by Darcy Burke
“Absolutely.” Kyle’s blood surged with excitement, and his mood did a complete one-eighty. “What time?”
“Five, if you can swing it.”
“No problem.” Kyle could hardly wait. “One question, do I need to adhere to the menu?”
Tommy laughed. “Within reason, please. Feel free to do whatever specials you want, but you can’t mess with the signature stuff.”
“Dude, I would never screw with the nachos.” That was like rewriting the Declaration of Independence or remaking Raiders of the Lost Ark. There were just some things you did not do.
More laughter. “See you at five.”
“See you then.” Kyle ended the call, then pulled up his calendar to make sure he was clear. Shit. He’d forgotten about his seven o’clock appointment with the computer forensics guy. How had he forgotten that? Finding who’d sold Alex those drugs had been his primary focus.
Until Maggie had taken over. Rather, his feelings for Maggie.
Feelings for Maggie?
Yesterday’s close call with Dylan had rattled him a bit. He was sure Dylan had no idea who she was, but what if he had? What if that had been Tori or Sara or, God forbid, Derek?
They likely wouldn’t have put it together, particularly when he’d introduced her as Magnolia. She hadn’t met any of them, so they wouldn’t recognize her on sight, and did any of them remember the name of Alex’s therapist? He hadn’t even known it until he’d looked her up in Alex’s contacts on his laptop. But then he hadn’t been living here. Sara had. And Derek. It was possible they knew Maggie’s name, so he was doubly glad she’d introduced herself as Magnolia.
The encounter with Dylan had put a damper on the day, effectively ending it. After they’d driven back to Hayden’s house, she’d gone home almost immediately, pleading the need to water her garden. While that had been a legitimate excuse, he knew the primary reason for her departure was because of their encounter with Dylan. Or more importantly, because of the conversation that had followed.
Now that they’d discussed the need to keep their fling secret from his family, it was like they’d categorized whatever they were doing. A casual, fun hookup had become something more. Something they needed to hide. She seemed to be okay with that, but he still felt unsettled. Was it because she’d suggested they dial things back?
He was overthinking this. She’d been right. They’d had a great weekend, but it was time to reconnect with reality, with why they’d come together in the first place. The drugs.
He stared at the appointment on his screen, hating to reschedule. Maybe she could take Alex’s laptop to the guy? This was a side business he ran out of his house in Newberg, not terribly far from where she lived. But Kyle didn’t have time to take it to her before he had to be at The Arch and Vine. Would she come pick it up?
Glancing at the clock, he wondered if he could catch her between appointments. He dialed her cell phone and immediately got voicemail. Bummer. He texted her instead.
Can you call me when you get a sec? I have a favor to ask . . . Alex’s laptop and the computer forensics specialist . . .
A few minutes later, his phone rang, and it was Maggie. “Hi, you got my message,” he said.
“Yeah, I only have a second before my next patient. What do you need?”
You. Would her phone voice ever not arouse him? Get a grip, Archer. “I have an appointment with the computer forensics specialist at seven tonight. Just dropping off Alex’s laptop for him to investigate. But The Arch and Vine needs me to cook. Any chance—”
“Where?”
Kyle felt a surge of relief. “He’s maybe half a mile from your house—I’ll text you the address. You’ll have to come get the laptop though. I can’t make it out to Newberg before I have to be at the pub. I know this is an imposition, but I hate to reschedule.”
“It’s okay. I can’t come until after five though.”
“I’ll be at the pub then. Just drop by, and I’ll give it to you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“You want me to come to The Arch and Vine?” Her question came with a strong undercurrent of disbelief. “After what happened yesterday, I’d rather steer clear of anywhere I might run into an Archer.”
Damn, he hadn’t really thought about that, but it wasn’t like they lived at the pub. “It’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?”
He didn’t. For all he knew, Chloe was working a shift or Derek was bartending—everyone pitched in as needed from time to time. “There’s a small employee parking lot in back with a door to the kitchen that’s usually cracked open. I’ll leave my car keys on a hook by the door—just inside. You can grab them, get the laptop out of my car, and be out of there before anyone sees you.” Probably me included, which kind of sucked, but he didn’t say that. They were taking a breather, after all.
“Okay, I can do that.” She still sounded a bit uncertain, but before he could further allay her concern, she said, “I gotta go. See you later.”
He hoped so. They might have agreed to cool things off, but his body hadn’t gotten the memo. It heated just thinking about glimpsing her gorgeous eyes, the wild mass of her dark hair, the dip of her waist as it curved into her hip . . .
He shook his head and forced himself to get back to the report.
By quarter after five, Kyle had to reassess his opinion about Mondays. Or at least this Monday. He’d missed being in a commercial kitchen—the camaraderie, the craft, even the impossible juggling. It was like a well-choreographed dance, and while he hadn’t cooked in this kitchen in years, it was as though he’d never left.
“Are you offering different specials or what?” Tommy asked. He was on his way out to take his kid to an appointment.
Kyle surveyed the spice shelf. “Not sure yet. I might do a barbecue chicken wrap.”
“Sounds great, we do those from time to time.”
Kyle smiled at him as he pulled ingredients down to make his own sauce. “Not like this, you haven’t.”
“If customers love it, you’ll have to show us how to duplicate it,” he warned. “Have fun.” He left through the back door, next to which dangled Kyle’s keys. He was keeping half an eye on the door, but he really didn’t know what time Maggie would show up. He just knew it would be some time before six thirty.
After mixing up a batch of his signature barbecue sauce, he prepped some chicken and fired up the grill top. There was an assistant on tonight, but he was back and forth helping with bussing, running to the basement for supplies, and scrubbing his hands in between so he could help Kyle as needed. Mondays weren’t terribly busy, which was too bad. Kyle was in his element, and he’d missed it.
“Hey there!” A feminine voice drew him to look up from turning the chicken. Natalie stood in the doorway that led from the dining room, her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She wore a fitted workout outfit—cropped pants and a bright orange shirt. “I wanted to stop in before my run and check you out in the kitchen. How’s it going?” She came inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.
“Loving it.”
She moved closer, looking down at the grill. “What are you making?”
“Barbecue chicken wrap.” He slapped a whole wheat tortilla on the griddle and then sliced tomato and avocado on a large cutting board.
“Looks good.”
He grabbed some romaine and cut it into slender strips, making a chiffonade for the wrap.
“You are amazing with that knife.”
He flashed her a smile. “Don’t piss me off.”
She laughed. “I won’t! I might have to come back after my run and order one of those.”
He pulled the chicken off the grill and sliced it thin, then assembled the wrap. “Let me test it first.” He cut it in half and took a small bite. “Mmmm, not bad. It’s my signature sauce.”
“I bet it’s great. Here.” She reached up and wiped the side of his mouth where a dab of sauce had escaped the side of the wrap. Then she sucked the tip of her fing
er. “Delicious.”
Okay, that was definitely flirting. Outrageous, I’m-totally-interested-in-you flirting. Sara’s admonition from the other day came back to him.
“Natalie, I’m flattered that you, uh, like me. Or whatever.” What the fuck was he supposed to say? He wasn’t typically in the habit of turning advances down. Had he ever done that? But she was his employee, for crying out loud. Plus, there was Maggie. Maggie, who he shouldn’t be seeing but couldn’t stop thinking about.
Natalie’s eyes lit up, and she slid her hands around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. For a moment, he simply stood there, shocked.
But the second her lips touched his, he jerked back. At the same moment, he heard the jingle of keys. He snapped his head around to the back door, which had swung against the doorstop that kept it cracked open. His keys were gone.
Fuck and fuck.
He took Natalie’s arms from around his neck and backed away. “That was inappropriate,” he said, knowing there were better ways to defuse this situation but not wanting to take the time. “You’re my employee. I like you, but not romantically. Take the wrap if you want it.”
He dashed out of the kitchen and into the back parking lot just as Maggie was putting the laptop in her passenger seat. He rushed toward her, trapping her between her car and his SUV. Maybe there was a chance she hadn’t seen that . . . “I was hoping I’d see you.”
“Really? You looked pretty busy.” Nope, she’d seen it.
“I wasn’t. Natalie’s a flirt. I can’t do anything about that.”
“I guess not. You’re a babe magnet, right? I knew that about you, but seeing it firsthand is a real eye-opener.” As she turned to walk around her car, he grabbed her elbow and pressed her back against the driver door of the SUV.
Her anger pricked his ire. “You knew that about me? I guess Alex said more than you let on. Now you’re going to share information from his therapy? That’s convenient.”
She scowled at him. “Never mind. I need to get this laptop to the specialist.” She tried to squeeze past him, but he laid his palms against the window on either side of her head and pressed his body flush against hers.
“I appreciate you doing that.” He didn’t want her to be mad at him, especially about something that wasn’t even his fault. “Natalie’s just a coworker. A flirty coworker who barely registers on my radar.”
She blinked up at him, looking completely uninterested all of a sudden. “You don’t owe me an explanation, and I don’t have a right to be pissed. We aren’t a thing. We had a fun weekend, a great moment in time, and that moment’s over.”
Chapter Eleven
MAGGIE SMILED PLACIDLY up at him, hoping he’d buy it and she could get to her car and leave before she had a full-blown anxiety attack. No. She didn’t want to do that. She’d fooled around with him because it had made her feel good, and she refused to let it turn bad. They weren’t a thing.
She rushed to say, “I’ll let you know what the guy says when I drop the laptop off. I can’t pick it up for you though. Busy week.” She glanced at his arms, which were blocking her in. “Are you going to let me pass?”
His gaze darkened, and his hands inched closer to her head. “You say the moment has passed. I say this is another moment.”
She was too aware of the rise and fall of her chest as her heart rate accelerated. But other than that staccato rhythm, she didn’t move.
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Another glorious parking lot moment.” He bent his head to whisper, “I don’t think I can let another one pass me by.”
His teeth snagged her earlobe, and he tugged gently before skimming light kisses along her neck and the underside of her jaw. She held perfectly still, not wanting to encourage him and yet unable to ask him to stop.
His head came up, and he brought his mouth an inch from hers. “The only woman I’m interested in right now is you.”
She expected the kiss but not the searing passion that came with it. She was mad at him. He’d just said “right now” in reference to his desire for her, as if he might change his mind in an hour. But like he said, this was another moment, and in this moment she was his and he was hers, and she’d cling to that like crazy.
Clasping his hips, she anchored herself between him and the car, loving the pressure of his body against hers. The parking lot was small and secluded, with the pub on one side and a fence on two others. They could actually consummate this parking lot thing they had going if it weren’t for the capri pants she was wearing—not very conducive to spontaneous sex. Why hadn’t she worn the maxi dress she’d pulled out of her closet first that morning?
He pulled away but surged forward again for another quick kiss. “I need to get back inside before someone comes looking for me.”
Crap. Someone like another Archer?
She pulled her hands from his waist and pushed on his shoulders. “Yes, go. The last thing I want is for someone to catch us together again.”
He winced just before he turned his head to look at the door. When he faced her again, he said, “It’s fine. There’s no one here. No Archers anyway. Besides me.”
“I’m not sure it matters, Kyle.” She’d thought about it endlessly since yesterday. Alex would always be between them. “Alex is here.”
Kyle looked at her quizzically. “Obviously he’s not.”
She exhaled. “You know what I mean. I’ll always be the therapist who failed to recognize his suicidal thoughts and save him. You’ll never be able to forget that—and neither will I.”
His sensuous lips, so delicious a moment before, turned down in a distasteful smile. “I’m not thinking about him at all.”
“Maybe not right this second, but you were yesterday when Dylan came in.”
He pulled his hand through his hair, and she knew she was right. “I’m fine with it. I don’t blame you,” he said.
Maybe not in the way he used to blame her—with anger or vengeance—but he held her accountable. How could he not?
“Your family will, and you know that,” she said.
His jaw worked for a moment, the muscles clenching and releasing. “They might not.”
He didn’t sound as if he believed that. So how could she? “It doesn’t matter anyway. I think this moment is over, too.” This time when she tried to squeeze by him, he let her go. She paused before she climbed into the car. “I’ll let you know what the computer guy says.”
MAGGIE TOSSED HER half-eaten frozen lunch into the garbage. Her gaze landed on her phone, which was sitting at the edge of her desk blotter. For the hundredth time that week, she thought about calling Kyle.
No. She had zero reason to. She’d texted him that the computer forensics specialist would let them know when he was finished with his review of the laptop and that they probably wouldn’t hear anything until early next week.
She turned her chair away from the taunting phone.
Yesterday had been the worst because it was Wednesday, and she’d had no appointments to keep herself busy. She’d occupied the morning doing work at home—writing reports and returning a few phone calls. In the afternoon, she’d tried to tackle the boxes she’d stowed in her walk-in closet but had ended up outside in the yard instead. Typical.
Snap out of it, she told herself.
She prepared for her next appointment—Ryan Dillinger. He made her a little nervous, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She’d actually been thinking about how she might transfer him to a different therapist in the clinic. There were only four of them, including Dr. Innes, but maybe John or Paige could take him.
Stacy knocked lightly before opening the door. “Mr. Dillinger is here. You ready?”
Maggie nodded. “Thanks.” She stood from her desk as Stacy went to get him. Taking a deep breath, Maggie picked up her notepad and went to her chair angled beside the couch.
Stacy opened the door wider to let Ryan in and then closed it behind her when she left.
“Hi, Ryan,” Mag
gie said. Right away she could tell something was wrong. He leaned back against the closed door; he was white as a sheet, and a bead of perspiration slid down his temple.
“Are you okay?” she asked tentatively as apprehension and adrenaline spiked through her. Slowly she stood, careful not to make any quick movements.
His gaze was fixed out the windows, but he didn’t seem to be actually seeing anything. “I’m . . . overwhelmed. I didn’t get either one of those jobs I interviewed for last week.”
Her chest constricted with genuine pity, an emotion she knew he’d hate—most people did, herself included. It was the absolute worst thing, a sort of validation that you were as pathetic and worthless as you imagined yourself to be. It was the world saying, “Yes, your life does in fact suck.”
“You still have another one you’re waiting to hear on, right?”
He shook his head. “No, I got a form letter on that one last week. I told you about that.” He kicked his foot flat against the door, making her jump. “Don’t you listen to me?”
The prickles of unease that had formed as soon as he’d walked in iced into genuine fear. She worked to keep her tone even, calming. “Yes, but I don’t always recall every detail for every patient.” She used to. Before Alex. It was just another way she’d become the world’s shittiest therapist.
Ryan nodded slightly, and she allowed herself to relax. Big mistake.
He pulled a gun from the back of his waistband. Instinctively, she circled around her desk and ducked down.
“Stand up,” he said, sounding weary instead of furious like he had a moment before. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
She peered at him over the edge of her desk, still cowering behind the corner farthest from him. “Why do you have a gun?” She reached for the panic button installed on the underside of her center drawer. Finding the hard, round button, she pressed it until her finger hurt.
“I told you to stand up.” His tone became harsh again, though not quite as angry as it had been.
