Nell automatically shook her head. “Archer’s never serious about anyone.”
“That’s not exactly what I asked.”
“It’s not serious.”
Delia didn’t look convinced, but at least she dropped it and picked up her spoon again, and together, the two of them polished off the rest of the hot fudge and ice cream.
When they left the diner, they went their separate ways. Delia presumably headed back to Vivian’s, where she occupied two rooms in what she lightly referred to as the West Wing.
Nell, though, headed out to look at another house for rent that had shown up the day before on the bulletin board at Ruby’s. After having looked at more than a dozen potential places in the past three weeks, she wasn’t holding out much hope.
Perhaps her lack of hope was the missing ingredient, though, because the small bungalow located not far from the Cozy Night was very nearly perfect. Oh, it needed a good scouring inside and out and the kitchen was ancient. But that still wasn’t a deterrent for Nell. It wasn’t as if she’d been gaining any new kitchen skills staying at the Cozy Night for the past month. The rental had two bedrooms, one bathroom that was slightly less ancient than the kitchen and an overgrown yard.
And it meant she could finally get the rest of her belongings out of the storage unit in Cheyenne.
She wrote a check covering the deposit and the first month’s rent right there on the spot. She called around to the contacts that she’d been making since coming to town until she had a landscaper who could come and clear the yard the following afternoon and a cleaning crew who could be there even sooner.
She felt so energized by her progress that she went back to the motel and told the kid at the front desk—they were ever changing so Nell had never managed to learn any of their names—that she’d be checking out in the morning.
Then she filled the tank in her car with gas and, armed with an enormous cup of hot coffee in her console, she set off for the storage rental place in Cheyenne. By the time she rolled into town several hours later, her stomach was growling again and she stopped at a fast-food place for some dinner not far from Archer’s house.
It had been only a couple of months since she’d woken up in his guest room bed there, but it felt like it was so much longer.
With both her stomach and her coffee mug refilled and knowing he was in Denver anyway, she turned down his block and trolled down his neat and tidy street. It was such a wildly different setting than his house outside Weaver and she wondered how much more different his apartment in Denver would be.
She’d never before considered that she might actually want to see it one day.
It was still light enough outside not to need the streetlights but inside houses up and down the street, lamps were beginning to come on in front windows and porch lights were beginning to come on by front doors. His house was no different. Golden light gleamed from the fixtures on either side of his front door, spilling down over the brick steps, and she smiled slightly because it was such a homey, charming sight.
When she saw a shadow move across one of the mullioned windows, she thought she’d imagined it. But when it happened again, she pulled right over to the curb and parked. She grabbed her cell phone and swiped the screen. Pressing the listing for her most recent calls, she heard clicks and a faint whir before it rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
His deep voice answered, and her stomach dipped, but it was just his voice mail message. “This is Archer Templeton, attorney at law. Leave a message. If it’s an emergency, contact my office at—”
She peered through her windshield at his house, watching for another glimpse of someone inside while his voice reeled off his business numbers. “It’s Nell,” she said after the beep. “I’m in Cheyenne to empty my storage unit. Do you have someone staying at your house?” Then she hung up.
Crime wasn’t exactly rampant in the town. But Archer, despite porch lights, was often gone for long stretches at a time. She waited for him to call for an interminable ten minutes, and when he didn’t, she just exhaled and turned off the car engine. She crossed the street and skipped up the steps and walked across the porch, peering in through the front window.
The curtain panels on the inside were sheerer than she expected and easily afforded her a view of the woman standing near the fireplace.
Judge Taylor Potts.
And the man sprawled comfortably in his overstuffed chair. She could even see the cell phone clasped lightly in Archer’s broad, long-fingered hand.
She jerked back but not quickly enough to miss Taylor moving across the room to sit on the arm of his chair. To close her hand over his arm and lean closer to him.
Nell turned on her heel and darted down the steps. She raced across the yard. The street. Practically threw herself into her front seat and fumbled the car key into the ignition.
A moment later she roared down the block and around the corner, barely having the presence of mind to slow down because she was in a residential zone and the last thing she needed was a speeding ticket.
He’d told her he was still in Denver. That he had court all day.
Her fingers strangled her steering wheel as she drove to the storage unit. She should have known better. The man didn’t make promises. He just kept moving on, routinely changing one woman on his arm with the next.
Never leaving anyone behind with hard feelings.
Except her.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’ve been leaving you messages
