Page 70 of Archer

Harper

“Now we wait.”

Archer’s words hung in the air between us as sunset faded to twilight. He stood near the deck railing, eyes scanning the beach and dunes with the methodical focus of someone trained to spot threats.

I sat on the bench, guitar in my lap, fingers finding chords without conscious thought. He’d given me a coat that covered my body almost entirely the moment the post was live. The fabric smelled like him, so I wouldn’t complain, though I had to roll the sleeves to play my guitar.

The quiet melodies drifted on the ocean breeze, nothing I’d ever performed. Just muscle memory and the comfort of strings beneath my fingertips.

“We should go inside,” Archer said. His voice was low and sultry against the distant roar of an incoming tide. He’d made the suggestion twice already, getting more uncomfortable as the evening grew dark.

“Not yet.”

His hands went to his hips.

I didn’t have to look up to know there was exasperation on his handsome face.

“He’s watching. I can feel it.” I looked out at the darkening water as I swayed gently with my guitar. Shadows gathered on the waves. Clouds crowded the sky.

Archer’s phone buzzed and all pretenses of a casual evening were gone. He checked the notification and one hand moved toward his hip where I imagined he once kept a sidearm. “Inside. Now.”

My heart kicked against my ribs. “What⁠—”

“Motion sensor,” he hissed. “Move.”

I carried my guitar through the deck door at a sprint.

Archer followed, locking up behind us and closing the blinds in one smooth move. “Stay away from the windows.”

I set my guitar against the wall, pulse hammering. “Was it him?”

Archer’s phone buzzed again. His expression shifted, still alert, but his muscles were no longer coiled to strike.

“Shit. Just a couple on the beach walking their dog.”

I sagged against the kitchen counter, adrenaline draining away and leaving me shaky. “How long do we do this?” I ran a hand through my hair. “We keep jumping at every shadow forever?” I’d lived like this for too long already, and now the madness had suddenly intensified.

I moved to the stove, desperate for something to do with my hands, but finished playing my guitar for the day. “I’m going to make tea. Want some?”

“Sure.”

I hung his coat on the rack and busied myself with the kettle, grateful for the familiar routine. Gram’s tin of assorted teas sat on the counter and seeing them sent a pang of grief through me so fast and sharp it hurt.

Gram didn’t belong in the middle of this nightmare with me. But being here, in her cottage felt like an extension of her arms around me, and I held onto that.

Archer paced the rear windows as I worked, his face shadowed in the fading light, expression unreadable. Maybe texting Knox and Colton to check in.

“Do you think he didn’t see my post?” I asked, pouring hot water over the tea bags. I’d waited outside as long as I could for him to show up.

Why was he always there when I didn’t want him and not the one time I did?

Archer took the mug I offered, our fingers brushing. That small point of contact steadied me a bit. “It’s more likely he’s just being careful. Planning his approach.”

“What if he already left town? Went back to work in Nashville, and we’re sitting here waiting for nothing?” The thought was a longshot, but my mind wouldn’t stop forming hypotheses.

“He’s not gone.” Archer set down his mug and took both my hands. His palms were strong, solid and real. “If he goes back to work, his boss will notify authorities, and they’ll pick him up, which would be great. But Webb’s obsessed with you. So, I think he’s still here. Probably building up to whatever his endgame is, and he won’t walk away until he finishes that.”

I swallowed the sour taste spreading over my tongue. “Why do you think that?”