Archer's Angels Read online

  “You see,” he told Bandera, “Clover would stick out in here like a barn owl amongst peacocks. Let’s go check with Delilah.” He tipped his hat to the babelicious door greeter and headed out.

  “Man alive, she was hot as a smokin’ pistol!” Bandera exclaimed. “Have you noticed that Marvella’s girls just keep getting hotter and hotter? Whooee! I feel like someone just lit a firecracker in my jeans!”

  “She was all right,” Archer said. “Actually, she reminded me of Cissy. And you know, I love our sister-in-law, but remember, I was stuck in a truck once upon a time with her and Hannah, and I’m telling you, girls who look like that are misfired pistols in the wrong hands.”

  “My hands would be just right,” Bandera said. “Oh, how quickly I would volunteer to be her bar stool the next time she needed a place to park that fanny!”

  “Dunce,” Archer told him. “Get a grip. We’ve got a tourist to rescue.” They went across the street to Delilah’s, quietly tapping on the door because of the hour. The Jeffersons had their own keys for the back door, where they could go up the stairs and commandeer a special set of rooms Delilah kept just for them. But right now, Archer was hoping for intel on his lost farm girl.

  “Why are you so worried about her, anyway?” Bandera demanded. “Let’s go back over to Marvella’s and spark a fire with the damsels.”

  “No hunting for trouble tonight,” Archer stated. “If we bring home any more bad news related to Marvella, Mason’ll probably run us out of town for good. He still can’t believe Last got one of her girls pregnant while Mason was gone.”

  They peered through the curtained window of the front door. Only a quaint lamp burned on the table. “Guess she and Jerry called it an early night,” Archer said. “Darn.”

  “That means your little friend isn’t here. Delilah would be bustling around in the kitchen, making her welcome.”

  “That’s true.” Now Archer was extremely worried.

  “Could I be mistaken?” Bandera asked. “Perhaps I didn’t see her go into Marvella’s, and in fact, she has left town.”

  Archer wheeled to look at him. “Are you mistaken?”

  “If I say I am, can we go hit on Miss February over at Marvella’s?”

  “No!” Archer was good and put out with his brother. “How can you think of women at a time like this! There is a poor girl somewhere in this town who has no place to go, and all you can think about is your…you know.” He wished it didn’t bother him so much that Clover might have left town. Certainly he had not been very friendly. “Just so long as she didn’t go to Marvella’s, I really don’t care where she went. That’s all I’m doing, trying to keep an innocent traveler from getting fleeced.”

  “That’s right.” Bandera nodded. “That’s all that’s on your mind. And I’m not thinking about that beauty on the bar stool at all!”

  CLOVE COULDN’T BELIEVE that Archer had left without recognizing her. It was so exciting! She felt like a different girl.

  She was completely new.

  The thought made her bite her lip. Clove felt her puffed-up big hair and her mascaraed lashes. The look really wasn’t her, though it was fun. But in a while, her eyes would start to itch from the makeup, and anyway, her scalp felt tight from all the hair spray lacquered onto her head.

  She was glad he didn’t know she’d run counter to his suggestion and come to Marvella’s.

  One hour had passed, the allotted time Marvella had asked her to sit out front. Longing for a shower, Clove went upstairs to her new room, closing the door. The feminine side of her wished Archer had noticed the big change in her—and the practical side remembered that he’d noticed her less as Cinderella than he had when she’d been Plain Jane.

  It was time to let the inner stuntwoman in her throw caution to the wind.

  Surely it couldn’t be that hard to attract a man.

  “Yoo-hoo!” a voice called.

  “Come in!”

  One of the stylists walked into her room, leaving a small bottle on the table. “Marvella wants you to have some of her delicious home brew as a welcome gift.”

  “That’s so kind. She’s already done too much.”

  The stylist smiled. “She must like you.”

  Clove looked at the bottle. “Hey, a cowboy came in here tonight. His name was Archer Jefferson. Do you know him?”

  “Know him?” The woman laughed. “We know all the Malfunction Junction boys. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “If you’re thinking he’s cute, so does every woman in this place. But don’t spend too much time thinking about him. That one is impossible. All he cares about is his horse, ugly dog that she is.”

  Clove frowned. Tonk was beautiful in her own way.

  “But if you just can’t live without him, you’ll probably find him at Delilah’s. I’d head up the back stairs if I were you, because Delilah won’t welcome you if she knows you’re staying here. Tap on the door, say ‘room service,’ and see if he’s hungry.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Clove murmured.

  “Trust me, it’s not. Good luck, though.” She laughed again and left the room.

  Clove stared at the closed door, then at the bottle on the nightstand. The stylist’s words ran through her brain, a mockery of her intentions.

  One thing was for certain, she wasn’t going to use alcohol to lure a man into her bed. And right now, she was going to shower all this hair spray and makeup off her body. She felt like a doll.

  And then, if a shower hadn’t washed all the thoughts of Archer out of her mind, surely it wouldn’t hurt to go across the street and take a look at the back door the stylist had mentioned.

  Not that she would go in, of course. But curiosity had her, and she wouldn’t be a stuntwoman if she wasn’t up for a dare.

  Chapter Three

  Archer couldn’t sleep, though Bandera was sawing logs like a frontiersman. “I just need to walk it off,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve got nerves before the big show, and I’m worrying about Clover so I don’t worry about Tonk.”

  Neither of the females on his mind obeyed worth a flip, not that he would admit that to Bandera. One thing he did know about Clover—if she was the sort of girl who understood that a man knew best, she’d be under Delilah’s roof right now.

  Where he could keep an eye on her.

  So he took a few laps up and down the main street of Lonely Hearts Station, his gaze darting, ever-watchful, for the traveler who knew about blue hooves. Tonk sure had seemed to like Clover, which was strange, because Tonk didn’t like anyone, a fact his brothers were quick to point out, and which Archer was quicker to deny.

  He was certain Tonk held affection for him somewhere in her equine heart. She just didn’t know how to show it. He’d been told by plenty of women that he didn’t know how to show affection to a woman, either, so that made he and Tonk a perfect pair.

  Archer was so busy ruminating on the canny females in his life that he nearly got too close to the one peering in the back window of the Lonely Hearts Salon. It was Clover!

  She was spying, the little peeping Tomasina.

  Or maybe she didn’t know how to get in. Perhaps she’d decided to take his advice.

  He watched her carefully turn the doorknob and open the door. She appeared to think about something for a second, then closed the door. She opened the door, and closed it again.

  Spying. Which meant, he knew with certain chauvinism, that she wanted to spy on him.

  He grinned, knowing exactly what to do with her now. Sneaking up on her, he reached out and grabbed her around the waist. “Gotcha!” he roared.

  She screamed, kicking back with her feet—just like Tonk, dammit—giving him a crotch-kick that left him clutching for air. She pounced, knocking him back onto the ground. Like a helpless puppy he lay there, focusing on the stars in the black-velour sky above, wondering if he was ever going to be able to draw breath again.

  “Archer!” she cried. “I didn’t know
it was you!”

  Groaning, he rolled onto his side.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Here, lie on your back so you can get your breath.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said on a strangled moan. “Don’t move an injured man.”

  “I didn’t hurt your back,” she said reasonably. “Or your neck. You’ll be all right in a minute. You just need to relax. Relax, Archer.”

  “Lucky for me I didn’t want kids,” Archer said, “because you just kicked in any chance I ever had of dispatching ’em.”

  “What?”

  He rolled his eyes at her tone. Maybe he shouldn’t speak so in front of a lady, but she needed to quit trying to roll him over. He wanted to curl up and think about tomorrow—surely the pain would be gone by then. “You just made me the first Jefferson male who won’t need birth control.”

  “Oh, no. Archer, don’t even joke about that! You sit right up, catch your breath and…maybe we should take your jeans off. Would that help? I read somewhere that jeans cut down on a man’s, uh, sperm motility, due to the warmth and constricting nature of the fabric.”

  She was crazy, he’d admit that. “Thank you, I’m fine. Though I didn’t want to end my child-giving days quite that way, I’ll admit one swift kick was probably as good as paying some doctor quack to do it.”

  “You want to have as many children as you possibly can!”

  “Don’t think I will now that my factory’s gone crooked. Help me to my feet.”

  “I will not. You lie there while I go for help.”

  “No!” That was the last thing he wanted—everyone in Lonely Hearts and Union Junction knowing that a woman had disarmed him. “Hey, where’d you go tonight?”

  “Shh,” she told him. “Don’t talk. Just think happy thoughts. Happy, healing, healthy thoughts. Big, Jefferson-male-testosterone thoughts.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my testosterone,” he grumbled, “just the delivery system. Move, okay? You’re treating me like an invalid.”

  “I do think you should see a doctor. I kicked you with all my might. I thought you were some kind of crazed freak when you grabbed me.”

  “You were spying,” he said, “I had a right to throw a little excitement into the mix.”

  “Well, you certainly did that.”

  Archer painfully gained his feet. “You have a very unusual accent that I can’t place. And sometime, when there aren’t birds singing in my head, you’ll have to tell me how you learned to toss a big man like that. But right now, I’m moving toward my warm bed.”

  “I would say I’m sorry, but you really shouldn’t have startled me.”

  “To think I worried about you, too,” Archer said, not about to admit he’d been out looking for her. “Did you want something specific when you were peering in the window, or has maiming me satisfied you temporarily?” He sighed dramatically. “I need a whiskey.”

  “Marvella gave me some of her special concoction,” Clover offered.

  Archer suddenly towered above her. “Marvella!”

  She nodded.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to go over there?”

  Clover bristled right before his eyes, just like Tonk before she threw a low-down, scurvy hoof. “You can’t order me around, Archer Jefferson. I do as I please. I can take care of myself.”

  “So I see,” he said grumpily. “Now, you go over to Marvella’s, get your things and come right over here with me. This side of the street is where girls like you belong.”

  “Girls like me?” She put her hands on her hips. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

  “Innocent. Travel-weary. Unused to the ways of the world. You came here without a room or any reservations of any kind. Clearly, you didn’t have a plan. That’s how nice girls end up on the wrong side of the street. Listen, I know what I’m talking about. Marvella preys on girls who have no plan.”

  She stared at him. “She said the Jeffersons preyed on girls without plans. In fact, she said you Jeffersons had impregnated one recently.”

  “We impregnated? No, believe me, that’s not exactly what happened.”

  “But it’s close to true?”

  He took a second look at Clover. She sounded so hopeful, as if she wanted to believe he was some kind of big bad wolf. Maybe he was, but not for this girl. She was not the type of girl he’d jump on in the woods as she traveled to grandma’s. He liked his women spicy. If he had a dream woman, she’d be just the opposite of this lady. “You’re very safe with me,” he assured her.

  He thought she looked doubtful, or maybe puzzled, so he realized this point needed to be outlined in teacher-red ink. “Do I look like the kind of man who feasts on innocent girls who can’t see very well?”

  Just then Bandera opened the door, peering out at them. “What’s happening, friends?”

  “Nothing. What are you doing up?”

  “Can’t sleep. Keep waking up, thinking about that lady on the bar stool. Think I’ll go try to round her up.”

  Archer thought Clover gasped, but when he glanced at her, she was looking at her feet. Maybe a bug had crawled across her shoe. He figured her for the kind of girl who spooked easily. “Good luck,” he said to Bandera.

  “Whatever,” Bandera answered. “I’m off.”

  His brother loped away. Archer met Clover’s gaze. “So, do I look like the kind of man who preys on perfectly nice girls with strange accents? I’m trying to help you, traveler.”

  Clover didn’t reply for a moment. Then she sighed. “Hope you feel better soon. I’m going to bed.”

  He watched as she walked away. What had that been about?

  “Hey,” he said, catching up to her in the middle of the street. Turning her to where he could see her in the bright lights from Marvella’s, he said, “Don’t go off mad. You kicked me, remember?”

  “Yes. But harder than I meant to. Clearly I put you out of commission.”

  “Well, for a moment or two, but…” He looked at her, trying to see her eyes behind the thick lenses. “I mean, you didn’t damage me for life.”

  She shook her head. “It’s probably like a party balloon. Once popped, the air is gone.”

  He straightened. “Sister, there is nothing wrong with my party balloon! I am the life of the party when I want to be. That’s when I want to be, and I just don’t want to be. With…you know…you.”

  She looked at him. “Why not?”

  He wasn’t sure he heard her right. “Are you propositioning me?”

  “I might be.” She put her hands on her hips and a mulish expression on her face. “Scared?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s just that you don’t strike me as the kind of girl for casual charades.”

  “Well, maybe I am.” She turned toward Marvella’s. “You’re not allowed to come in here unless you’re a client,” she said. “Good night, Archer.”

  There was definitely air in his party balloon, Archer realized. He liked her straightforward approach. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let’s talk about this some more.”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I’ve discovered you’re full of nothing but hot air, and I want a man who can have fun and then go home after the party is over.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? I want a woman who goes home after the party?”

  “If you had known your lines,” Clover said, “you’d be getting a party favor right now. Good night.”

  She closed the door in his face.

  His jaw dropped.

  That crazy girl! She’d kicked him. She’d made his wounded soldier rise to the battlefield with all that talk about sex—sex with her—and then she’d shut the door on him.

  The only door in town he shouldn’t touch.

  “DAMN,” BANDERA SAID a couple seconds later, walking out the door to find his brother still standing there, hands on hips.

  “Damn is right,” Archer agreed. “What did Clover do once she went inside?”

  Bandera laughed.
“She went upstairs. You don’t have the hots for her, do you?”

  “No. I just hate to see a nice girl like her staying in a place like this.”

  Bandera shrugged. “She seems pretty confident.”

  “She does not! She needs direction.”

  “Dude, are you ever ignorant.” Bandera stared up at the windows. “Never tell a woman she needs direction. You’ll get a swift kick.”

  “I know.” Archer sighed. “I already did, and strangely, I found it compelling.”

  “I can’t worry about your love life.”

  “It has nothing to do with love. Merely concern for a stranger in town.”

  “That’s what I’m concerned about, too.”

  “Your bar-stool lady not interested?”

  “Not available,” Bandera said. “She’s not cutting hair or taking customers, according to the receptionist.”

  “Interesting. And too bad, as well.”

  “Yeah. Not too many women take a man’s breath away like that one.”

  “Yeah.” But Archer was still worrying about Clover. “That crazy Clover girl doesn’t belong here. She should be at Delilah’s.”

  “You may have figured her wrong,” Bandera said. “She might be the kind of lady who can take care of herself.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Okay, I should git then.”

  Clover’s exit to Marvella’s still didn’t seem right.

  “Well, come on, then,” Bandera said impatiently. “We don’t need to hold down the porch all night.”

  “I know.” Archer frowned.

  “Look, if she puts the sizzle on your griddle, then go inside and talk to her. But if you’re just being misguided and friendly, forget about it and let’s get some shut-eye. She’s fine.”

  “I think she wanted to sleep with me,” Archer said.

  Bandera laughed. “That shy, quiet girl? Nah. Besides, she’s not your type.”

  “I changed my mind. I don’t have a type,” Archer said. “I have many types, as long as they don’t come looking for a ring.”

  “You misread her,” Bandera said. “Remember how we used to say that there were girls for fun, and girls for nun? That one would give you none, bro.”