Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I lean up to kiss his cheek. Then I stiffen, because even though it felt right in the moment, was it really?
Oh, God.
Yes, we’re having amazing sex, but I don’t know if I’m overstepping boundaries.
How does a gentle peck on the cheek somehow feel more intimate than sucking his dick?
But if Archer notices, he doesn’t comment. He just flips another pancake.
Once, twice, three times in the air before he catches it again.
“Show-off.” I laugh, but Rina flashes in my mind, and my smile dies.
We haven’t known each other long. I still haven’t asked him much about his ex-wife. Every time I’ve touched it with the longest pole, he’s dodged the subject.
I get it.
She was a mistake.
She hasn’t been around a lot.
She isn’t important to him anymore but he lets her see Colt because that’s what divorced parents do.
It’s kinda endearing.
Really, everything about this man is, from knowing he used to be an army medic to the way he makes pizza and pancakes to die for like it’s a daily occurrence.
But the fact that Rina was here, and my first instinct was to claim Archer right in front of her, to make it clear he’s mine, feels worrying. Especially considering I don’t know anything about their relationship or why it didn’t work.
I don’t even know why they fell in love in the first place.
At a glance, they couldn’t be more different. Maybe that’s part of it.
The whole opposites attract thing isn’t always as glamorous in real life as it is in romance novels.
…but aren’t we basically the same? Opposites?
He’s a certified grump, older and wiser than I’ll ever be, and a no-nonsense money-driven suit by day.
I’m just—Winnie.
And Just Winnie doesn’t seem destined to be more than a fleeting love interest in the long, winding line of women falling at his feet. I’m sure they exist.
But as he piles pancakes on a plate and drizzles maple syrup over them, I wonder.
I need to keep my craziest thoughts to myself.
For now, brunch is enough.
It has to be when the rest of this situationship is too precious, far too fragile to be mowed down by hard truths.
We’re not in a relationship—not explicitly—but if we were, it couldn’t be going more smoothly.
I’ve semi moved in, although we’ve both stressed it’s a temporary thing. A quick fix to keep unwanted company at bay.
What we’re not saying is how good it feels.
Spending time with Archer feels natural. Too easy.
It’s the same for his son. Colt might be one of the easiest kids ever to get along with.
And the sex—oh my flipping God.
We take advantage of every second Colt leaves to defile new surfaces of his spectacular house.
The library, the dining room, the living room (again), the hallway, the shower…
He’s insatiable. So am I.
It’s like being together taps into this secret well of rabid need that’s been building for years.
But unfortunately, real life also happens, duties and doubts waiting to disrupt paradise.
I wish it didn’t, but no matter how explosive we are in bed, time keeps ticking by.
I promised him a beekeeper for free rent. I’m not skimping on my end of the deal. That’s why we return to the cabin together.
Solitude.
It’s such a perfect name for this tranquil place. Without my woes seeping in, it’s an oasis in the woods where all worldly cares melt away.
We’ve been back a few times since I started staying with Archer. Every time, he accompanies me with this protective edge in his voice.
I’m afraid he’ll wreck Holden’s face if my dumb, selfish ex is stupid enough to show up again.
But the bees are doing well.
At first, I was concerned, like leaving the place vacant could open them to some shocking disaster. But no, they’re thriving.
The honey looks just as royal purple as always, and it seems like there’s more of it every visit as the summer wears on.
“Can you pass me the hammer please?” I hold my hand out behind me. I feel something cool and metallic settle in my palm a second later and I wrap my fingers around it.
“You sure you’ve got this?” Archer asks.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve built more than a few of these over the years.” With the back of my hand, I wipe sweat from my forehead.
It’s already August with the late summer sun blazing, but the effort is worth it. This extra box will give the bees plenty of space to expand before the season ends and into next year.
My phone buzzes again and I push my hat back as I stare at the screen.
Another missed call from Mom.
Sigh.
I listened to her last voicemail in the bathroom so Archer wouldn’t hear it, and it was predictably needy as hell.
We’ve reached the begging stage of her manic guilt trip. The part where her world starts imploding with a huge Winnie-sized piece of it missing.
Mom pleaded with me to come home.