Page 19 of A Texas Hero

“I’m…what? Me? Oh, no. I didn’t come here for…” And then it hit her. “You saw me coming out of the cancer ward, didn’t you?”

He held up a palm. “No need to explain, please. I am just…sorry.”

Zoey bit on her lower lip to keep from laughing. “I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. I was just here visiting. This is one of my father’s biggest charities. The Conchita Lambert Cancer Ward. It’s named after my mother.”

“Dio Mio.” His dark eyes were sorrowful.

Zoey reached out and took his arm. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

She led him to the outdoor tables in the gardens near the campus café. At this time of the year, even the hospital was decorated. They had pumpkins strewn about and fairy lights strung on the shrubs. Zoey loved it.

“Have a seat.” She pointed.

Archer scanned the area first. This guy was never relaxed, not even in a healing garden. He slowly took the bench seat opposite hers, folded his hands and raised his head to meet her eyes.

“Archer,” she said. “My mom passed away from cancer. But you don’t need to worry—I don’t have cancer, nor have I ever had cancer.”

“I’m glad of that, and sorry I assumed.” The crease in his brow deepened. “I thought it was the only reason you’d leave the house without letting me know was not wanting to skip your treatment.”

“Honestly, I thought I’d get back before you did. I visit the cancer ward often to offer my support in any way I can. Almost every Monday. It’s my dad’s charity in my mother’s memory.”

Archer slumped. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Well, it’s not okay and it never will be, you know? But I’ve learned to live with the grief, and every time I’m here, I feel her here with me.” She paused, and then said, “Why would you think I wasn’t just here visiting someone?”

He quirked a brow. “I assumed you wouldn’t ignore my orders for any other reason than if you were getting treatment.”

“Fair. And why were you here today? I suspected you hurt your foot yesterday but you wouldn’t say anything. How bad is it?”

Archer rose. “Why don’t I get us some coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll have a pumpkin spice latte, please.”

Either he was avoiding the subject or trying to be kind in view of his big mistake. Still, she appreciated the sincerity she’d seen in those amber eyes of his. He was definitely not someone who lacked compassion. A good sign. She watched him walk toward the café counter without a hitch in his step, no longer leaning to the right. Maybe she’d been imagining that she’d detected a limp.

He set her latte down. “Tell me more about your mother.”

There was no surer way to get Zoey to talk for hours. She’d cut it short for him.

“Well, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“Like you.”

“Definitely more so than me. She could stand up to my father, even though she was all of five foot three and he’s a solid six five.”

“You got your father’s height.”

“It helped with my modeling career. My mother was my biggest champion and protector. When I was sixteen, we started traveling the world together so I could model. She accompanied me everywhere as my chaperone. My father, of course, would not have allowed it without her. I’m so grateful now. So many girls didn’t have that kind of support. Because of my mother, I stayed out of trouble. Anyway, that’s how I got involved in the world of fashion.”

“When did you stop modeling?”

A stone formed in Zoey’s throat. “When she got sick.”

“How old were you?”