Page 22 of A Texas Hero

Window lowered, she stared at the book in his hands. “You’ll have to tell me how it is. Apparently, I like mysteries.”

Archer wasn’t sure what she meant by that because she gave him a long look, as if he was the mystery.

Chapter Nine

Color Zoey not surprised that Archer was in the kitchen bright and early on Tuesday morning when she staggered out of her room wanting coffee. All of this reminded her of the old days, when her family never went anywhere without a chauffeur and a bodyguard. Even now, her dad still employed two regular bodyguards, but it was nothing like it was back when he was getting death threats.

In a throwback to her childhood, she now had her own chauffeur—her handsome, brooding, very Italian chauffeur. If life were a romance novel, she’d quickly fall into bed with said man, immediately fall in love and, after a few obstacles, live happily ever after with him. Or, if her life was a cozy mystery novel, she’d find him dead in the kitchen, a knife sticking out of his back. Then she’d have to solve the mystery with the help of her gardener.

Neither of those scenarios was going to happen, but sooner or later she would solve the mystery of Archer Rossi. Last night, he’d watched TV with her and had not once complained about her choices. They hadn’t discussed the hospital situation again, and she thought it best that way. For now.

This morning, she found him dressed in his usual uniform of black slacks that fit him like a glove, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a tie.

“I made a coffee run,” he said, and handed her a cup from Ava Del Toro’s café, The Bean. “Here’s your pumpkin spice latte.”

Zoey rubbed her eyes and accepted it. “Thank you.”

He pointed to her Styrofoam cup. “I don’t know how you and my sisters can drink that stuff.”

“Because it’s divine and it only happens once a year, and we need to celebrate the little things.”

Honestly, Zoey would bathe in pumpkin spice if she could. It was a crime that it was only available once a year, but then again, it made her appreciate it that much more.

“I don’t suppose you thought of breakfast while you were out,” Zoey said. “The most important meal of the day.”

“I never eat breakfast.” He shook his head.

“You never…you never eat breakfast?” She stuck her hand on her hip. “Did you mother let you get away with that?”

“I got away with a lot, being the only son.”

Zoey snorted. “No doubt.”

She could not imagine what her father would have done with a son. Zoey’s mother could not have any more children, but at one time, she had confided in Zoey that she’d worried about a son having to live up to his father’s legacy. No thoughts as to how a daughter would do the same. Kind of old-school, her parents.

“Well, we are not leaving until we both have some protein in our system.” She reached for her blender and some protein powder. “The only way I used to get away without breakfast was with a power shake.”

Zoey would take care of this man or die trying. She scooped in the powder, almond milk, frozen strawberries and a handful of kale. After blending the ingredients together, she poured the beverage into two travel mugs and handed one to him.

“We can drink breakfast on the way.”

* * *

This morning, Archer had kale in his breakfast. He was working incognito at a boutique. If only his friends could see him now! He and Zoey had decided the other day that he would pretend to work at the shop. He’d rather have pretended to be her boyfriend, because pretending was as far as he’d ever get with someone like her. But no, here he was, faux consultant to fashion choices. He couldn’t have been further out of his wheelhouse.

The woman in front of him held two dresses against her. “Be honest. Which do you think would look best on me? The blue or the black?”

“I don’t feel qualified to say,” Archer said. “Why not ask Zoey? I am here giving advice to men.”

“And there are no men here now,” she said, and pointed to Zoey. “She said you would help. I actually need a man’s opinion.”

He scowled and caught Zoey’s eye. She simply grinned.

“C’mon, what do you think?” She held up and jiggled one dress in one hand and then the other.

“Well.” He tugged on his tie, not having a clue. “I’d say the black one.”

She took a better look at the dress, draped it against her body. “Here’s a better look at the dress on me. Still think black is good for my complexion?”