He examines my face for a few long seconds, and then one corner of his mouth tips up. “Okay.”
I’ve upgraded from dirty jeans and boots to clean jeans and ballet flats.
“What are you doing?” Jacob leans in the doorway, brows furrowed, arms crossed over his chest.
Since I basically live in work clothes and pajamas, getting dressed up in anything other than dirty jeans or sweats is akin to wearing a ball gown.
I lean back from the mirror over my dresser and shove the mascara wand back into the container. “Nothing.”
“Are you going out? I thought I smelled food.”
“I’m not going out. And yes, there’s food. I’m making roast chicken.” I frown at him in the mirror. “Are you going to be home for dinner?” Taylor left, so I thought he’d be neck deep in a bottle of something or other. He’s not slurring his speech, but his eyes are a bit glassy, his skin tinged with pink. Ugh. One of those nights where he’s been drinking just enough to pretend at sobriety. We’ll see how long it lasts.
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t—?”
A knock downstairs cuts him off.
His scowl deepens. “Are you expecting someone?”
I bustle past him. “Just Archer. We needed his cabin for the guests that came earlier today. So he’s staying here tonight.”
He chuckles and trails behind me. “Is that why you’re getting all dressed up? Did you . . . did you cook for him?”
“I cooked for all of us.”
We pound down the stairs. “Do you like this guy? I thought Taylor was messing with you, but she was right. You like him.” He makes kissy noises.
I stop in the living room and turn to face him. “What are you, a child?”
He rubs the back of his head, a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorta.”
I resist the urge to check my hair one more time in the mirror above the fireplace. “Will you clean your tools off the dining table?”
Jacob makes a face. “Are you trying to impress him or something?”
“No, I just want to have somewhere to sit that isn’t the couch. Is that too much to ask? That we eat like a normal family?”
“It’s the normal part that’s weird.” But he starts picking up his stuff despite the grumbling.
I head to the side door, where Archer’s frame is visible through the beveled glass. My stomach flutters, and I take a few breaths to calm my racing heart. I saw him a couple hours ago. Why am I nervous?
I open the door.
Archer stands on the stoop, holding a duffle bag, still wearing the jeans and sweater from earlier.
“Hey. Can I use your shower? Sorry, but I didn’t want the one in my cabin to be recently used when the other guests arrived.”
I step back to let him in. “Oh, of course. I’ll show you the room and where everything is.”
The flutters in my stomach morph into vigorous flaps of activity.
Calm down. It’s no big deal.
I point out the bathroom and where the towels are stored then take him to his room at the end of the hall. He’s staying in Mindy and Taylor’s old bedroom. The house has five bedrooms upstairs: the master; Mindy and Taylor’s old room; Piper’s bedroom, which I moved into when I moved back home; Jacob’s room; and my childhood bedroom, which Aria had taken over when I moved out. We tend to avoid Dad’s and Aria’s old spaces.
“Are you hungry?” I hover in the doorway.
He looks over my outfit with a confused smile. “Are you offering to poison me?” He tosses his duffle bag onto the bed and then bends over to unlace his shoes.