Page 74 of Archer

We followed a sandy path around the building toward the water, where a tiered wooden deck and wide, weathered dock extended from the business toward the sound.

Knox stood on the deck, hands in his pockets, scanning the water with the same vigilance Archer brought to everything.

The group gathered around a picnic table on the dock, bundled against the temperatures, but smiling as if this was something they did often. I hoped it was.

And suddenly I felt nervous.

I knew all their faces now, save one, who I assumed was Sloane, Knox’s fiancé. In Nashville, I was often surrounded by strangers and acquaintances, but this time I was the odd person out.

Archer squeezed my hand, as if reading my mind.

I turned wide eyes to his and released him. He was my security detail, not my boyfriend. What would his team and their friends think of us walking in holding hands? “This is weird, right?”

His brow furrowed and his pace slowed. “Lunch on the dock, or hanging out with my friends?”

“Us,” I said, voice low. “Holding hands.”

Archer’s gaze narrowed. “Are you uncomfortable?’

“No.” I glanced at the small crowd, taking notice of our halted approach. “You made a big deal out of not crossing boundaries. I don’t want them to think⁠—”

Archer stepped closer, turning his back to his friends and blocking my view of them completely. “I like you, Harper. I don’t care who knows that or what they think about it. I care if you’re uncomfortable in any measure, for any reason.”

I leaned slightly to the right, peeking at the curious group.

“Do you want me to keep my distance today?” he asked. “Give you some space to relax? Keep my hands to myself? There’s no wrong answer.”

I straightened and shook my head. “I was thinking about you. Your rules, and what your team would think.”

Archer rolled his eyes, laced the fingers of one hand with mine, and turned us back toward the dock.

“Everything okay?” Knox called.

Archer raised his chin. “I thought I left my phone in the truck.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and he gently squeezed my fingers.

“Harper!” Maggie met us at the dock’s edge and pulled me into a hug before I could protest. She smelled like vanilla and sunshine. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Of course. We’re just getting things sorted. Now, come sit. Eat. Nash has been telling us about the investigation, which means we’ve heard absolutely nothing because he’s terrible at sharing information.”

The table was covered in enough containers to feed twice our number. Fried chicken, coleslaw, hushpuppies, mac and cheese, green beans cooked with bacon. My stomach growled.

Sheriff Sullivan lifted a hand in greeting.

“Sheriff,” I said.

“Nash,” he corrected, extending a hand.

“Nash.” I accepted his shake, thankful to see him under circumstances not involving another threat to my well-being.

Knox joined us from the deck a moment later. “Harper, this is my fiancé, Sloane. Sloane, Harper.”

She smiled at me, and I gave an uncharacteristically awkward greeting in return.

“Colton’s finishing up inside,” Knox said. “We’ve got about an hour out here before the first group of kayakers return and two hours before Sloane and I have a hike to guide. I thought we could all use a break in the meantime. Tensions have been too high for too long.”