Page 28 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Archer?” I call, and he stops midway to his door, turning expectantly. “Thank you for Saturday. For everything really, but mostly Saturday.”

“You’ve already thanked me more than enough times.”

I sag against the door frame, my cheek pressed to the cool metal. “Is there such a thing?” He rescued Clem, he slept here, he took care of us in the morning, he listened to my deepest darkest fears about motherhood and didn’t bat an eye. Then he set up a recurring delivery for Clementine’s formula and told me to give up the diet and eat some cheese. All of this, and he’s known us for eight weeks.

His shirt appears before my face a moment later, and his hand tips my jaw. “I realize in this day and age people are more often concerned with themselves than others, but I’m not that type of man. Maybe it’s my southern roots or my momma’s upbringing, but I care about people.” His hand falls to his side. “I care about you. And that sweet girl. I’ll be here for whatever you need, Willa. And one thank you will suffice. Okay?”

I nod, and Archer presses a kiss to the crown of my head before disappearing into his apartment.

ChapterTen

ARCHER

I’m going roundand round with a client when there’s a knock on my front door. Pushing away from my desk, I sigh as Ben, an up-start in the interior design world who can’t understand how less can be more when it comes to his website, repeats his vision for the umpteenth time.

“Ben, I understand you want something next-level”—I open the door and wave Willa and a wiggly Clementine in—“but it doesn’t matter how flashy the site is. If we design the interface in a way too difficult for users to navigate, they’re gonna be turned away.”

One sec,I mouth to Willa.

“Right, yeah, we can do both function and style. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”

“Next-level?” Willa asks the moment I end my call.

With a groan, I steal Clem from her arms. “Don’t ask. The man won’t be happy until I’m forced to put warnings for flashing light sequences across his site before users can enter. He’s one of those futuristic designers who think sitting on furniture shaped like waves is comfortable.”

When Willa eyes me like I’m crazy, I carry Clem to my desk and pull Ben’s file up. “I’m not kidding. He sold this chair for forty-five thousand, Will.”

Willa’s eyes bug, and that’s before she gets a good look at the black velvet starfish-shaped chair on the screen. “Who was wasted enough to spend that much on a chair that looks like Patrick from SpongeBob Squarepants? Archer, that thing is freaky as hell.” She can’t hold back her laughter as we stare at the monstrosity.

“It was some social media celebrity. I can’t remember his name. It’s ridiculous.” Clem gives a happy squeal. “I know, pretty girl. People are silly, aren’t they?” Says the man pretending to munch on chubby baby fingers as Clementine grabs at my face. But, hey, acting a fool with babies is mandatory.

“She’s happy this afternoon.”

“Yeah, she slept really well last night for a change.” Willa smooths down her blonde hair.

“Good girl, being nice to momma.” I bounce Clem in my arms. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I called my doctor this morning to see if I could get in earlier—”

I pause my bouncing, studying Willa as concern takes up residence in my chest the way it does every time something happens with these two. “Is everything okay?” After my conversation with Devin two weeks ago, I did my fair share of research on mother-infant bonding and postpartum depression. Then I did more after Willa broke down her feelings Saturday while she was sick.

“You’re looking at me like you suspect I stole your Kit-Kat.”

“First, no, I’m not. I’m concerned, that’s all.” I switch Clem to my hip when she doesn’t stop grabbing at my face. “Second, stealing my favorite candy bar is a serious crime, Ms. Hawthorne. Truly. Not a funny joke.”

“Then stop looking at me like you think I’m going to have a mental breakdown before your eyes.” Willa’s shoulders curve in until she’s hugging herself. “I don’t like feeling this way toward my daughter, Archer. If something is going on with my hormones and body that they can help fix, I want to fix it now.” She drops her head.

“I’m sorry. Not for a second do I want you to think I’m looking at you in that way. I know how much you care about Clem and her safety and well-being. And as much as you care about her, that’s how much I care about you both. Okay?” I move to her, smoothing my hand over her hair to cup her jaw. “Do you need me to watch Clem for you? Is that why you came over?”

Her dejected gaze lifts. “Tomorrow at ten? I could bring her with me, but it will be easier to be open with my doctor if I don’t have to keep up with her. I know you have a business to run and—”

“Stop. You don’t even have to ask. Of course, I’ll watch her. I do have a request of my own, though.” Willa waits. “You two have to cook dinner with me tonight.”

“That’s it?” Her relief is palpable.

“Wow. What did you think I would do, make you my slave?”

Snatching Clem from my hands, Willa’s cheeks flush red. Turning on her heel, she heads for the door. “While that sounds tempting, I’ll see you later.”

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