Tina Leonard - Archer's Angels

“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.”

“I don’t want anything from her,” Archer said, turning to walk toward the Lonely Hearts Salon. “She has an attitude reminiscent of Tonk.”

“And we call Tonk dog-faced. Think it over, bro.”

“Clover’s not unattractive,” Archer said. He realized what Bandera had said. “And neither is Tonk!”

His brother laughed. “I pick the girl on the bar stool,” he said. “I like a lady who’s easy on the eyes.”

“Looks aren’t everything,” Archer said stubbornly.

“But they are the first ticket to my heart, followed by my stomach being fed, my muscles being admired, my laundry being done, and my sex—”

“That’s enough,” Archer interrupted, getting crosser by the moment. “Glandular responses will remain undiscussed.”

A window opened above them. “Archer!”

“What?” He wondered what his glasses-wearing newcomer wanted now.

“Where’s the best place in town for drinks and dancing?”

Archer blinked. “Two-Bits.”

“Thanks.” She shut the window.

Bandera slapped him heartily on the back. “And you were worried about her being lonely. Sad. Homesick. A tragic heroine in a black governess dress right out of Jane Eyre.”

Archer turned toward Delilah’s. “I can’t picture Clover dancing.” He didn’t want to, either.

“It’s the quiet ones who’ll surprise you.”

Archer shook his head. “I reckon.”

“Night’s still young,” Bandera said. “If the wild girls are going dancing, maybe we should provide some partners.”

“Now, that idea has some merit,” Archer said cheerfully. He’d be willing to bet Clover’s idea of dancing was standing by a plastic banana tree, watching everybody else shake a leg.

Finding out that she was an unwatered wallflower would make him feel a whole lot better.