Chapter 13 #3
“I should have come home for the funeral. I regret that so much. The day of, I drove halfway here and then turned around,” I explained.
“Really?”
I nodded. “I had my mom call me and put it on speaker so I could listen to the eulogy given at his grave.”
Archer dropped my face and stepped back, eyes glistening as his expression wrinkled up with emotion. “You did?”
I nodded. “I wanted to be here, but I was afraid I’d only make it harder for you.”
“I came to Boston,” he said abruptly
Rocking back on my heels, I said, “What?”
He nodded. “Six years ago. After Dad died, I spent a few years getting a handle on the farm, and I just couldn’t stop thinking of you. I missed you.”
“You were in Boston,” I echoed, heart hammering persistently against my ribs.
“I came to that clinic you worked at. The one across from that terrible coffee shop.”
I laughed. “Their coffee was the worst.”
Archer nodded. “I sat there and waited for you to come out.”
“I didn’t?” I wondered because I knew I never saw him. That was something I wouldn’t ever forget.
“You did.” He confirmed, face falling.
I stepped forward. “But I—”
“You were with someone.”
I frowned. “With someone?”
Archer nodded. “You hugged him, held his hand.”
My heart sank. Caved in on itself right there. “You didn’t say anything,” I said, the words sticking in my throat.
“You looked happy. You’d moved on…”
“No!” I exclaimed. “No! I tried to date. I did briefly a few times. But no one—” I stopped talking, shocked that we’d misunderstood each other so much.
“No one?”
“No one ever compared to you,” I said, bold.
His face changed, falling but then filling with relief. “Really?”
“Why do you think I never came home at Christmas? It was too painful a reminder of what I would never have.”
Archer swept me into his arms and pressed his lips against mine. I gasped at the sudden contact, and he used my surprise to settle more firmly against me.
The sensation of being exactly where I belonged filled me, and I relaxed into him with a quiet moan. I succumbed to the feelings I’d been fighting for ten years, handing over the reins and letting them take control.
Archer groaned and cupped my jaw, tilting my face just the way he wanted it and licking over the seam of my lips with his very enticing tongue.
I parted, and he swept in, teasing me lightly before curling around me completely.
My fingers fisted in the front of his jacket and clung as we kissed the way I always wanted to…
the reality of it far surpassing any dream I might have had.
The stubble on his chin and upper lip was rough but not abrasive and added a layer of sensation to the kiss I’d never known before.
His lips were confident just like the rest of him, as if he didn’t know how to do anything halfway, and his tongue, it tasted slightly of coffee and something sweeter, like the icing we’d been working with before we came here.
Up on tiptoes, I wound my arms around his neck and pushed until our chests were plastered together.
He hummed with satisfaction, the sound vibrating all the way into my chest. Before pulling back completely, he pressed a softer kiss against my lip and then dragged his square, stubbly chin against mine, making my toes curl inside my shoes.
He let out a breathy laugh and pressed his forehead against mine. “I have wanted to do that for so fucking long.”
It took a moment for me to catch my breath, and when I did, all my kiss-addled brain could manage was, “I thought you were straight.”
Archer’s smile was quick and beautiful. “Turns out I’m gay for you.”
I ducked my head into his shoulder and laughed.
Woof! Woof!
We pulled back enough to look down at Marlowe dancing at our feet, something clutched in his mouth.
“I really hope that’s not a dead rodent,” I mused.
“You’re a vet,” he teased.
“Yes, and I like to keep animals alive.”
Archer laughed and leaned down. “Drop it,” he instructed, holding out his hand to Marlowe.
“Eww, don’t touch it! What if it’s something dead?” I panicked, pulling away.
Splat!
I gagged at the wet sound that whatever it was made slapping into Archer’s palm.
“Well, this seems appropriate,” he mused, lifting his hand.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t looking.
“It’s not a dead rodent,” he informed.
I didn’t know why he thought this was so amusing. I did not want to have to perform CPR on some poor wild animal in the snow and dark under this old oak…
My eyes popped open. The oak.
Chuckling, Archer held out his hand.
I leaned in to get a closer look, a fluttering filling my middle as I took in the green leaves and white berries. “Mistletoe?”
Archer nodded. “Appears so.”
I lifted my head to gaze at the tree and its twisted framework, then to the ball-shaped clusters of lush green leaves standing out against their skeletal, barren host.
“You kissed me under the mistletoe,” I murmured, pointing up.
“I couldn’t let another opportunity pass me by,” Archer said.
Is this really happening? “You know what they say about kissing under the mistletoe…” I hedged.
“Mm.” He agreed, eyes never once leaving my face. “And this stuff is still attached to the tree.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“It means,” Archer said, palming my waist and tugging me in, “that I just turned my frenemy into my forever.”
Well, maybe Archer Hodge was romantic after all.