Chapter 17
Toby
“You owe my car an apology,” I declared as we stood at the back end while the hatch lifted effortlessly.
Archer snorted like I’d made a joke, and I folded my arms across my chest and glared.
“You’re serious?” he asked, all trace of humor gone.
“You could just admit that you were wrong.” I was a generous guy.
“Wrong?” He guffawed. “Wrong about what?”
“That this car is for a city boy.”
He pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest, mirroring my stance. He was wearing another flannel. Honestly, I was starting to believe it was all he owned.
Not that it was a bad thing… No one wore flannel like Archer.
“And what proof do you have that it isn’t?” he challenged.
I gestured to the gingerbread gazebo, which sat unharmed in the back of my Outback. “Your truck couldn’t have done that.”
“My truck is made for hauling trees.”
I turned my ear toward him and sang, “I’m waiting.”
He made a rude noise.
I waited, and he sighed.
“Fine.” He begrudged. “Your car was helpful tonight.”
I beamed. “It drives nice too, doesn’t it?”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw you melting into the heated seat on the way over here,” I teased.
“It’s cold out,” he grumped.
I laughed. I loved pushing his buttons. It was one of my favorite things. It was also a really great way to avoid the conversation I knew we needed to have.
It wasn’t even that I wanted to avoid it…
I was just nervous. Afraid that I’d really screwed things up between us.
It gave me a small inkling of how Archer might have felt ten years ago when he rejected me that night.
He said he regretted it almost instantly.
I also understood why it seemed so hard to try and make it right.
Why was it so much easier to push someone away than to pull them close?
“We should probably get this into the gazebo. People are waiting,” I murmured.
He’d been late getting to the bistro. Late enough that I’d started to worry he wasn’t coming at all.
But then his mint-green Ford turned onto Main Street, and I practically sagged in relief.
He came. It’s not too late for us.
“Tobes…” His voice was deep and quiet, meant only for me.
The light touch on my arm was not restraining, but it stopped me in my tracks. Turning back from the interior of the Outback, I gazed at him, eyes asking everything my lips could not.
His hand fell away from my arm, but he stepped closer while tucking his hands into the pocket of the vest over his flannel.
His chin angled down, and our eyes locked.
The tug between us was undeniable, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was just inches away.
The rest of the world melted away, and it was him and me under a dark, snowy sky.
“I want to t—”
“Boys!” someone called, shattering the snow globe in which we’d existed. “Bring it over.”
I turned to see Bab and Mayor Schroder waving from the sidewalk across the street. I turned back, startled to find Archer still watching me. He hadn’t looked away.
“Th-they’re waiting,” I said, suddenly feeling clumsy in front of him.
His eyes searched mine a moment longer, and then he nodded slowly. When he finally looked away, my lungs deflated, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
“You grab that side,” he instructed, voice quiet. “I’ll take this one.”
I reached for the base it was on but then pulled back instantly to tug off my gloves.
“You’re going to get cold,” Archer scolded.
“I’d rather be cold than drop it because the gloves got in my way.”
He frowned as though the idea of my comfort was more important than this gingerbread masterpiece. But let’s face it. It wasn’t. If we didn’t get this thing up into the gazebo, there would be hell to pay.
In the form of our angry mothers and a woman yelling at us in French.
“I got it,” I said, gripping the end.
Carefully, we slid it out of the back of the Outback and straightened. Small snowflakes swirled in the minty fresh air. Every breath I took was a small white cloud in front of me.
In true dramatic small-town fashion, Mayor Schroder rushed out into the middle of the two-lane street to stop traffic, his long wool coat flapping as if he were some sort of superhero and not a humble civil servant.
“Watch your step,” Archer murmured as we moved off the sidewalk and onto the street.
“I got it,” I told him. Geez, did he think I was incapable?
“I know you do. But I worry anyway.”
Well, now I understood why my heart was in a cage because, if not for my ribs, it would have fluttered right up into the sky.
Our eyes met around the side of the gazebo, and I knew I was blushing so hard. My only hope was that it looked like my cheeks were rosy from the wind.
“Just so you know,” I said, “I worry about you too.”
He smiled, and something about it made my heart stumble.
And then my feet followed.
“Whoa,” Archer cautioned, moving fast to steady the delicate build between us. We stopped in the center of the street, headlights bathing us in a spotlight while people by the gazebo stared like we were an attraction. “You need a break?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “It’s not heavy. I just…” My voice trailed off because I wasn’t sure how to give words to what I felt.
“Can’t walk and flirt at the same time?” Archer finished.
My eyes flew to his, and it was a good thing I wasn’t a snowman because, if I were, I’d be a puddle on the street from seeing the teasing, fond light in his eyes.
Smiling, I said, “I guess you’re better at it than me.”
“I think I know someone you can practice on,” he said with a wink.
Pretty sure the Toby from ten years ago just squealed. “I think I’d better focus.”
Archer chuckled but nodded.
We made it across the street, onto the sidewalk, and then to the walkway leading toward the gazebo. People clapped as we carried it up the steps and around the tree to the waiting space on the table. The second it was in place, we both let out a relieved sigh and stepped back.
“It’s not as good as Bab’s,” Archer admitted.
“If you tilt your head sideways and squint your eyes, it’s pretty good,” I said, doing just that.
Archer laughed.
“Bab was right,” Connie said, coming up behind us. We turned, and Archer’s mom slid between us. “It looks great, boys.”
“I wonder if anyone will bid on it,” I mused.
Seconds later, a mic crackled on, and Mayor Schroder announced that it was the final night to get bids in for the auction.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Connie said, looking at Archer meaningfully. He flushed and turned away to study the large fir in the center.
I glanced at Connie questioningly, but she just patted my shoulder and went to greet someone a few feet away. I turned toward Archer, but he was gone. Frowning, I went to look for him, but someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
“Brett,” I said, taking in the mayor’s son dressed in dark slacks and a holiday sweater with a warm coat over the top. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“Town tradition,” he said, and I nodded.
“Did you bid on anything?”
“Not yet, but suddenly, I’ve got my eye on a new piece that was just added.”
Is he flirting?
My eyes flew to his, and he smiled. “The gazebo looks really great.”
“Just don’t look at it too close,” I joked, suddenly nervous.
“So, ah…” He began, and my stomach fell.
The urge to run was so insistent that I actually looked toward the steps. I hadn’t really thought much about Brett’s interest in me. I thought we were just friends and he was grateful I sort of mentored him with vet school. But suddenly, I was much more aware.
“I was thinking that since you’ve finished the gingerbread, you’ll probably have some more time. Maybe you’d—”
I had to make a physical effort not to squeeze my eyes shut. It felt like forcing myself to stare at an oncoming wreck.
“There you are.” Archer butted in, and all the breath in my body rushed out at once, leaving me lightheaded. “I wondered where you went off to.”
“Me? You’re the one who disappeared,” I practically accused.
“Well, I’m here now, and we need to talk.”
“We do?” I wondered, then nodded quickly. “Ah, yes. We do.”
“We were in the middle of something,” Brett said.
Archer glanced at him, and I swear the air turned ten degrees colder. “I’m sorry. It can’t wait,” he replied, then slid his arm around my waist, tugging me into his side.
Brett looked between us, a calculating look in his eyes. His lips parted, and a small white cloud formed in front of them as he readied to speak.
“It’s not happening,” Archer said, confident and firm.
I tensed, and his arm locked tighter around me as though he would stop me from running away.
“What?” Brett asked.
“You and Toby. It’s not happening. You’re going to have to find someone else because he’s mine. He always was, and he always will be.”
My mouth dropped open.
Did Archer just claim me? Did he just claim me in the town square in front of half the town?
Brett looked at me for confirmation, but I was rendered speechless.
A pregnant pause settled between the three of us. When Brett made no move to go, Archer nudged me. “Tell him, Tobes.”
“Tell him?” I echoed.
“Who you belong with.”
I looked up at Archer, his blue eyes a mixture of nerves and something that made my mouth run dry.
Love.
I found myself nodding, still clinging to his gaze. “Yeah.”
“You’re with Archer?” Brett pressed.
Archer reacted subtly. Something I felt because I was pressed into his side. Pulling his eyes from mine, he shifted them to Brett. “Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, cool.
“I thought you two, like, hated each other.”
“I’ve never hated Toby,” Archer said adamantly. Then, looking back at me, he said, “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Apparently, the cage my heart was kept in had a key. And that key was owned by Archer.
I turned to him so our chests were pressed together and not our sides. “Do you really mean that?”
“I’ve never meant anything more,” he vowed, the look in his eyes cementing the promise.