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Archer
The dusty vision in front of me was like a mirage, and I was a thirsty man who hadn’t had water in a year and a half.
My wife wore jeans that hugged her hips, draping down thighs that had once gripped me around my waist as I… Nope. Not the place. I’d been delving into the past far too much on my drive up here. I took in the rest of her. Her shirt had a rip in the side, and it was all I could do to keep my feet rooted in place. A step or two to the right and I could catch a glimpse of golden skin. Her hair was in a ponytail, a grimy ball cap stuffed on her head, and she didn’t have a hint of makeup on, unless I counted the dirt smeared across her forehead and down her cheeks.
Were those sweat stains on her shirt?
Even in the Texas heat, she hadn’t walked around with a sweat ring down to her bra. But she wasn’t exactly wearing expensive moisture-wicking fabric. The faded print on the old cotton shirt readCoal Haven Fourth of July 5K.
“Why—and I repeat—the hellwould he call you Delaney Barron?” The woman who spoke had a voice that sounded like her vocal chords had been roughed up by forty-grit sandpaper. Was this Delaney’s mother? She wasn’t dressed much differently. Less sweaty, like Delaney had done all the work. The woman squinted at Delaney, a fan of lines spreading from the corners of her eyes. “Why would he say you’re his wife?”
I didn’t appreciate the hostility in her tone. Ironic, since I was here to give Delaney a hard time. “Because we’re married.”
The silence that descended in the farmyard was unexpected. Blood drained from Delaney’s already pale cheeks. If she lost much more blood from her face, she was going to pass out.
Her mother’s mouth dropped open, and the guy who’d chortled when I’d first asked to speak to Delaney Barron stared at me like I’d just gotten out of a spaceship instead of an Audi RS.
“You’re what?” The woman took a silver thing out of her back pocket and puffed from it. Delaney hadn’t mentioned her mother vaped. I hadn’t realized how little I knew about her life in Coal Haven until now. The life she’d chosen over being with me.
Delaney’s eyelids slid shut, and she swallowed. “Why did you come here, Archer?”
“Archer,” the man said suddenly, like he’d deciphered written code. This must be her father since he wasn’t leaving the conversation. Didn’t her family ranch have hired help? “Archer…Barron?”
The small furry dog sat on her haunches and eyed me. I wished I’d dug my old cowboy boots out of my closet and brought them with me. My ankles tingled, aware that the dog wasn’t overly friendly and it was in a prime ankle-biting area.
I pushed down rising irritation. “Yes.”
The man looked at Delaney, his eyes widening. “And you’re… married?”
What the hell was the confusion about? Did I have to write it out in the gravel of the driveway? I studied the older couple. The way they exchanged glances. How their mouths flattened with the looks of shock and disappointment they shot Delaney.
“You didn’t tell them?” I wished I could take back the incredulous tone enveloping my words. I was used to being cool under pressure, but this situation wasn’t exactly normal.
Why was I so incensed? It wasn’t as if I’d sent out notices I’d eloped to my family almost three years ago. The difference was that Delaney still talked to hers, yet they’d been clueless.
Guilt flashed across her features, but her shoulders went tight. “It’s complicated.”
“How complicated is it to tell your parents you’re married?”We can’t let our private business affect our professional life. Let her go, Archer. If she wanted you, she would’ve given you the few minutes you asked for.My boss’s advice hadn’t seemed pertinent until now. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Yeah, you’d better start talking,” her mother said and folded her arms. Cheryl, the name came to me. Delaney had rarely talked about her family to me. She’d said they weren’t as close as she’d like. Was it because they were so similar? I wasn’t seeing a lot of the wife I knew in Texas in this woman, but side by side, they were a younger and an older version of the same hard woman.
“This is private,” I reiterated.
Cheryl spun on me. The fire in her eyes nearly made me take a step back. Some of my clients were formidable, but this woman could make a bull cower. “And you’re a Barron. On my land. Talking like you own my daughter as much as you wanted to own all this.” She directed her blazing glare to Delaney. “Start talking, Laney.”
“About what, Ma? That’s the gist of it. He’s a Barron and I married him. That pretty much tells you why I never said nothing.”
This time I did take a step back. I’d never heard Delaney speak like that. The heat in her tone. That grammatically incorrect language. The way she freely confessed to not wanting to admit she married a guy like me.
I’d worked my ass off to get to where I was. To be proud of my job, my home, my appearance, and, especially, my last name. And Delaney spoke like it was the opposite.
Her father didn’t lose his perplexed expression. “You went to Texas and found another Barron to date?”
“Another Barron?” I echoed. As if the rest of the conversation had been easy to follow. What the hell did that mean?
Delaney pressed her fingertips to her forehead and muttered, “I didn’t get enough sleep for this.” She blew out a breath and pointed to the space beyond her barn. Without looking at anyone, she announced, “That land over there is Bruce Barron’s. Your uncle. I dated his son Derek all through high school until he dumped me to date Kennedy, who is now my best friend—yes, Ma, don’t start. And Kennedy is married to Liam Barron.” She rotated her arm to point past the house. “Your uncle Cameron’s son, the kid not from his wife, in case you haven’t heard the story. And I moved to Texas and happened to run across you. And no, I didn’t tell you everything. You wouldn’t have dated me otherwise.” Her tone dropped to a sneer. “Too much of an embarrassment risk.”
