With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and called Pops.
“I’m going to be a bit longer yet.”
“You’re not doing any hanky-panky with the pretty football player, are ya?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. We had to go pick up his sister. She had an argument with their father.”
He made a noise of understanding. “She okay?”
“She will be, I think. It wasn’t pretty, though.”
Across the driveway, Rebecca flung her arms around Archer’s middle. His face went slack with shock, and I swallowed a laugh. When his hand tentatively landed on her back, I smiled. “I need to drive them back to his place, but I may not leave right away. In case Analise wants a female to talk to.”
“You’re a good kid, bug.”
“I’m almost thirty, Pops.”
“Still a kid to me.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Going to his house, huh?” he asked slyly.
Archer closed Rebecca’s car door and waited for her to pull away, his frame expanding on a deep breath before heading back toward where I was waiting. The slightly haunted, really pissed-off look in his eyes lifted the hairs on my arms.
“Yeah,” I said absently. “Just for a little bit.”
“Okay, bug.”
His tone said he didn’t believe me.
Which was problematic because I didn’t believe me either.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Remi
Betty, the used Toyota that I’d bought from one of Pops’s old neighbors, was one thing more than anything else: She was reliable. Deeply unsexy, of course, but she was mine. All 100,016 miles of her. I knew all her dings and scratches. I knew she struggled a bit to keep us cool on really hot, humid days. But I owned that car free and clear, and I loved her more for it.
Since the day I’d bought her, I was the only one who’d ever sat behind the wheel. Seeing a man drive Betty was odd under normal circumstances, but these were not normal. And it wasn’t just a man driving my car—it was Archer Evans.
I didn’t need to use his full name, of course. These past couple weeks, I’d learned exactly how human he was. But some situations required formality, you know?
Thissituation required all the emphasis I could obtain, because he looked massive in the seat that was mine, his legs spread to the sides and his wrist draped over the top of the wheel as he took us the rest of the way to his own home.
Analise stayed quiet, and when I glanced into the back seat, her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open as if she was sleeping.
My heart and my head were on conflicting sides of the wholeShould I stay quietorShould I talk to him about what I just witnesseddebate. My head was firmly camped on the side ofShut up and stay out of itbecause it was none of my business and would only risk deeper entanglement.
My heart, though, that was a different story. My heart felt all soft and squishy as I watched him drive with that stoic look on his face. Resignation looked really good on Archer, though I doubted he wanted to hear it, given what he’d clearly resigned himself to. My heart wanted to make him feel better. Wanted to help in any way I could.
“You were telling the truth, then,” I started softly.
Looked like my heart was going to reign victorious, at least in this.
He glanced briefly in my direction. “About what?”
“You weren’t the one who ordered all the donations for the shelter.”