Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“You’re right, but—hey!” I protest when I see he’s heading into my front door instead of going back to his house. “If you want beer, you won’t find it in there. Also, you’re way too comfortable inviting yourself in!”
He’s already gone, and I roll my eyes and follow him.
For the past couple of days, we’ve been building the greenhouse in my front patio area, and though Archer didn’t seem to be overstating his expertise, I’d vastly overestimated my own. It pains me to admit it, but book smart most definitely doesn’t translate to building stuff with my hands.
And to be fair…
I wouldn’t say Archer has been patient, exactly, but he hasn’t been as much of a jerk as he could have been.
Perhaps because he’s taken our joint project as an invitation to make himself perfectly at home in my home, helping himself to fridge contents, the bathroom, and my TV when his alma mater’s football game had been on.
“Hey. I mean it,” I say, following him inside. “You’re welcome to the wine, but I don’t have any—”
I skid to a halt, finding him leaning against my kitchen counter sipping a beer. “Where’d that come from?”
He nods toward the fridge. “Brought them over this morning. Lillian gave me a key a couple years ago.”
“I… what? Where was I?!”
He shrugs. “In the shower, I think.”
I stare at him. “We are so not close enough for that kind of neighborly relationship.”
Instead of replying he picks up a book off the counter: The Complete Astrology Guide for Beginners.
“But close enough that I’m ready to hear about this now,” he says, giving the book a little waggle before tossing it back down. The book is massively thick, as are all my astrology books, and makes a distinct thump.
I wrinkle my nose in hesitation, and Archer reaches back, opening the fridge and pulling out another beer. He pops the cap and slides it across the corner to me.
I glance at it, then at the clock. I don’t love beer. It’s only 1 p.m., and yet…
I shrug and take a sip. An experimental first indeed, but not an unpleasant one.
“So?” Archer thumps the astrology book. “What’s the story here? If I’m famous for being reclusive, you’re famous for being smart. And logical. In fact, I even found a clip of you denouncing this stuff.”
I take another sip of beer. “Your googling was awfully thorough.”
He shrugs and looks away.
“Mine was as well,” I say, leaning my elbows on the counter. “You may be a loner, but that’s only fueled the curiosity. And the rumors.”
He grunts and takes a sip of beer, not looking at me.
“For example,” I say, beginning to count on my fingers. “I know that you got your start rather modestly in charcoal, but recently have exploded onto the scene with a Tokyo series done in acrylics. Much fanfare, blah-blah-blah. But before you did the art thing, you went to law school. That’s an interesting bit. Oh, but not as interesting as your high-profile engagement to Willow Dunn, which was called off just days before the wedding.”
“For someone who’s supposed to be smart, you’re sure into celebrity gossip.”
“Aha!” I point at him. “So you admit you’re a celebrity.”
“Willow was the celebrity,” he says tersely. “I like to be left alone.”
“Then why did you want to marry an actress? Not exactly low profile.”
“I met her at fundraiser at the Getty when I was in LA. She was hot,” he adds after a moment.
“You proposed because she’s pretty? And why did you guys call it off?” I can’t help from asking. “Nobody seems to know why.”
“Not all details are meant for public consumption, Dr. Reed. You should know that better than anyone.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you figure?”
“Well. Someone’s put together a pretty thorough Wikipedia page on you, but it doesn’t say shit about…” He uses his thumb to gesture at the stack of astrology books on my counter.
“Yes, well,” I murmur, running a finger along the spine of Beyond the Zodiac. “I’m not sure my reputation can take another hit.”
“Another hit? What was the first?”
“Nova denied my tenure bid. Probably only a matter of time until that little tidbit makes it onto Wikipedia.”
Archer looks skeptical. “Is that interesting enough for Wikipedia?”
A surprised laugh slips out. “Most people offer condolences about my career going down the drain.”
He looks at me for a long minute, then glances again at the astrology stack. “So, what’s your horoscope have to do with all this?”
“I’m on sabbatical for a year. Not my idea. My best friend suggested I do a sort of Eat, Pray, Love thing. Basically quit my life and do something a little crazy. That’s a book about—”
“I’m familiar.”
I blink. “Really? Well. I needed a… reset, I guess. A break. Change. Whatever.”
His thumb scratches at the corner of the label on the beer bottle as he watches me, then he straightens and nods. “I get that.”