Page 12 of Saved By the Sergeant

For the first time in my life, I know without a shadow of a doubt… I am safe.

I am truly safe.

6

ARCHER

“You sleptin that chair all night, didn’t you?”

I crack one eye open. “Good morning, to you, too.” I’m not telling her I haven’t slept a wink. After she cried her eyes out, I carried her upstairs to lay her down, and the poor thing passed out from sheer emotional exhaustion. She was so fragile that I couldn’t leave her alone.

Geneva swings her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m sorr?—”

“Don’t.” I lean forward, and rest my forearms on my thighs. “No more apologies for you. Your apology tour is over, okay?”

“Okay,” she says as she runs her fingers through her hair. “If you’re not going to allow me to apologize, how about I take a shower and make you breakfast?”

“If you’re cooking, sweetheart, I’m not turning it down.” I stand up to stretch my back. “I think I’ll shower, too. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Gizmo pokes his head out from underneath the blanket I covered her with last night.

“You’re such a good boy.” He scratches him between the ears. “I’ll cook for you, too.”

I start for the door. “You’ll be all right?”

“I’ll be just fine,” she says as she puts three fingers in the air. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

“You were a Girl Scout?”

“No,” she smiles. “I saw it in a movie once.”

“You like movies?”

“I do.”

“Well then, you have come to the right place, sweetheart. I have a movie library full of classics. And we’re snowed in. So, we can spend all day watching whatever your heart desires.”

“Do you have popcorn?” Her eyes twinkle.

“Does a zebra have stripes?” I wiggle my brows.

“Awesome. It’s a date.” Her cheeks flush bright red. “I mean...umm…I…”

“Sweetheart, relax. It is a date,” I step into the hallway. “I’ll pick you up in the kitchen.”

I’m never goingto look at yoga pants or oversized sweaters the same. Never. As Geneva bends over to take a pan out of the oven, I have to adjust myself under the table. The woman has a body that would make a sculptor weep.

She sets a platter of pancakes and bacon on the table. “Breakfast is served.”

“I’m going to have to go on a diet by the time this storm is over,” I say as I load up my plate.

“I doubt that very much,” she smiles. “I want to thank you for last night. And before you say anything, it’s a thank you, not an apology.”

“Gratitude received.” I drizzle syrup over my stack of pancakes. “And you’re welcome.”

Geneva snaps a strip of bacon in half. “I looked out the window this morning. There’s a lot of snow out there.”

“Indeed. I’m guessing it’s close to twenty-six inches. My friend Clyde told me the storm was going to be a record-breaker. And I’m pretty sure he’s right.”

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