eighteen
Three days later, Nya was in her apartment tossing croutons through her salad waiting for a knock to sound on the door. Tag had refused to speak to her for the first two days, but she’d called him this morning and he’d actually picked up the phone. She didn’t know what had changed, but he’d agreed to come over.
Archer was at Sizzle checking on progress for her. The workmen were in tearing the place apart and it made more sense for Archer with his intimidating stature and stare to go and chum along with the construction guys rather than her who’d been fobbed off with plenty of mollifications like, “Sure, darlin’,” and “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
She was sort of sick of hearing their placations and that was saying something, because Archer was the king of condescen
