so Sadie went and tapped on the door. “Archer, you just missed a call from your mom.”

In a second Archer was out the door wearing only his blue jeans—like that was playing fair. She fought the urge to fan herself. The man was cut and chiseled like the master sculptor Himself had crafted Archer Hayes with the best of everything.

“Ma, everything okay?”

The pallor that washed over his face meant it wasn’t good news.

“We’ll be right there.” Archer wilted to the bed, his eyes fastened on the retro sunset painting on the wall. Everything stopped. The world a motionless void of space surrounding this beautifully pained man.

Knowing that look far too well, she fought back tears. She’d only just met Roy Hayes, so she shouldn’t be the one crying. But Archer continued to stare at the wall, or through the wall, unshed tears swimming in his eyes until his voice finally broke. “He’s gone.”