Three Reckless Words: Chapter 9

Maybe it’s the emotional whirlwind I’ve been through these past few days, but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why Archer Rory wants to meet at The Sugar Bowl.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a sweet place. Literally.

This cute little bakery lined with old photos of smiling people from floor to ceiling, scrumptious desserts, an adorable founding granny, and many, many awards they’ve won.

Archer wasn’t too transparent when he texted me the directions.

From the minute I showed up, the neon lights and picture-perfect cakes and confections in the window told me this place is going to be good.

Of course, it’s the same bakery I’ve been ordering my pity-party breakup boxes and unhealthy breakfasts from. My mouth waters just from stepping inside and inhaling the doughy air and so many other smells.

Chocolate. Cinnamon. Miracles.

If I’m being honest, I’d pop into plenty of bakeries in Springfield and DC too. Holden used to call my sweet tooth ‘unhealthy,’ but I like to think it’s sophisticated.

If people can be wine snobs, why can’t they go to pieces over a heavenly eclair, or a bear claw so glazed you can skate on it?

I wish I had time to bake more myself.

I wish my parents let me, back when I lived at home.

I’ve watched so many episodes of The Great British Bake Off that I could lecture you about the best way to make macaroons.

This place has macaroons, too. Lavender and chocolate and lemon and—

Okay, focus!

None of this gives me a clue about why Archer summoned me here.

I spin around the middle of the floor, though, my bag clamped firmly to my side, just vibing in the carefree atmosphere.

There’s a rack overhead with hanging plants draped through the slats. Tables are clustered together at friendly intervals, and there’s so much wood and old-school tile walls.

Archer isn’t here yet.

I check the time and pick a table in the corner. There’s a menu already posted, a little leather booklet with gorgeous photos of desserts.

Yes, this place is magical.

Arriving early means I’m perfectly positioned to see Archer when he shows up. I don’t have to wait long, and when he does…

You know how it is in movies when time slows down and dramatic music swells as soon as the immaculately dressed hero arrives with the wind tossing his hair?

It’s that moment exactly, minus the background track. And he walks toward the nonexistent camera after a quick scan around the room.

That moment, but real life.

This man is inhumanly attractive.

The whole big daddy package with dark hair brushed back from his forehead, piercing blue eyes, and stubble that would make every inch of a girl’s skin tingle in the best way.

Today, he’s gone casual with jeans and a white tee that shows off a tattoo wrapping up one arm.

Holy hell.

…is that a freaking eagle attacking a snake? No, the bird doesn’t look quite right. It’s smaller, shaped more like a cardinal.

I can’t make out all the fine details, but I see enough. It’s so whimsical and unexpected I smile.

Be still my beating heart.

And God, this man is sculpted. His biceps strain the sleeves of his shirt—which should be illegal, by the way—and I can appreciate the incredible Atlas-worthy breadth of his shoulders.

He really looks like he’s ready to take on the world without a complaint.

He swings into the seat across from me and nods at the menu, giving me time to recover my wits and tuck my jaw back into place.

“Hey, Winnie.”

“Hi,” I say, thankful my voice still works and isn’t dripping with dumb, flirty desire. I hope.

“See anything you want here?”

He’s talking about the menu. The menu, girl.

“See anything I don’t want, you mean? This place is divine.” My face screws up with delight. “But honestly, I’m a chocoholic, so I’ll probably try that volcanic brownie with toffee apple sauce.”

“You sure you don’t want the special?” He reaches over, showing off his designer watch as he hands me a smaller laminated menu I hadn’t noticed before. “Honey cupcakes. With fresh honey and cream cheese frosting.”

“Oh. My. God. Now I know why you brought us here.”

I don’t, but he smiles—an amazing smile, not just a ghostly switch of his lips—which makes me think I’ve never seen him truly smile before.

This one actually lights up his face.

Those dark-blue eyes of pure sorcery go from calm secrets to open night sky.

I think I stop breathing.

“My sister-in-law owns this place. Thought you might like it,” he says.

“You’re a little late to the party,” I say, recovering my voice. “I’ve been ordering stuff from this place for days. I can’t believe I missed the cupcakes, though. Honey cupcakes, shit!” I hold the menu to my heart. “Your sister-in-law is a genius. I bet we’ll hit it off like besties.”

I realize my mistake as soon as I say it. I bet we’ll hit it off like besties.

Like we’re going to ever meet.

Like there’s a reason I should meet his brilliant baker sister-in-law.

“I mean, if I ever meet her,” I garble, “which I won’t, because… why would I? She sounds like a great person, though. I admire anyone who runs a place this cool.”

Like he hasn’t even registered my mammoth stupidity, Archer looks over the menu and waves to a server. She’s a young, pretty girl with brown hair in springy curls and soulful dark eyes, a college girl, maybe.

Really, she’s probably just a couple of years younger than me.

“Two honey cupcakes and an espresso, please.” He looks at me expectantly. “What do you want to drink?”

I scan the laminated menu with the drink selection—sodas, coffees, hot chocolates, milkshakes—and settle on a Bittersweet Mocha with locally made dark chocolate and cane sugar. The girl takes the order and heads to the back.

Archer leans forward, bracing his tree branch forearms on the table.

“I spoke with my brothers yesterday. It’s good news,” he says, watching me intently.

“I can stay?”

“As our temporary resident bee specialist, yes. That’s the deal. I told them you were going to tap the honey and help us get it analyzed, or whatever you do with the purple stuff.”

I laugh. Honestly, the way he knows nothing about bees is kinda adorable.

Then again, adorable feels like the wrong word for a literal giant who inherited all the grumpy genes.

“Don’t worry. I have every intention of getting my hands messy with that honey. There are labs that can help us figure out its medicinal benefits if we send off a sample. But did you tell your brothers it’s purple?”

His eyes narrow. “I may have mentioned it.”

“Aw, man, that’s the best part! Don’t you tell them anything?” I wag a finger. “That’s half the selling point, until people taste it.”

“I stressed how rare it is,” he offers.

“And they just took your word?”

“I don’t make lying a habit.” His face tightens for a second, then relaxes. “Dexter and Patton know as much about honey as I do. Jack shit. I could’ve told them it was made from moon cheese and they wouldn’t know better.”

Okay, that wins him a snorting laugh.

I’m still laughing when a girl with hair redder than mine comes over, though hers is much straighter and hangs in glossy waves. Archer gives her a relaxed, easy smile that makes him look almost soft.

“Checking up on me already, Junie?” he asks.

“I know how impatient you get when your stomach starts growling,” the woman says affectionately. She might be a couple years older than me, maybe, and she’s predictably gorgeous. Sea-green eyes, a lovely pale face that looks like it belongs on a marble statue, and a wide smile.

She sets our drinks on the table. I hate that my heart dips until he speaks again, wondering if these two have a thing.

“This is my sister-in-law, Juniper Rory,” Archer says.

Sister-in-law? The owner? Oh, thank God.

Huge relief.

Junie, he called her. From the playful way she grins at him, they’re on good terms. Certainly better than how he seemed to be with that woman who looked like she just stepped out of a play, still wearing her costume. His wife, I guess.

It’s weird, trying to figure him out.

All the pieces don’t quite fit.

But I’ve seen my share of unhappy, passionless marriages, so it’s nothing new. I hope Arch isn’t cursed with the same fate.

“This must be her, huh? Super nice to meet you,” Juniper says to me with a bright smile. “My husband told me all about the mythical bee lady.”

“Junie,” Archer warns.

She flashes a mischievous smile. “Come on, dude. You know I had to see her for myself to know it was true.”

Snorting, he shifts his gaze to me, an expression flicking over his eyes I can’t quite read. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I promise you her treats make up for her attitude.”

“You’re lucky I’m busy, mister, or I’d fill your cupcake with gobs of cinnamon. See how you like it when you choke on a honey fireball. You’re in my second home, so behave.” Junie smacks him on the shoulder and gives me a grin before putting a brief, reassuring hand on mine.

Archer sighs as she disappears, leaning back into his seat.

“Mythical bee lady?” I ask. “They weren’t sure I existed? Or do they have something against bees?”

“They know the bees exist,” Archer says with a shrug. “They figured I wasn’t lying about you. But the way I played up the honey, I’m sure they wondered.”

“Well, I guess you have to see the stuff to get why it’s special…”

But that doesn’t explain the mythical part.

He grits his teeth, and for a second, I think he’s upset.

But eventually, he says, “Frankly, they’re not convinced this is about the bees. They suspect something else is going on.”

“You told them about my dad?” I hold my breath.

“Absolutely not. But that doesn’t mean they’re stupid. I said you had a personal concern keeping you at Solitude and left it at that. They know there’s more to the story than keeping you around to scare up purple honey.”

I touch my bee earrings lightly between sips of mocha, trying to think past the weird feeling in my chest. Suspecting there’s more to the story isn’t the same as thinking Archer has any secret motivations beyond the kindness of his heart.

I’m getting carried away.

After everything that’s happened over the past two weeks, I need to keep my brain in check. Especially with a generous, bad-tempered, flipping married man as drop-dead gorgeous as Archer Rory.

Before I can think too much about why that’s so hard, Junie returns with our honey cupcakes. They look flawless.

There’s honey drizzled neatly over the top with tiny flakes of sea salt. A little like salted caramel, I guess.

“Enjoy!” she says with a wink.

Archer scowls at her, but she doesn’t give him time to think of a comeback before she sails away.

“You guys are on good terms. That’s nice with in-laws,” I observe, because that’s safer than doing anything else. Like thinking about Archer and his motivations or what his brothers must think.

What he’s not saying about getting raked over the coals thanks to my situation.

Holy hell, does his wife know he’s asking for special favors and losing money over a strange woman?

“She’s a nice girl,” he says. “She makes my brother happy, which is a miracle I never thought I’d see.”

“So he’s like you? Grouchy?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I grin.

“I’m a serious man. Dexter just sucks.”

I laugh. “Sure, sure, and I’m just a bee lady.”

His lips thin and he takes a long pull off his coffee.

I do the same with my mocha, loving the balanced dance of dark chocolate and sweet sugar. It’s like a symphony in my mouth.

I lick a dab of whipped cream from the side of the mug and glance up to find him staring.

My face bursts into flames.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he says abruptly. “When you ran into Rina.”

Oh, crap, he’s reading my mind.

But I guess we have to talk about it at some point, right? Since he’s doing me a big favor, he has to mention the two times we got—way too close for comfort.

Any sane man would do the same and put me in my place, remind me that it can’t keep happening.

“Your wife?” I whisper.

“Ex-wife,” he growls.

What?

Oh. I never considered that.

But even though his eyes shutter at the mention of her, the tight pinch in my chest eases.

I haven’t caused any arguments between husband and wife. He’s not married.

Calm down, Win. Not married doesn’t mean single. Let alone available and interested in you.

But it also doesn’t mean covered in barbed wire and off-limits. I shake myself before I get carried away. Again.

“We don’t communicate much. I haven’t seen her in a long time,” he adds.

“Really?”

“She travels a lot.”

“Oh.” I take a slow bite of my honey cupcake, quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten. “Dear God, this is amazing.”

The small moan that slips out of me almost kills me from embarrassment right there.

His eyes glow like sapphire discs as he watches me and says, “It’s nice to see you smile again, Winnie.”

At least his expression eases now that we’re not talking about his ex-wife. Though I desperately want to ask him more about her—like when they broke up, why, and whether he’s ever dated again—it’s so not my place.

We talk about normal things.

Safe things.

There are a couple more cabins not too far from Solitude and one that’s still under construction and not open for rentals yet. He says it’s basically livable and I might be able to use it as a backup for a longer term stay if I need it.

I hope I won’t have to burden him.

But I thank him anyway, and I don’t dare mention how much that means to me. I need every door open until I can find a real job.

First, though, I have to make sure the bees are being managed properly and find out what we can really do with the honey. I’m determined to pay back his generosity by taking this gig seriously.

We’re going to make sure the Rory brothers wind up with the best streamlined small-time honey production outside North Dakota. Surprise, surprise, that’s the top honey state in the nation. Producers are everywhere, big and small.

When we’re finally ready to go, Archer clears his throat. “How’d you get here, anyway? I didn’t see your car.”

“Uber.”

“Not driving?”

I shrug. “Technically, it’s my dad’s car now. His name was on the title since he’s the one who bought it as a graduation present. I’m sure he’ll have it tracked down and repo’d at some point. I don’t want to cause more grief by driving it much longer.”

Archer sends me a searching glance.

I deflect with a bland smile, trying to hide just how cooked my life is.

“Let me take you back,” he says. “I know money’s tight.”

I should be embarrassed.

It’s awkward knowing that a guy with so much money to his name knows exactly how broke I am. But something about the way he says it takes the sting away.

It’s not condescension, it’s kindness.

I’ve been around both long enough to know the difference, when someone’s doing you a selfless favor or when they’re only helping to put you in debt.

“Also, I’d like to get a better look at the bees without Colt around,” he adds.

“You do?” I can’t help it, I grin up at him.

“You promised me a gold mine and it’s my duty to check it out. Thoroughly.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” I practically skip over to his waiting Tesla SUV, which unlocks as he draws near. It’s sleek and expensive and gorgeous.

I always wanted one, even if they aren’t the most practical for the occasional cross-country drive to DC and back when my boss wasn’t flying us.

I guess this is a good time to figure out if it’s something I actually want one day.

Just like everything else in my life.

If there’s ever been a time to reinvent Winnie Emberly, it’s now.

As I strap myself in, I beam at him.

One corner of his mouth curls up into an easy, cool smile. On Archer Rory, that’s a Cheshire cat’s grin.

Without another word, he starts the vehicle and we set off.

If someone told me a few days ago that this no-nonsense, fussy lunk would make me double over laughing, I’d have called them a liar.

Yet here I am.

Breathless, sore, bent over and clutching my stomach, all while he eyes the bees with downright suspicion.

“They’re so… loud.” His nose wrinkles and he bares his teeth.

“Well, yeah. They’re bees!” I gasp, trying not to fall into another laughing fit.

He really is a human bear, clumsily shooing them away with his large hands when they get too close.

Except here, they’re always too close because technically we’re in their space.

“Aren’t you supposed to smoke them out or something?”

“Nah. Some keepers use smoke to keep them docile while they get the honey, but we’re not doing that. We’re just looking today.” I catch his arm when he moves to shoo more of them away. “Don’t do it. If you antagonize them, you’ll get stung for sure.”

“Isn’t there a way to keep them the hell out of my face?”

“Dude, relax. Slow movements. No fear, no anger. If you scare them or show up flapping your hands around, that’s when they consider you a threat.”

“They’re not bothering you.” He glares at me.

I raise a hand, watching as the bees fly past. A couple land on my arm, crawl around for a few seconds, then fly off.

“See? No harm, no foul. You just have to wait and trust they won’t hurt you.”

“They sting, Winnie.”

I laugh. “Archer, I’m aware. That doesn’t mean they lash out for no reason.”

A bee tangles up in my hair. I wait for it to figure out how to free itself.

Archer looks like he wants to help, but I shake my head slowly. He doesn’t have my bee-whisperer skills or my patience.

Knowing him, he’ll try to flick the bee out of my hair and get me stung right in the ear.

“I reached out to some other beekeepers in the area,” I say once the bee flies off. “I sent them a few pics of the honey and they were pumped. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything like this in the region.”

His eyes are a dusky shade of blue as he looks at me, and I feel the full weight of his focus. Even the bees don’t distract him now, and my throat tightens at the sight of it.

The sight of him.

“The color and sweetness could make it an attractive product. It’ll have to be bottled up and branded, of course, but you’re already a genius with that stuff,” I continue. “And that’s not taking the medicinal properties into consideration. We’ll need the lab panel to determine that. There are plenty of private places, or maybe the local university could—”

“What the fuck.” His eyebrows draw together. “Winnie, are you sure you don’t have a PhD in entomology?”

“What? No.” I feel my cheeks heat. “No, it’s just a hobby. Something my grandma got me interested in.”

I think he’s going to drop it, but he tilts his head as he reconsiders. “She’s into beekeeping too?”

“She had bees. I mean, she was rich enough to have gardeners and landscapers like you. She had a few beekeepers over the years. I was always fascinated by the way they’d handle the bees, even when I was a little girl. Whenever I’d go over to her place, I used to just sit and watch them for hours.” I stop, a lump forming in my throat.

Going over to see my grandparents was always an escape. A release from normal life.

Between Dad demanding perfect grades and piling on extracurriculars, and Mom needing her pretty little girl to dress up, Grandma and Grandpa just wanted me.

Just Winnie, simple and unfiltered.

They’re the only ones who let me be a kid.

Archer comes closer. There’s still space between us, but less now, and the air vibrates.

“So that’s where you picked it up?” he prompts.

“When I got older, Grandma told the beekeepers to teach me things when she saw how much I liked it. It was the one thing that was mine, not like the other stuff my parents decided I should do. All my life, I’ve been doing stuff because other people said I should. My dad told me what to study, what to believe. My mom used to pick out my clothes, my haircut, my shampoos and toothpaste. Everything—ugh. But the bees, they were mine, this sweet escape I had until the day my grandma died. My parents never knew until I was almost grown.”

“Damn, woman, that’s harsh. Sorry you felt like you needed one.” His voice blurs gentle and rough.

The sharp glint in his eye says if he’d had a say, he would’ve done it differently.

Tingles.

The longer I stare at him, the more heat I feel, humming under my skin.

“I mean, it’s fine now. It’s nothing. Nobody has a perfect childhood, right? I’d rather figure out the rest of my life than waste more time blaming my parents.” I wave a dismissive hand. Mostly because dwelling on it too long will make me cry, and I’ve done more than enough of that around Archer. “I think Mom still allowed it when she found out because she thought it was a phase. Something I’d leave behind after high school, but I’ve loved it ever since.”

“It’s admirable, Winnie. You loved something enough to pursue it for so long. Hell of a lot of people out there who never find that.”

I smile softly.

“I wish you could convince my father.” I sound bitter, so I force that smile to stay a little longer and gently brush a bee off his shoulder. “There. See how friendly they are when you’re calm? You didn’t even notice he was there.”

“He, huh?” Archer narrows his eyes. “You saying you’re an expert on all bee anatomy?”

“Oh, stop. I’m sure yours is bigger, if that’s what has you worried.”

Then it happens.

He laughs.

His lips split into a big, messy smile that makes my heart cartwheel, and I realize my hand is still on his shoulder.

Oh, no, I should move it.

Any second now, I’m going to move it and step back.

But his eyes flick to mine as his laughter fades. My breath catches in my throat and the rest of the world falls away.

I don’t know when we started moving, but we’re closer still, basically sharing breathing space. The height difference is so much I have to tip my head back.

His gaze drops to my mouth and I catch my breath.

Please kiss me.

Please just once.

The force of that illicit, insane thought takes me by surprise.

It doesn’t matter if we’re sharing bad jokes and bees.

He’s a stranger. Older and rich and successful enough to make heads spin and ugly whispers fly.

There are definite reasons—very good ones—why we should absolutely not kiss right now if we value our lives. Especially the fact that we’re total opposites and—

And okay, aside from that, maybe I can’t think of any reasons. Considering the way his face is closer than it was a few seconds ago, I don’t want to think of any.

This warm, fluttery feeling pulses in my belly. My hand on his shoulder clenches, fingers digging into his hard muscle.

“Winnie,” he rumbles.

God, the way he says my name alone is an eruption.

And I know how crazy this is.

I know I’ve lost it as I stretch up on my tiptoes and put my hand on his other shoulder to steady myself in case my knees give out.

I know his hand lands on my waist, quick and possessive, and his nose brushes mine with the slightest touch that still feels like a fireball.

I know I’ve never experienced a single moment this erotically charged.

Or a man like a human mountain, who takes his sweet time deciding if he wants to take what I’m offering in the most patient, painstaking way possible.

Like every brutal second is a challenge to overcome.

Like he needs to ask for permission with every movement.

Like he’s testing the anticipation he builds, just to see if what’s coming is truly worth the grief.

Oh, Archer, will you trust me just this once?

Will you be a little reckless?

Then his fingers flex on my waist and suddenly he’s backing away.

My hands fall limply from his shoulders. Although the sun beams hot on my back, I feel almost cold without him there, fully hollowed out.

“I should go,” he rasps, a thousand conflicts in his voice.

“Oh. Okay, sure.” Pathetic. I try to collect my thoughts, scattered somewhere across time and space.

He doesn’t meet my gaze, but I can see the redness on his cheekbones under his beard.

He’s simply beautiful in this clean, masculine way. I want to wrap him in my arms and—

Yeah, and kiss him.

But he doesn’t want that.

He won’t kiss me.

The thought flash freezes the warmth that was spreading lower with every second we grew closer. He doesn’t want me and that’s cool.

Absolutely fine.

It’s not like I want to kiss this man anyway, no matter how carried away we got in the heat of the moment.

I wasn’t thinking.

I barely know him.

He wasn’t that polite or gentle the first time we met. Even though he’s been a lot nicer since, this whole situation feels too abrupt. Too sudden.

Too self-destructive for sure.

I follow him back to the cabin in grim silence, leaving the happy bees behind.

Archer’s face is closed off, his eyes everywhere but on me. I make sure not to look at him after my first little glance.

Two can play this silly game.

“Thanks for the cheesecake,” he says as we step into the kitchen. “It was delicious. Colt would’ve wolfed it all down in one go if I’d let him.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re welcome.” I do my best not to imagine Rina, the ex-wife, eating it with them. “I just wanted to… apologize for the whole situation, y’know.”

“No need. I’ll be in touch.” His eyes linger on my face for a beat too long.

“Okay.” I’m crushed as I nod, forcing myself to stay where I am as he turns for the door.

Every part of me wants to say something to make him stay, but I bite my lip.

He’s leaving.

He should.

This situation is explosive enough without introducing kissing and aching desire and mind-blowing sex, but I—

He pauses on the threshold, slowly glancing back over his shoulder.

Then he turns.

His hand tightens on the doorknob before he slams it shut and strides back over.

I only have time to blurt out “Wha—” before he’s on me, guns blazing, one hand on my waist and the other sliding up my jaw, bracing me.

His kiss is all animal.

Rough, furious, greedy.

He gives me teeth and tongue and thunder, pushing a growl in my mouth that vibrates my bones.

He kisses like his lips have been aching to do it for months—for years—maybe for his entire freaking life.

I’m hit by a force of nature, swept back faster than I can breathe.

My back thunks against the wall and my hair spills everywhere.

I haven’t even moved. That’s all him, shoving me until I’m secure and held up, a willing victim just waiting to be pillaged.

Holy Mother of Lust.

His hands are rampant, squeezing and stroking and suddenly everywhere.

My hands are everywhere else.

I don’t have time to think about it or time to give them direction.

They slide over his shoulders, his chest, admiring the hard cut of his muscles under his shirt, tugging him closer.

I need the burning air from his lungs.

I need his skin on mine.

I need him closer, closer.

I’m a silent demand, asking for so much more than this breath-thieving kiss.

He can have my whole heart.

He can tear my clothes off right here, right now, and bury his cock in me.

This man can have everything.

He can take me apart one fierce stroke at a time.

He can fuck my lights out just as long as he makes me forget.

Please, just make me forget I’m Winnie, the lost runaway bride with her life in ruins, and give it to me like a woman in full control of her destiny.

I’m smiling like a madwoman as I moan into his mouth, closing my eyes, surrendering in a way I haven’t ever before.

Kiss by steaming kiss, as his tongue chases mine, I ask Archer Rory to demolish me so I can build myself again.