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“Why are you sitting on my bar?” Tim taps Aubree’s leg to get her to move. But her doing so only opens him up to seeing Seraphina’s face.
He pauses for a moment. Studies her, then Fletch. Then the rest of us. But maybe especially me. “What’s wrong? Who died?”
“Smooth,” Archer responds on a soft chuckle. “Damn, Tim, you’re smooth.” He reaches for our burgers and offers mine with a gentle smile. “Eat up, then we’re leaving.”
“I’m gonna sleep over at your place tonight,” Aubree announces, despite Seraphina’s spasm of discomfort. “I’ll help you make arrangements and stuff.”
“That’s absolutely unnecessary.” Stuffy and stuck-up, she selects a steaming fry from her plate and holds it between two fingers. “I prefer solitude.”
“Same.” Stealing a fry of her own, Aubree makes thehss-hss-hsssound as she tosses the potato into her mouth and chews around the boiling oil. “But in this case, we can be solitarytogether. It’s possible you didn’t like her, and maybe you consider this next week nothing but obligation. But your mother only dies once in your life, Fifi. No matter how disconnected you were, you deserve a friend who has your back.”
“Wait. Your motherdied?” Tim’s eyes widen. “I was gone five minutes!”
MINKA
“Come on.” With slow movements and gentle touches, Archer leads me out of the bar and into the truck he normally keeps parked in a garage near our apartment.
In all the time I’ve known the man, I think I’ve sat in the truck only a handful of times. But tonight, he chooses to use it.
With a rumbling engine, and the radio playing low on the breeze, he whisks me away from noise. And death. Drama. Work. Cops. Alcohol. Even Chloe and the dishes in our sink. Seraphina has Aubree looking out for her, and Aubree is the sweetest caretaker of us all. Fletch has gone to his apartment to see his daughter and the hot nanny, and Tim has work. The bar. Routine.
“Where are we going?” I sit back in the truck, my body pressed to the door and my feet on the seat so Archer can massage my thigh. The windows are open, and the wind is enough to send chills along my spine.
But not because it’s cold. These are from the magnetic air that rests, crisp and magical, in my lungs.
We drive away from the hustle and bustle of downtown, and head toward the hills. This is where the rich folks live, where they commute down the mountains and go to their forty-five-story legal offices or ninety-story interior design studios for a luxurious nine-to-five with the rest of the city.
This is where the cars trend toward the more exclusive, expensive brands—and, since Copeland is a city on the water, this is where the boats get larger. The houses that don’t have boats in the driveway… dock theirs in the bay.
“Archer?” I tap his ribs with my toe and draw a lazy smirk across his face. “Are you taking me somewhere to murder me?”
He makes anmm-mmsound in the back of his throat. “I could’ve done that at the bar and avoided checking the truck out of the garage. Plus, traffic cameras will document our movements across the city.” He glances across and puckers his lips to send an air kiss my way. “If I was going to murder you, I can think of a hundred better ways that don’t have me and you time-stamped on every block we cross.”
I raise a brow in consideration, only to set my feet back on the seat and nod. “Noted. Do you know some of the rich fuddy-duddies out here? Are we stealing their wi-fi and stomping their gardens?”
“No. And your idea of a crime spree is questionable at best.” Slowing at a winding curve, Archer brings us around the turn then steps on the gas to get us moving again. “I’m taking you somewhere I discovered when I was eighteen and bored.” He shakes his head and grins. “Eighteen-year-olds explore new cities when they have nothing better to do.”
“Oh, you mean you’d already run out of women to fraternize with?”
He snickers. “I was a respectable young man more interested in seeing his new backyard. Tim was away that weekend, and Fletch was spending time with Jada. I’d bought my first truck not long before, an old piece of shit that barely handled these hills. But the weather was a lot like it is tonight, so you looking up at the stars and feeling all brand new and shit…” He snakes his hand along my ankle and kneads my calf muscle. “You reminded me. Now I wanna show you.”
“But what are you showing me?” I gaze out the windshield and try to see past the trees and through the darkness. “I don’t know what’s out here.”
“Which is why it’s called a fucking surprise. Jesus, Mayet.”
He pulls off the tarred road and onto a path comprised of dirt and potholes. Trees line each side, making the road narrow enough for only one car at a time. We bounce our way through the thick growth and all-encompassing darkness, while on the radio, Samuel Turner sings of love and acceptance. Of unconditional promises, and the forever kind of commitment.
Roses, I think the song is called.
The wind outside the truck grows noisier, but Archer remains relaxed, confident he knows where the hell he’s going.
A few minutes after we drive onto the dirt, we come to a stop, and the truck groans on its chassis. But for every second we sit, Archer’s smile grows larger. More animated.
“This is technically private land.” Unsnapping his belt, he reaches across and removes mine, too, but not before dropping a kiss on my lips. “It belongs to a guy I know, but if we’re caught out here, I intend to sacrifice you and take out my badge like I’m here to arrest you for trespassing.”
“Charming.” I nibble on my bottom lip, purely because it tastes of him, then I move my seatbelt aside and snag my phone before I open the door. “You’re a true gentleman, Malone. Can’t you hear my heart pitter-pattering?”
“No phone.” Before I can slide out, he presses his hand to my thigh and shakes his head when I look back. “It’ll get lost or ruined.”
