Page 12 of A Texas Hero

“Oh.” That wasn’t the response she’d expected.

“You can’t live without oxygen, you can’t live without love.” He shrugged.

“It’s good you agree! And so, what I’ve done as a champion of love, is give it another special day. September was just crying out to be known for something other than pumpkin spice lattes. Which are great, of course, but c’mon! So, when I was a little girl, I created Sweetheart Day on September 14. And now I celebrate it every year.”

“Like Valentine’s Day on February 14.” Archer nodded. “I like it. It is not a national holiday, so no one is forced to buy flowers or a card.”

“Right. It’s something I celebrate with family and friends.”

“And that special someone?”

“Well, when there is someone. This year, there isn’t.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. There is someone but the feeling isn’t mutual.”

She nodded and handed Archer the string of orange lights that would go from one end of the window to the other. “The thing is, like so many of the men I date, he was more interested in getting to know my father than me.”

“The NFL legend?”

“He’s kind of a big deal.” Zoey sighed. “Especially if you’re from Texas.”

At this, he nearly smiled. “No offense but I much prefer what Europeans call football.”

“No offense taken, but it’s soccer,” Zoey said, reaching to pin a section of the string lights.

“If you say so.”

She snorted, but it was pretty amazing to find someone who wasn’t a huge fan of Patch Lambert.

“Where are you from?”

“Connecticut is where my mother, father and sisters still live,” he said. “But I’ve been living in Texas since I first signed up for the service. Texas is home.”

“I’ve always wanted to live somewhere where the leaves change colors in autumn. We don’t have that in this part of South Texas.”

Once, when she was younger, her family had taken a trip to New England in the fall. Zoey had always wanted to go back, but shortly after that vacation, her mother got ill for the first time. Suddenly, there had been far more pressing matters.

By the time they were finished decorating, the window display was magic. A splash of color, with orange twinkle lights, pumpkins and hearts, decorated in trademark Glamtique style. On each step of a small rustic ladder sat a pumpkin.

“Something’s missing.” Zoey tapped her chin while judging the display from outside.

Archer shook his head. “No…nothing.”

Zoey held up her finger. “I know! Ophelia.”

“Nothing is missing!” But Archer followed her into the storage room in the back.

She heard him curse and she whipped around, prepared to tell him she didn’t need his opinion on this matter and he could leave if he wished, but then she noticed his face had become a mask of pain. He bent to touch his left boot.

“Are you okay?”

With all her experience with injuries, Zoey could be overzealous at times. Once, Twyla had fallen off a ladder in her bookstore and was knocked out cold. Zoey had been terrified she’d lost her best friend. And then, of course, there was her father: she and her mother would dote on him after an injury, taking him to doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. Zoey was well acquainted with the inside of a hospital well before her mother got sick. Suffice it to say, she could tell when someone was hurting. And she had no doubt that Archer was hurt.

“I am fine,” he said through gritted teeth, straightening to his full height.

Seems Archer was one of those people who preferred to let everyone think he was indestructible. Very much like her father. The only times she ever heard her parents bicker was when her father had taken another hard hit on the field.

“Think of your family. Your daughter. One more hit to the head and you might not make it,” her mother would plead. “We need you more than the fans do.”