The more I keep glancing out the window at the guy, the more familiar he’s starting to look. I know I’ve seen him somewhere before. After thirty minutes my curiosity gets the better of me and I call in the license plate on the insanely expensive sports car that’s parked at the curb.
What I get back from the dispatcher is a surprising to say the least. The car belongs to Archer Clarke, billionaire hotel mogul. I knew I had seen him before. His face is occasionally splashed across newspapers and magazines. It’s usually business related. He doesn’t appear to be one of those rich pricks that’s always into trouble with drugs, booze, and women. What the fuck is he doing sitting in a suit that looks like it’s been slept in, on my neighbors’ porch?
I’m just serving Oliver his grilled cheese sandwich—on that healthy bread he hates but I insist on—along with carrots and a sliced apple when I hear car doors slamming outside. I crane my neck to get a better look outside and see Bianca with her short, dark-haired roommate walking up the driveway. When they see Archer Clarke they both freeze and then take up defensive stances. I can’t really make out what they’re saying, I’d have to actually open the window for that. So this isn’t really spying, not if I can’t hear anything. I’m just making sure my neighbors are okay, especially since they both look rather annoyed at his appearance on their porch.
Archer Clarke, billionaire businessman, looks like he’s about to get on his knees and do some begging. Very interesting. A few seconds later the girls usher him inside the house and I can’t deny that my curiosity is killing me. I hope he’s not after Bianca. I mean, I get it. She’s the kind of tall, curvy, gorgeous woman that any man would be happy to have on his arm… but I saw her first. At least I think I did.
God, she’s making me act like a mental patient.
Just as we’re finishing lunch, I hear the door to Bianca’s house close and watch Clarke hurry to his fancy car and take off, tires peeling on his way down the street.
“Hey Oliver, do you want to go give Bianca the paper you got her?”
“Yeah!” He answers, jumping down from his chair and going to grab the sketchpad sitting on the coffee table. We cut across the lawn and before you know it, I’m knocking at the front door with Oliver at my side.
It’s only a few moments before Bianca yanks open the door.
“Archer, I swear we told you—oh! Hey Oliver.” She gives my nephew a big warm smile and then turns to me, smile gone. “Detective Di—Carson.”
I raise my brow. I wonder what she was about to call me. Maybe it’s best I don’t find out especially since she’s blushing profusely at almost getting caught.
“We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t say she’s waiting for Clarke to come back.
“Not at all.” The three of us stand there staring awkwardly at each other before she finally gives in and invites us inside.
We walk through the entryway and move into the living room that’s just like ours. I guess the houses on this street have the same layout. I don’t see her roommate anywhere and figure she must be in one of the back rooms.
Instead of immediately giving her the sketchpad like I should, my mouth runs away from me. “Was that Archer Clarke sitting on your porch?”
“Oh, you saw that, huh?” She’s giving me a look like she knows I was watching through the window and I can feel my cheeks start to redden. I can’t be fucking blushing, I’m a grown man. I refuse.
“Well, he’d been hanging around for a while. I wanted to keep an eye on him, I wasn’t sure what he was doing here. You never can tell about people.” That’s it, my interest at him sprawled out on her porch waiting for her is purely professional. I was doing the protect part of protect and serve.
She gives me a look like she knows I’m full of shit, then shrugs it off. “He’s my roommate Hollie’s boss… or boyfriend. Or I guess maybe both. Well, both if she ever forgives him. Now, what can I help you two gentlemen with?”
I don’t even try to untangle her explanation. All I got out of it was that he wasn’t here for her and that makes me want to smile like a buffoon.
“Go ahead, Oliver.” I gently place my hand on his back encouraging him to step forward. He walks over to her,sketchpad in hand, then shoves it out, nearly whacking her with it in the knees.
“What’s this?” she asks, crouching down to get on his level.
“Uncle Carson and I got you a new sketchpad since I took your other one.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she says looking between me and Oliver.
“I picked it out all by myself,” Oliver interjects. He’s so proud I can practically see his chest swell.
Bianca gives him a smile. “Well, it’s a very nice sketchpad, Oliver. You have excellent taste, but I was happy to give you the other one, you really didn’t need to do this.”
“We wanted to,” I say while rubbing the back of my neck. “It was really kind of you to give it to him. I hadn’t realized we were missing art supplies. He’s actually been going through the pad you gave him like a madman. It’s filled with drawings now and you were right, he does seem to be really good. Not that I know anything about art, but he draws better than I ever could. I know you mentioned art classes so I was hoping that maybe you would have an idea of where I could sign him up for some. Like I said, I know nothing about art, but you seem to know a lot about it, or at least some. Well, more than me. Again, that wouldn’t be hard.”Stop. Talking. Idiot.
Bianca is staring at me with wide eyes probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me and my rambling word vomit. Even Oliver is looking at me curiously. I’m not normally a huge talker.
Finally, she takes pity on me and breaks the silence. “Uh, yeah. Of course, I can recommend some classes. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right back.”
I move deeper into the room and sit down on the couch while Oliver crawls up beside me. I try not to watch her ass asit disappears down the hallway, I really do, but it’s no use. The sway of her hips is hypnotizing.
It’s only about a minute before she returns, jotting something down on a small notepad. “It really depends on your finances and how intense you want the classes to be. The Y has some classes that are pretty inexpensive, but I feel like they’re more exploratory than instructive. There are some more expensive ones with teachers downtown that are good, but I would probably recommend the program for kids out of Branson College. It’s taught by art students and it’s got a good balance of teaching style and technique. It just depends on what you’re interested in.” She tears off the paper she was writing on and hands it over to me. I notice with a bit of irritation that she’s careful to keep her fingers from touching my own.