Page 33 of Compassion

Archer shuts the door to the garage and pauses. “Would you mind if I came with you?”

“To the grocery store?”

He enthusiastically nods.

“Sure, but only if you promise me that it’s not to stock up on supplies for a midnight escape from my garage.”

Mirth quickly paints itself in his gaze as well as mine. “Promise, sweetheart.”

The two-word combination causes the butterflies in my stomach to go berserk for the umpteenth time.

Geez, what the hell am I getting myself into? And more importantly, why am I totally, one-hundred and fifty percent, okay with it?

Chapter 8

Archer

Fuck, I don’t know how we got here.

Yeah, obviously I know how wephysicallygot here. It was her idea for us to read on the couch side by side after lunch, but I didn’t expect her to be passed out less than five minutes later with her feet in my lap. What I meant was I don’t know how we gothere.This…close? I guess if you break down the timeline, itmightmake sense? It started with coffee. One cup each. Both mugs bearing cheesy book phrases – mine said ‘So many books. So little time.’ while hers had a glass of spilled wine on it and the phrase ‘Not so loud, I had book club last night’. This naturally led to her telling meaboutsaid book club, which was why she had come home later the night before. Learning about that preceded learning about her job – librarian at a private early childhood academy – over scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Not moaning during the whole process was by far the most difficult part of our morning. Watching her cook was a delightful sight in itself, the way her hips sway side to side while timing whatever needs to be timed but listening to her giggle over every joke I made – cheap puns and witty one-liners alike – was undoubtedly sexier. And hiding the wood I kept popping was ridiculously fucking hard – pun intended. After we finished our meal, which contained so much conversation about classic literature that I almost felt like I was in a community college course on the subject, she did something she apparently never does. She decided to take the whole day off. No, you heard me right. The whole fucking day. Even though the roads were thawing – thanks to the random spike in sun and heat – it was obvious there was still some lingering anxiety about getting back out there. And when I spotted the familiar tells of trauma, I encouraged her to take the time if she could afford it as to not trigger an episode or worse situation for herself. She seemed surprised I cared but took the advice. And then when I learned it was an option all along from her boss, I told her she shouldalwaystake the day instead of risking her life no matter how much she loves her job. The last thing she needs is to be on an icy road, have her tires lose a little traction, and then spiral out into a full blown panic attack where she crashes or causes someone else to. She saw my very valid point yet instead of using it to explain to her my own situation, I bitched out. Buried how I could relate behind a brick wall and smug grin.

Jaye’s toes wiggle around unknowingly brushing my cock, calling it back to life once more.

If my dick could get the memo that this woman’s every single movement is not a summoning spell that would be fucking appreciated. Almost as much as I appreciate being welcomed to have an actual roof over my head. By someone who…wantsme around. Her words. Her. Fucking. Words. Pretty sure that’s what really stopped me from getting up and bailing sooner this morning. It wasn’t because of the weather or worry about the cops catching me…It was because in spite of what I told myself, I clutched onto that tiny bit of hope I was determined to throw out. Ihopedshe wanted to see me again, even if it was just to say goodbye. Ihopedthat she had enjoyed being around me prior to my conversational fails. And then hearing her vocalizeexactlywhat I was feeling was the last one-two combo I couldn’t handle. And the reason I said only one more night here wasn’t because Iwantto leave – fuck, why would I wanna leave someone so sweet – but because I need to. I need to get the fuck out before Jaye Jenkins becomes a causality of the shitstorm I call living.

I clear my throat, divert my gaze back to my book, and do my best to ignore the curled legs I wish I could rest a hand on.

Friendship may be possible but anything more…that’s just unfathomable even if I swear, she’s been flirting with me all day. I’m sure that’s just more of my being unsocial for too long bullshit. Can’t even distinguish the difference between the two. Post breakfast and her call in to work, we watched a few episodes of a cop drama called Lawless Lives – she started it over from the beginning so I wouldn’t be ‘lost’ – had lunch – haven’t had a grilled cheese that good since I had something called an Irish Grilled cheese during my last leave – and crashed back on this purple cushion of glory to read for a bit. Like I mentioned earlier, her reading lasted all of five minutes while mine on the other hand is being done in between longingly looking at her and trying to figure out just how in the fuck I got here. Got so…unexpectedly fortunate. No. Not luck. I don’t believe in that shit. Never have.

All of a sudden, a loud yawn escapes Jaye at the same time she rolls over onto her back. I expected fear to be the first emotion on her face considering the fact she’s not used to having company in her house; however, the first thing I see is relief.

Followed swiftly by excitement.

Fuckin’ hell, what’s going on with this woman? She can’t actually like me this much, can she?

“You’re still here,” she sweetly coos.

“I’m a man of my word. I told you I’d stay another night.”

“At leastanother night.”

“I didn’t saythose two words.”

“No, but I did.” Girlish giggles are followed by her tucking her hands behind her head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like that. Well, Ican,” she quickly corrects, “because I always do on this couch. It’s the only place I getdecentsleep, which is crazy when you consider the California King just eating up the middle of my bedroom, but I don’t know. This couch just…feels…better. Could be because it’s one of the only things in this house – besides all the books – that’s really mine.” Her pause isn’t long enough for me to ask questions. “Sorry to fall asleep during book time.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that, sweetheart. You needed the rest. I’m glad you took it.”

“Yes, butyouneeded me to explain how much Janet Evanovich’sOne for the Moneymade me feel like I could’ve been a kick ass bounty hunter in another life.”

Smiling is done absentmindedly. “Did Ineed that?”

“Of course you did,” Jaye laughs even louder, “andyou needed to hear about how you’re reading my original copy because I have a personalized copy Chris got me during one of his business trips locked away so that people can’t evenlookat it, although now that I bring it up, I’m not sure I don’t want people looking at it so much as I don’t really have a place to display it.”

My eyes cut around the enormous room we’re occupying prior to poking. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Bafflement instantly blasts itself in her expression. “Uh…no?”

“You live in mega mansion with four bedrooms and can’t find space to put up one of your favoritesignedbooks?”

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