He lifts his glass and studies the last mouthful as he purses his lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was glaring at the whiskey. Then he finishes it off and puts the glass down with a little more force than is necessary. Maybe he’s a tad tipsy too.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get going.”
I rise from the bar stool, not too unsteadily, and follow him out of the bar. The evening has cooled significantly—one benefit of living near the sea. In fact I shiver a little as we start walking down the path that follows the beach.
“Cold?” he asks.
“It’s fresh.”
“Sorry, I don’t have a jacket or I’d give it to you.”
“It’s okay.” I don’t think having his jacket around my shoulders is a good idea. It’s oddly intimate when a guy does that, as if he’s wrapping you in his arms.
I look out, at the lagoon and the Pacific Ocean beyond. It’s a cloudless night. Orion is clearly visible above. The hunter watching over me. The analogy with Archer doesn’t escape me. He cares for me because he’s a very, very good friend. And it’s best that I continue to think of him like that.
Chapter Four
Archer
Beth walks quietly beside me, looking out to sea. I risk a glance at her, my pulse picking up speed again at the thought that she’s coming back to my house with me. I’ve dreamed of this often… but not in this way. Not after just breaking up with Jude. Not surrounded by such sadness and sorrow.
There’s no danger of me getting carried away with my daydreams. I’m still convinced there’s a chance that Jude will contact her and tell her it’s all been a mistake, and then she’ll go running back to him. I’ll be thankful I was there for her as a friend, and not taking advantage of her misery to tell her how I feel about her, in the hope that she’ll cling to me for comfort like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.
“I love your house,” she says. She’s been there a few times with Jude. “It’s so beautifully situated, and it always feels so comfortable.”
“Thank you. Yeah, it’s a great place. I’ve made a lot of changes since Dad died. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I’d sold the place, though.”
We turn left and head up the hill that slopes gently away from the beach. The Cole family home sits halfway up, with a glorious view of Sunrise Bay and the Pacific beyond. The low, rhythmic hush of the waves in the distance blends with the soft chorus of cicadas from the bush behind the village.
She sighs. “It’s difficult when houses hold memories. Your mum died quite a long time ago, right?”
“I was fifteen. She had breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry. And your dad died three years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish I’d met him. Do you think he would have liked me?”
The question surprises me. “He’d have adored you. He liked kind people.”
“That’s nice. I’ve heard so much about him. He played a big part in the community, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He was President of the local Rotary Club and helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for charities. He had such energy and drive. He made you feel as if every problem could be fixed, if you worked hard enough.”
“What job did he do?”
“He was a senior partner at a law firm.”
“Clever guy.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Do you think you take after him?”
“Oh, I’m nowhere near as smart.”
She scoffs. “Now you’re being self-deprecating. You’re the smartest guy I know.”
