Archer loomed over her, his shadow casting a long line of shade across the boiling asphalt. “I think you were more than finished in there.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Cordelia would’ve stomped her foot on his boot if she wasn’t certain he was wearing steel toes. “Why don’t you just go on and mind your own business? We don’t have any reason to cross paths.”
“You know that’s not true.” He leaned in closer, and the piney scent of his aftershave made her breath hitch. “I think you at least owe me an explanation of why you skipped out on me the other night. Do you have any idea how much I had to pay the courier to keep the sight of me in a leather banana hammock to himself?”
Cordelia laughed, realizing a second too late that was the wrong move, when his expression turned blacker than the clouds moving in from the horizon. The sky rumbled overhead just for good measure. She cleared her throat. “Looks like a storm is moving in.”
“A storm’s coming, all right.” His grim expression had her backing up a step. The amusement that normally twinkled in his eyes had guttered. “You’ve really got nothing to say for yourself?”
“I changed my mind.” She lifted her chin. “Don’t tell me that was your first time experiencing a woman saying no to you.”
The twitch of his mustache suggested it might’ve been, but he lifted a finger. “I’ve got no problem with the word ‘no.’ And I knew from the get-go that you were likely messing with me. What I have a problem with is squeezing into a costume you insisted on, then you not even having the courtesy to tell me you were leaving.”
“You survived.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Cordelia’s momma didn’t hand out practical advice very often, but she was fond of saying a person could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Taking a deep and calming breath, she schooled her features to look less confrontational. “I’m sorry.”
Those two words cost her about a pound of pride, but it was the right thing to do. She’d been using Archer. He’d known it, but he hadn’t known she would leave him high and dry. Something about him just made her want to argue. No one else brought out that side of her, not even her momma when she’d fallen off the wagon for the sixth time in a year after endless promises to quit drinking.
“Sorry for leaving?” A spark of mischief lit his eyes. “Or sorry you missed the show?”
Heat rose to Cordelia’s cheeks. “Maybe a bit of both.”
He shook his head, his gaze dipping to her lips. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing I’d be interested in.”
“We’ll see about that.” He wrenched his eyes away from her mouth, tipped his hat, and strolled away, just as casual as could be.
As soon as he turned his back, Cordelia had a strong urge to say something mean, just to light that fire under him again. What was wrong with her? She didn’t do confrontation, but Archer was just... walking away. Minding his business, like she asked. So why did it make her feel like she’d ruined something she never knew she wanted?
Cordelia slid into the driver’s side, half dazed. Daisy poked her head between the seats from her spot in the back. “What was that all about with Archer?”
Cordelia started her car. “He just wanted to clear the air, is all.”
“He doesn’t know about us using his passwords for the lab, does he?” Belinda Sue asked.
“No, he didn’t mention it.” Cordelia drove off, doing her best to keep her eyes straight ahead and not let them trail to where Archer still sat in his truck in the parking lot.
An unease followed her into town, thicker than the incoming storm, which promised to be a doozy. An ache on her heart that pulsed below the surface, like a sore tooth that hadn’t fully healed. It must’ve been the weather bringing down her mood. She refused to pin any of her current feelings on Archer Reed-Smythe.
By the time they arrived at the library, the sky had opened up. Sheets of hard summer rain sizzled as they hit the sun-soaked sidewalk. Daisy and Belinda Sue hollered when rain pelted their wigs and made the synthetic strands melt from their heads like cheap wax.
From underneath the awning, Daisy shivered as she tried to pile her wet beehive into a respectable twist, but there was no saving it. She looked like a drowned rat with bright red lips and too much rouge.
“I’m not going in there looking like this.” Her mouth hardened into a stubborn frown. “Call it vanity if you like, but lookin’ good is my business and I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Who’s going to see you?” Cordelia asked.
“Anyone might,” Daisy said. “If old men can’t sit outside and gossip, they go to the diner or the library to gossip. Ain’t no place safe in this town in a rainstorm.”
“She’s right.” Belinda Sue bobbed her head and her wet victory curls flopped down her neck. “We’re not showing our faces in there lookin’ the way we do.”
“I’ve got a sewing kit on me.” Cordelia opened her purse and began rooting around in the side pockets. “Pretty sure I got some spare bobby pins in there.”
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, Miss Cordelia, but I don’t think bobby pins are going to save this.” Daisy held her wet wig with one hand and covered her face with the other.
