I ran several sheets under the water and also gave him dry ones. After cleaning the paint from my skirt, I opened the door to evaluate the damage.
On his knees, Archer studiously wiped the color off the floor. He’d already erected the table and put the lids back on the jars. Even the store sign was thoughtfully propped against the wall.
I collected a clean paper towel from the table. “Come here.”
He sat back on his heels and reclined his head. “What?”
I wiped it across his cheek. “You’ve got paint all over you.”
“I guess that means I have a colorful personality.”
After meticulously wiping his face, I used a clean rag to work on his hair, all while turning a worried gaze about the room.
He caught my wrist. “It’s just paint.”
But it wasn’t just paint. It was a mess. It was a show of disrespect and laziness. It was an example of how I didn’t value anything.
“Noah doesn’t like messy.”
Archer stood and raked his stained hand through his hair as if making a point.
“Are your slovenly ways supposed to impress me?” I asked.
He swiped a dab of paint from the table and tapped my nose. Then he arched an eyebrow in a challenge.
I had an inexplicable urge to laugh and splash paint right back on him, but…
“You need to leave. He’ll be here any minute.” I wiped my nose with a dry paper towel and assessed Archer’s outfit, which now resembled abstract art. “I’m sorry I ruined your clothes. I wasn’t even thinking about that.”
“You worry too much, cutie-pie. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.” After collecting the dirty rags and disposing of them, Archer took off his black loafers and checked the bottoms. “My clothes can be replaced. Your books can’t. I hope I didn’t wreck anything,” he said, glancing at the shelf close by. “Maybe you should call Noah. I don’t like leaving you here alone.”
“You’re never alone when you have books.”
When my stomach growled, I covered it with embarrassment.
Archer frowned. “Did you eat anything today?”
I shrugged. “I had a big breakfast.”
“Not big enough. Here’s how we solve your waiting-game situation.” After putting his shoes back on, he bent over the table and used a marker to write something. Then he showed it to me.
“I’m at the Rabbit Lounge?”
Archer jerked his head, inviting me to follow him. “We’ll hang it on the door so he’ll know where to find you. That way, he won’t see the mess, and maybe he’ll feel better knowing someone’s looking after you.”
“I’m not sure he’d feel better if he knew it was you.”
“He doesn’t know about us, does he?” Concern flickered in his eyes.
“No. Of course not.”
After turning out the light and locking up, we made a slow stroll across the parking lot.
Archer veered away from his car. “Let’s walk, just in case he drives by,” he said. “We’ll get Hope’s car later.”
“Thanks.”
I gazed up at the rising moon.
