Page 36 of A Texas Hero

“I know, I get it.” Zoey held up her palms in an “I give up” gesture. “Fine.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t the least bit mad about it.

* * *

The next day, Zoey went for a morning swim before work. It was Sunday and not part of her regular routine, but the exercise had started to help with some of the stress she felt surrounding the party. She could meditate in the water. Something was not right about all of this. She could feel it in her bones.

Archer was keeping something from her, and she had no idea if it had something to do with her or if he had a secret of his own. But she hadn’t heard from Scott again after his last direct message, and Scott had never been a violent person. She couldn’t shake the thought that he wasn’t the problem, that there was something else, and she wished she could get to the bottom of it.

She dived under the water, hoping to clear her head, but when she came up at the other end, she saw the boots on the ledge. Her gaze slid up to look at the man who belonged to those boots. Archer, standing by to take her to work, at the ready.

“Only in South Texas can you swim outside in September,” he said.

“And Florida and California,” she reminded him.

“This is not your usual day for a swim. You’re off schedule.”

She pushed back and smiled. “Why don’t you join me? It’s good exercise.”

He held up a hand. “No, I’m on duty.”

“I guess you’re always on duty,” she said, doing the backstroke.

“When I’m with you, yes.”

“It’s like you don’t have any downtime.”

“When we’re on assignments, we usually don’t get much of that. Of course, with more serious situations, there is a team and we take shifts. Eight- to twelve-hour shifts, then time off.”

“So, this is just one very long shift to you, is it?”

“Well, yes.” He took a seat on one of her wicker chairs. “I have some good news and some bad news about your guest list.”

She’d been wondering about the security checks but didn’t want to sound like she was digging for dirt on her friends. Archer would tell her if something was important enough to pass on.

“And? Which one of my friends is wanted by the law?”

“No one,” Archer said, tipping back on his heels. “A few of them have trouble obeying the speed limit, a few divorces, nothing unusual or remotely dangerous.”

“I’m glad.”

“But people are unpredictable. I still want you to consider canceling the party.”

“No,” she said, and swam away.

Zoey completed one last lap and then climbed out of the pool. Today, she’d taken pity on Archer—or given up on flirting—and worn her one-piece racer back suit that revealed nothing but a lot of leg. When she reached for her cover-up, she caught him purposefully not looking in her direction. His aviator shades were on, and he had a scowl firmly planted on his face. She toweled off, then sat on the chair across from his.

“How did you luck into this assignment? Are you the rookie? Or do you all draw straws to take the worst jobs?”

Archer didn’t answer, but instead turned to her and lowered his shades to peer at her over them. “What do you think?”

“Oh, my God, you’re being punished, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think you’re the worst job?”

“We’re talking about Scott here! I mean the lowest level threat, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, true. But that’s not the only way assignments are measured. There are other factors, like location and the type of client. Some are difficult and unpleasant. You’re by far the best client. I was lucky to get this assignment.”