Page 26 of Archer

“I’m sorry you’re going through this.” His voice dropped lower. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

I met his eyes, and emotion passed between us. I wondered if he’d had a lot of cases like this one, or if someone he knew had been in a similar situation. I hated both possibilities.

Yet for the first time in months, I had hope again.

Chapter 9

Archer

Knox’s Jeep disappeared down Shore Drive, taillights fading into the twilight. We all had a job to do. Knox would collect and order materials as needed for the security system. Colton would begin his digital deep dive into Harper’s life.

I lingered in the driveway of the cottage where I’d be living in for the foreseeable future.

With a terrified, sweet-spirited redhead, who wrote heartbreaking songs and made me want to throat punch whoever was scaring her.

I was so screwed.

“This is just a job,” I muttered, climbing into my truck. “She’s just a client. And she’s only in town until it’s safe for her to leave.”

Harper watched from the front window as I eased onto the road. I’d empty my bank account for a clue about what she was thinking.

The drive to Knox’s place took fifteen minutes. I spent every one of those minutes listing all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Not the least of which was my unreasonable attraction to her. Not just physically, though she was beautiful.

There was something so genuine and raw about her situation. It must’ve taken so much courage to survive the last six months of torment, a break up, and the loss of her grandma. I couldn’t imagine it, and I hated every moment of that for her.

The fact that she was famous, or close to it, was a whole other point of pressure for her.

I’d never given celebrities much thought, and the only ones I followed played men’s hockey or football. They were at least my size and not exactly targets for harassment.

Harper could practically fit in my pocket. Intentionally frightening her should be a crime in itself.

I couldn’t allow it to continue.

And I couldn’t allow myself to become distracted. Not by her big, overburdened heart, that long red hair, or those damn freckles.

I pulled into Knox’s driveway, killed the engine and cursed.

None of my very logical reasons for wanting to protect her changed the fact that Harper Lawson was exactly my type. The universe seriously enjoyed pissing me off.

I climbed the steps replaying our conversations and almost laughed out loud at the memory of her apologizing for bullying me.

Knox and Sloane were in the kitchen when I stepped inside. The smell of something saucy and Italian filled the air. They stood close together at the stove, his hand on her hip as she stirred pasta.

“That was fast,” Knox said, looking up. “Can you stay for dinner?”

“No, I need to get back.” I headed for the guest room. “Just grabbing my stuff.”

“How’s it going?” Sloane asked.

I paused in the doorway. “The cottage? Security nightmare. But we’ll make it work.”

“I meant Harper.” Sloane’s tone was gentle. “How’s she holding up?”

I thought about the fear in Harper’s eyes when she’d shown me the music box. The way her hands had trembled. The tears she’d tried to hide.

“Scared. Trying to be brave about it.”

Knox leaned against the counter. “You sure you’re good with this arrangement? Living there?”