Page 6 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

Chapter Three

Gideon

T he final pause stumped me. Archer had been striding toward his property when he stopped, pivoted, and stared at my old house for what felt like forever. Had my unwanted guest spotted me? No. Moments later, the man shrugged and then swung back to continue his journey to his new home.

A chainsaw had started up about fifteen minutes ago and that, combined with the sounds of construction, guaranteed I wouldn’t have any peace today. Just as I hadn’t—except for some Sundays—in the past two months.

My injury left me sensitive to noise, light, and potent scents. The doctors couldn’t provide an adequate explanation, and Leo, my asshole ex-husband, had been skeptical as well.

For a doctor, he didn’t always exude empathy. Or perhaps that attitude was only toward his husband .

I would’ve laid easy money that Leo’s patients were treated differently. Except perhaps the addicts. Leo had little patience for them either.

My back ached. Sleeping on the sofa had been an asinine idea, but leaving the thing to the taller Archer would’ve kept me awake all night worrying. At least I’d slept. Overslept, in fact. Finding my guest cooking breakfast had been a shock.

Archer didn’t seem the type to stoop to domestic duties. His hands were smooth and, if I didn’t miss the mark, soft. The nails were trimmed, and despite the storm, he appeared well-groomed. Put together.

Expensive.

And a divorce lawyer to boot.

I winced. Not all divorce lawyers were bad. Well, actually, I didn’t have experience except my own, and that’d been a disaster. My lawyer had been very expensive and never seemed focused. Several times he even forgot my name.

Leo’s lawyer had been smart, laser-focused, and out for all she could get for her client.

I hadn’t stood a chance. Once she raked me over the coals about my past, I’d given up.

Signed over custody of the kids and accepted I wouldn’t get spousal support.

The only saving grace was I wasn’t expected to pay child support.

Not that I would’ve been able. If only my circumstances were different…

But they weren’t. I scrimped and saved every penny for the pathetic Christmas presents for the kids and then eyed my pantry, trying to figure out how to make the food last until the next disability payment.

Feeding Archer two meals would put a dent in the budget, but nothing to be done about that.

I hadn’t hesitated. Wouldn’t again in the future.

Lucky, tired of being held back, tugged forward .

To prevent further injury to myself, I followed my dog into the clearing by the front of the house. I hadn’t spotted significant damage on my property—for which I was grateful.

A lot fewer leaves graced the trees, though, so some serious raking was in order. Fortunately, my grandparents had stuck to mostly evergreens, so the leaves weren’t as plentiful as they might’ve been otherwise.

Still, the anticipation of the pain was almost enough to have me diving back into bed and staying there for a month.

Speaking of bed, I had one to change. Sheets to wash, dishes to clean—a house to put back to rights.

As we neared the house, I glanced over my shoulder at the property to the north of mine.

I couldn’t see it through the trees, but its presence loomed large over me.

And now I knew. Knew the neighbor. The man whom I’d never forget.

The man whose existence would cause unrest in my life.

I’d always wonder whether Archer was there or in the city. Entertaining guests or there alone.

Hell, I hadn’t even asked the man if he was married. No ring meant nothing these days.

Checking him out?

Shut up.

I’d been observing—nothing more and nothing less. Had there been a ring, I’d have inquired. Assured myself no one else was in danger.

Bullshit.

Okay, I’d have asked myself a dozen questions. Happy marriage? Faithful spouse? Did she work or did his vast wealth allow her to live in luxury? How long had they been together?

I fingered the spot where my ring had been.

Seventeen years. I’d been married almost as long as I’d been single.

At eighteen, just after high school graduation, we’d tied the knot.

Since same-sex marriage was legalized in Canada by the time we graduated, we didn’t hesitate.

We always carried hefty insurance policies to ensure the other was cared for should something happen.

If I’d died in the accident, instead of being badly injured, Leo and the kids would’ve had a huge settlement.

Enough to pay off the student loans, the mortgage, tuition for the kids, and some left over.

Instead, we’d all been left with nothing except my meager disability pension.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I still had life insurance.

Only if Leo kept up the payments, since I was unable.

Something to consider. If something happened to me—

No.

Don’t think like that.

The kids need you. Even if the virtual visits are limited, they need you. They need to know you’re out there and you love them. They need to know you’ll step up to the plate if something happens to their other father.

Something to cling to. My entire reason for being was Melodie and Trevor. They were the bright shining lights in my dismal and fog-filled world.

I unclipped Lucky and put him in a sit/stay before entering the house. My pooch glanced over to Archer’s property, but I clicked my tongue to draw the dog’s attention. We held gazes until I finally nodded.

He tore into the house then made a beeline for his water bowl and lapped it up.

I refilled it and he drank about half of that before nudging his food bowl.

“Oh no, you don’t. He gave you more than enough food this morning. You’re not hard done by.”

He gave me a baleful look .

I pointed to the living room.

He slunk to his bed.

Only then did I take a good look around the kitchen.

The plates were gone, and the pan sat on the drying rack.

Finally, my gaze settled on the paper with the bills sticking out from beneath them. I snatched up the paper.

Thank you for your hospitality. If you require more funds, please let me know.

I nearly scrunched up the note but stopped from doing it as I eyed the pile of money. I laid aside the piece of paper and carefully counted out each bill. Then I did it again.

Almost a month’s worth of disability payments.

Oh, the things I could do with this money. The things I could buy for the kids. The repairs I could do to the house. The person I could hire to do the yard preparations for the winter.

Stop.

Of course you won’t keep the money. I’d taken in the wayward stranger and offered a bed for the night as I would’ve for anyone.

My grandparents had instilled gratitude and generosity in me.

Now, if the guy’d been a serial killer, things would’ve turned out differently.

But he hadn’t been. He’d just been a rich guy in a tough spot.

A rich guy who carried well over a thousand bucks in his wallet and likely saw it as chump change.

I stomped back over to the front hall and shoved my feet back into my boots.

Lucky leapt up, but I shook my head.

The dog cocked his head.

I pointed.

He huffed and lay back down on his dog bed .

I yanked open the door, stepped outside into the crisp air, slammed the door, and stomped across the yard.

Even as I walked the path, I wondered the wisdom of this.

Why not just take the money and pretend like the night had never happened?

Why not tuck it away for a rainy day and move on with my life?

You know why.

I did. I couldn’t be bought. Not by Archer Chamberlain. Not by anyone.

I pushed through the underbrush and into the clearing. Normally, numerous trucks lined one side of the driveway, but today, Archer’s pitiful SUV sat alone.

I winced and offered up a word of thanks. The tree had fallen straight across the front half, right on top of the front seats. Anyone in there would’ve been killed instantly.

Some of my anger dissipated.

Riley’s team was dismantling the tree, a tow truck had backed in, and Taryn, the driver, was hitching up the vehicle. Straight to the scrapyard. And the thing was new. Or relatively new.

I wasn’t a big car guy, but I could spot quality and expense. This had cost Archer a pretty penny.

Well, that was why people were required to acquire insurance. Hopefully replacement value.

Taryn waved and I waved back. She and her fiancée had a reputation of being friendly.

Lots of people in Mission City had reputations of being friendly—I just didn’t know most of them. I rarely left the mountain.

I pivoted my attention.

When I spotted the owner of said demolished vehicle, my anger flared back up.

Archer stood next to Riley as they surveyed the home .

The monstrosity of a house that felt even bigger than it usually did. Likely because my own place was so small in comparison.

The guy towered over me, but barely topped Riley.

The woman was uncommonly tall, uncommonly beautiful, and unerringly charming.

She’d done much to allay my concerns about having a construction site next to my home.

Nothing either of us could do about the inconvenience, but she ensured her crew were always respectful and considerate. As considerate as they could be.

Except the couple of times they’d been working before and after regular work hours. When they’d broken the bylaws about quiet.

I’d felt guilty reporting them—but I needed downtime. As long as she and her crew were here, I never seemed to get peace. That said, it appeared most of the outdoor work was done. Still, vehicles were constantly coming and going. Always some kind of noise.