“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you by accident.” I rest my hand on Steve’s arm and ignore the sweat already forming on my skin. From the sun? Or from Roscoe’s beady stare?Probably the second.“This is okay, right? This house. Mary.” I risk a peek at the stern older woman who long ago perfected her cranky schoolmarm look. “You like it here, don’t you?”
“Here, in the mansion you summoned out of thin air?” Steve releases a coughing chuckle, nodding his approval. “Yes, Miss Minka, this is quite alright. I’ll do as Mary orders and get back on my feet as quickly as possible. I won’t be in your hair a moment longer than necessary.”
“No rush.” I stroke his arm and hate how horribly thin his skin is. He’s too susceptible to illness. Too close to the wrong end of life. “I encourage your recovery, but not because I want you to leave. The house will be a nice break from the stifling heat downtown, and the gardens here are quite extensive. Seems the Malone men have a penchant for pretty things. A walk amongst the flowers will do you good.”
“And swimming too, right?” Christabelle’s eyes go to the glittering pool just ten feet away. No one lives here, and beyond a handful of casual visits, I’m not sure this place has seen a human in thirty years. Yet, the water sparkles blue, and the tiles within glisten a perfect white. “Aqua exercise can be an excellent way for a man to start moving again, no?”
“I used to swim.” Steve’s eyes flicker with hope, searching mine for approval. “Did you know that? For a short time in my youth, I represented my school on the swim team.”
“I didn’t know, no. I think that’s pretty cool, though.”
He turns his hand beneath mine and wraps his fingers around my wrist, linking us with surprising strength. “I won’t lie. The moment Mary brought me out here this morning, I caught sight of the pool and felt like I was fifteen all over again. There’s something magical that occurs in the water.”
“While I don’t disagree with you, I can’t allow you to swim just yet. You’re not allowed, and won’t be for a while.”
“Really?” His lips turn downward. “But it’s good for my recovery. Like Ms. Cannon said.”
“Sure, but she’s not a doctor. She’s just a woman with no respect for the limitations a human body must work with. Your surgeon will need to sign off on swimming, and considering the pressure it would place on your healing sternum, I wouldn’t expect clearance for at least three?—”
“Weeks?” His eyes alight. “That’s so far away.”
“Months.”
And just like that, his expression falls.
“You can’t submerge your chest until it’s fully healed. But consider the celebration when you do.” I brush the side of his arm with the pad of my thumb. “We’ll have a pool party just for the occasion.”
“Three months is alongtime to wait. By then, you’ll have grown tired of the old man stinking up your space. I won’t have healed enough for a dip deeper than a bathtub, but I’ll be good enough to return downtown. Once that happens, I’ll be busy, and you’ll be busy, and then the weather’ll grow cold.” He flutters his lashes, adorably ridiculous and just silly enough to make Christabelle snicker. “You’re a surgeon, right? You could clear me.”
“No. And no.” I cast my eyes across and perk up as Felix stalks through the back door, chattering to Zora, while behind him, a trail of Malone men follow.
Micah first. Cato second. And at the end, a sullen Archer.
I narrow my eyes in thought.
Micah murmurs something in Mary’s ear. Meanwhile, Christabelle sets her cup of tea down and extends her hands, eagerly accepting the baby when Felix brings her closer.
She cradles her daughter in one arm and slides the front of her top down with her free hand, placing her nipple between Zora’s lips. They’re practiced now. They’re pros. But while Felix stares at them, I watch Archer.
His eyes are darker now than they were when I walked away. The stress etched deep into the wrinkle between his brow, more pronounced than it was moments ago.
Curious, I settle back in my chair and fold one leg over the other, watchful as the remaining Malones decide on their next move. Cato peels off and saunters toward the edge of the pool—not surprised—and Micahwanders around to stand behind Tiia, placing his hands on her shoulders until she melts into his touch.
While her brother scowls, she hums her appreciation.
If I had a brother, would he be mad every time Archer touched me?
Part of me wants to get up and go to him. I want to know what they discussed inside and what led to this new darkness settling over his head. But another part of me knows he won’t announce his business in front of a crowd, anyway. So I remain where I am, and breathe a little easier when he starts this way. He slides his fingertips over the back of my neck, sending goosebumps sprinting along my bare legs, then he surprises me by grabbing my hand. Tugging viciously fast, he yanks me out of my chair, plops onto the metal frame, and then drags me onto his lap and locks his arms across my torso. “Stay right here with me.”
Stunned, I twist and search his shadowed eyes. “Are you okay?”
He nods, though we both know it’s a lie. Then he tilts his head backwards, gesturing toward my George Stanley guests. “I’ll tell you later.”
I glance over his head and study the Darling sisters sitting by the pool. Platinum blonde hair, long tan legs—both of them—and Cato’s beaming smile as he squeezes in between the pair. Then, I bring my focus back to Archer’s emerald gaze and the secrets he keeps secure behind it. The emotion. The things he’s not ready to share. Leaning close, I rest my lips by his ear and murmur, “You want me to tell them to leave?”
“Not yet. It’s okay.” He kisses the side of my neck, his hand growing tighter on my thigh, and when his pocket vibrates against my leg, he folds to the side and drags the device free. Then, he takes a moment and reads whatever was sent. In silence, he taps out a fast reply, hits send, then locks the screen and tosses the device onto the table. “Fletch and Mia are on their way. We’re gonna have something to eat and an hour or two of relaxation. Doctor Raquel and her sister look like they wanna swim, and Mia’s already in her suit.”
“Lucky them,” Steve drawls playfully. “I’d like a swim, too, Detective. That’s okay, right?”
