Page 59 of Touch of Fondness

“Sorry about that,” said Brielle after a beat. “So, um… That was why, huh? It wasn’t about you cleaning up after yourself—it really was about me ‘fraternizing’ with you?”

He imagined his mother’s face from the night before, hurt but haughty, the perfect recipe for swearing revenge. “My mother can be unreasonable…”

“I thought she liked me after last night,” said Brielle. “Sort of. Enough to refer me to someone at the museum anyway.”

Archer had almost forgotten all about the museum. And how the fact that he’d been able to text Brielle—that this whole unforgettable, amazing day had happened—was because his mother had forgotten entirely about her promise to make a few calls to aid with Brielle’s job prospects. “She did,” lied Archer, but he had a feeling she’d dislike any woman she thought he might be remotely interested in, despite all her talk about setting him up. She probably only said those things because she hoped he never would take her up on them. “I mean, it was more about her and me. It’s true that she didn’t like that I was relying on you too much.”

Chewing her lip, Brielle broke into a faltering smile. “Well, youarepretty tidy. I don’t think you need a daily house cleaning.” She tapped her fingers on her thigh, again drawing Archer’s attention to those form-fitting jeans. “But you never even told her last night that we were…” She stopped, maybe trying to think of how to define them.

He wanted her to define them. But she wouldn’t finish her sentence.

“She blamed the ‘fraternizing’ for canceling when calling your mother no doubt, but really, it was about me. Her and me.” Archer swallowed. He wondered if she could smell the mommy issues that stank all over him. “We’ve had… problems when it comes to her ignoring my privacy.”

“You didn’t expect her to show last night, did you?”

“No,” he admitted. “And things kind of went south from there, once you left.” Eager to change the subject, he started scrolling through his phone screen for nothing in particular. “Is… your friend from last night okay?”

“I don’t even know.” She shook her head and looked off behind him. “So much has happened, I can’t even believe it’s only been twenty-four hours.”

“But your sister was stopped,” he said. “That’s good.” He really had no skills when it came to this communication thing, did he?

“Yeah,” said Brielle. She paused. “Did you really come here just to… offer me moral support?”

He tried to smile, but he was pretty sure the best he offered was a lopsided grin. “Stupid, wasn’t it?”

She laughed. At least he had that going for him. “No, I… I appreciate it.” She squeezed her fingers together. “I guess I won’t be seeing you tomorrow, huh?”

“I still need some help redecorating. We didn’t exactly get around to that.”

More laughter.God, seeing her laugh has got to be the best form of foreplay.“I’d be totally fine with stopping by later this week.”

His heart sank.Not tomorrow?He’d pushed too hard, come on too strong. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice faltering.

At least she wasn’t done with him entirely.

Chapter Twenty

Apartof Brielle pictured Archer at the airport like one of those star-crossed lovers in a movie. Rushing through security in a comical way that would get someone arrested in real life. Pledging eternal love and a desire to make things work, even though there was a reason why the lovers were being parted at the airport in the first place—probably something to do with their plans for life leading to such different places. And those differences weren’t going to vanish just because the credits rolled and the music swept in, portending a happily ever after.

But she wasn’t the one getting on a plane, leaving him behind—at least not yet. And they hadn’t discussed their future plans. They’d just met—what future was there to speak of?

Curse you and your gorgeously handsome self.She knew better than to jump in bed with someone too quickly. That hadn’t gone well with Daniel either of the times she’d let her sex drive take over her brain.

It’d been five days since she’d seen Archer. Her mom hadn’t even pressed her about why Mrs. Ward had considered her to be “fraternizing” with him. She didn’t even ask why he had been at the airport. Perhaps she really did believe it was a coincidence.

Brielle herself wasn’t sure what him showing up at the airport had meant. It meant he liked her—likereallyliked her maybe. Or perhaps he just thought it was the nice thing to do. But to go out of his way to that extent—to get a ride from his dad? Did he have it bad for her?

Did that make her feel good—or bad?

Her confusion on that matter was why she’d eventually promised to see him this weekend, feigning being busy during the week. Slow it down. Make it more casual. Shedidhave other clients to clean for and jobs to apply for, but mostly she’d been spending her evenings in sweatpants munching on chips while watching YouTube videos. The most activity her brain had had after her grueling five-a-day-minimum jobs she sent resumes out for was getting into a debate with some stupid user about whether or notThe Walking DeadTV fans could even call themselves fans without reading the comics. The asshole had even questioned whether or not she knew what a comic was.

Archer’sWheelscomic sat tantalizingly staring at her every time she was in her room from the top of a pile of boxes next to her desk. She’d read it twice more that week, tracing her fingers over the wheelchair-using Todd she imagined to be Archer’s stand-in. She’d forgotten to get it signed. At a signing.

“Meh meh.” One of Mrs. Tanaka’s cats—Tigger—rubbed up against Brielle’s thigh as he made cute little chirping noises. She took off her rubber glove and pet the top of his head with one finger. For some reason, this cat really liked her this year.

“No, Tigger, it’s not lunch yet.” Mrs. Tanaka swooped in to her bathroom to scoop her cat up. She kissed his cheek and Brielle laughed at the cat’s panicked expression. “And Miss Brielle isn’t the one who gives you food.”

She smiled up at her client—a woman she found far less irritating this summer, along with her cats—as she went back to scrubbing the tiles. She didn’t think the tiles needed it three times a week, but who was she to argue with a client?

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