Page 76 of Deja New
She crossed her arms over her chest.Wait! Not so much with the defensive body language.Then she dropped her arms and just sort of stood there.Oh, yes, very natural. Cripes.“I did not.”
“I can’t believe this. It’s almost unprecedented. Your sex life—”
“Which I won’t be discussing with you today or ever, so put that thought out of your teeny-tiny mind forever.”
“—is your business.”
“How wise of you to know it.”
“But is hesuchan improvement over Klown that you banged him within days of meeting him?”
“Technically it’d be within a month of meeting him. And I didn’t bang anyone! In the last month, I mean.” There’d been the lawyer who was clerking for Judge Finney last spring, but Angela had made the classic American error of mistaking an accent for a personality. He had Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice, Moriarty’s conscience, and Mycroft’s bedroom skills: chilly and to the point.
Archer pointed to her head. “Your post-sex hair says otherwise.”
“My hair isn’t post-sex. And even if it was, my hair wouldn’t say one damned word to you.”
“So does your pleasant expression. And the fact that you’re not looking around for a brick to hit me with. You definitely slept with himow-ow-ow!”
She’d reached out and pinched him on the bicep and, when he jerked back and rubbed his arm, she hissed, “I did not!”
“My fault, I shouldn’t have used the past tense. Youaresleeping together.”
“We are not sleeping together! In the present tense or otherwise. We are napping together.”
“Spare me the lugubrious details, pervert.”
“We cleaned up Dad’s grave and had a picnic and fell asleep under a willow tree on an island full of dead Burnhams and then had to sprint to his car so we weren’t late. Which is why I’m a mess.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
“So much to process.”
“I’m not asking you to process.”
“Well, you’re a cute mess,” Archer said, smiling. “Listen: I couldn’t give a shit who you’re banging.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “Or nap-banging. I just want you to be with someone who gets how great you are.”
“You take that ba— Oh. And?” She braced herself for the punch line. Great at nagging? Great at obsessing over a decade-old murder? Great at hiding the tape measure from Paul? Great at designing a chore board they all loved and hated in equal measure? What?
“And nothing. You like him, he likes you and gets you, that’s all I’d ever want for you.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks.”
“And I’m not going to ask, because I already know the answer.”
“You’re losing me. Ask what?”
“If you’re nap-banging him because you think it’ll help Dad’s case.”
“Oh. Good call on not asking.” She gave him a narrow look. “I’d hate to break your nose.”
He nodded. “But you know whowillassume that. Right?”
She sighed. “Mom.”
“Auntie Em, yup. She’s always so weird around cops, it’s almost like...” He trailed off.
