Page 31 of Archer

Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed. “Now let’s finish dinner before it gets cold.”

We sat back down, but the easy atmosphere from before was gone. Harper pushed food around her plate, barely eating. I struggled too.

“Tell me about your music,” I said, trying to redirect her thoughts.

She looked up, surprised. “What do you want to know?”

“Why country? Why this path?”

A small smile graced her face. “I grew up on country music. Gram taught me all the singers and songwriters of her generation, and the ones her mama raised her on. Dolly Parton, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline. She’d play their records on an old turntable and we’d sing along.”

“You two were really close?”

“Yeah. My mom became obsessed with advocating for my career. She meant well, but sometimes I think she forgot I was also just a kid. She died a few years ago. Car accident.”

I set down my fork. “I’m sorry.”

Harper shrugged, but the gesture didn’t hide the old hurt in her eyes. “Gram stepped in and shaped her life around making sure I knew I was loved and cherished. She was everything to me.”

My chest tightened with her story. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was. They both were. I’ve achieved my dream in the industry thanks to the role they each played. Even if my career never gets any bigger, I’ve already done the impossible, and I owe it to them.”

She glanced around the cottage. “I thought being here would help me feel close to Gram again. Help me write. Keep me safe.”

“Instead, your nightmare followed you.”

“Take the good with the bad, I guess.”

We cleaned up dinner together, falling into an easy rhythm despite the lingering tension. Harper washed, I dried. She told me about her first gig at the Bluebird Café and how terrified she’d been. I told her about the first time I’d been in actual combat, how different it was from training.

By the time we finished, the sun was setting and we were better acquainted.

I did a perimeter check while Harper tried to work on her music. But when I came back inside, she was staring at the guitar without playing.

“No luck?” I asked.

“No.” She set the guitar aside. “I can’t concentrate.”

I shifted, wanting to make her comfortable, but unsure how. “Want to go outside? Watch the sunset?”

She looked at me as if I’d suggested something radical. “You want to watch the sunset?”

“Happens every day. Might as well enjoy it.”

A look of relief crossed her face. “Okay.”

She put on her coat and we went onto the deck as the sky turned shades of orange and pink over the ocean. January was chilly, but peaceful at the ocean. Just us, the gulls and waves.

“There’s nothing like the sunsets here,” she said, looking up at me with genuine pleasure.

I thought of the warning Knox had given me. Did she look at me some kind of way like he’d said?

Did I want her to?

I shoved the thoughts aside and refocused on the moment and job at hand.