Chapter 24
TWENTY FOUR
DARCY
Emerald green satin hugged my curves all the way down to where the hem dusted over my high-heeled toes, the delicate sleeves hanging loosely around my biceps.
I stuck my right foot through the modest slit so that I could finish buckling it around my ankle.
Wearing red to a firehouse New Year’s party seemed too cliché, and black was the next obvious choice, but I didn’t want to be obvious, so green it was.
It also happened to be the only dress in my closet that still had enough stretch around the middle to accommodate the bump, and I desperately didn’t want to spend money on a maternity dress.
I quickly braided my hair, leaving a few strands down to frame my face, and spun the rest of it into a simple updo at the base of my neck. It was my go to hairstyle for formal events because it appeared complicated, but took ten minutes and six bobby pins.
For a solid five minutes, I debated going dramatic with my makeup and doing a smokey eye, or keeping it natural, but when I peeked at the time, the clock decided for me. Natural it was. I applied a light layer of gloss, rubbing it between my lips on my way to the car.
The drive to Archer’s was short, which didn’t give me a whole lot of time to attempt to settle the anxious excitement building within me before I got to his house.
When he opened the door wearing a black shirt tucked into black suit pants, his tie hanging unfastened around his neck, I was glad I went with the natural look.
Drool would’ve ruined a full face of makeup.
“Damn.” I’d apparently left my vocabulary back in the car. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You look very . . . spiffy.”
His eyes, which had been roaming my body, shot back up to mine, a teasing smirk curving his mouth. “Spiffy?”
I rolled my eyes. “Handsome. Sexy. Great. Delicious. Whatever. You get what I’m saying.”
“I do, but I’d love to hear more words you may have.” His hands moved to his neck, flipping the silky material of his tie around until he had it fastened perfectly without even looking, all while walking into his house.
Following, I closed the door behind me. “Annoying. Arrogant. Cocky.”
He laughed, grabbing his suit jacket off the back of the living room couch and shrugging it on.
Goddamn.
All suits should be entirely black. Or maybe it was that all suits should have Archer Mack in them. My brain was short circuiting.
“You ready?” he asked, walking toward me, which was when the smell of his cologne finally hit me. Whatever it was had me feeling like a cat with catnip.
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded and led the way. If I didn’t put some space between us, I’d be climbing him like a cat too.
He beat me to the car, not that it was hard to do with the heels I was in, and opened the driver’s side door for me.
“Thank you.” I went to get in, when his hand gently caught my elbow, stopping me on my descent.
“You look extremely spiffy yourself.”
“Spiffy?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, using his line against him.
Leaning down, his lips brushed my ear, his voice a lustful rumble. “Divine. Gorgeous. Delectable. Astonishing. Whatever. Do those suffice?”
I probably could’ve skipped applying blush. “Uh-huh,” I squeaked, my pulse ramping up under his gaze.
“Good. Now let’s go so that we can get back and watch your sad animal movie.” He brushed a kiss to my cheek as he pulled away, striding around the car to his side.
Shaking my head, I dropped into the driver’s seat. “Heartfelt, not sad. There’s a difference.”
“I’m sure you’ll explain it to me.”
And I did, for the entire fifteen-minute drive to the banquet hall the fire station had rented out for the evening.
Music erupted from the room as soon as Archer opened the door, and I was shocked by the number of people in attendance. The town had one fire department—I figured there’d be a maximum of forty people, but there was easily double that. They’d gone all out on decorations too.
White linens were draped over circular tables with gold garden chairs evenly spaced around them.
Each table had a bouquet of red flowers arranged perfectly in the center, petals strewn artfully around the base in between flickering tea lights.
More candles were scattered throughout the room, embedded in opaque red-and-white glass beads, and the crystal chandeliers were on just enough to add to the warm glow of the room.
Balloons sat in the far corners, somehow managing to appear elevated beyond the vibe of a child’s birthday party, despite being tied to a weight and set on the floor.
It was beautiful and I was immensely grateful for Linnea convincing me to wear this dress over my other option—I would’ve been severely underdressed.
“Not what you were expecting?” Archer asked, placing his palm on the small of my back as he came up beside me.
“Not at all. Honestly, I thought it’d be at the station with confetti cannons and year-shaped sunglasses.”
“You brat.” He laughed. “We are occasionally capable of some class.”
I was about to respond with exactly where he could shove his class when we were approached by an older man with silver hair and dark ebony skin.
“Is this her?” the man called, regardless of the fact that he was only two feet away from us when he asked it.
“Yes it is. Ralph, this is Darcy. Darcy, this is Ralph, one of our engineers.”
Ralph’s grin was the contagious kind, one that dared you not to smile back, and I failed. “I hear you can kick my ass.”
I snorted. “Your ass is safe, I promise. This dress is wildly constricting. Not great for a wide range of motion.”
His laughter was thunderous despite the music playing. “I’ll count my blessings. And congratulations by the way. I almost didn’t believe Mack here when he said you two were expecting.”
“We didn’t believe it ourselves at first either, but there’s no denying it now is there?” I placed a hand over my stomach.
“No, I don’t imagine there is.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m happy for the both of you. Fatherhood will look great on this one here. Being a mom certainly suits you already.”
Archer clapped a hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Thanks, Ralph. We’re going to go get some drinks and catch up with you in a bit.”
“My wife and I are at that table over there. Go set your things with ours,” he said to Archer before looking my way, and shooting me a wink. “I’m not done yapping your ear off yet.”
Archer led us through the tables, weaving in and out of chairs and people alike, before reaching the table Ralph had indicated. He took my coat, draping it over the back of an empty seat, then grabbed my hand and started pulling me in the direction of the bar.
“What would you like? It’s an open bar, so the world of non-alcoholic beverages is your oyster,” he joked as we approached the marble countertop.
I smiled. “A cranberry seltzer would be great.”
When the bartender walked over, Archer ordered two then threw some cash in the tip jar. I mulled over the question on the tip of my tongue while Archer watched the man make our drinks.
He must’ve felt me staring because he glanced my way. “What’s up?”
I debated not answering, not wanting to make him feel weird, but gave in a second later. “You’re not drinking?
“Nah, not tonight.”
“Why? You’re not the pregnant one. You can have a beer if you want to.”
He shrugged. “I know I’m not, but I’m the reason you are. Doesn’t really seem fair for me to drink when you can’t.”
I let his answer settle for a minute, my thoughts going back to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and every other time I’d seen him. My mouth popped open slightly. “Wait. You haven’t been drinking this whole time?”
“It’s nine months and I’m not an alcoholic. I can do it.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You don’t have to do that.”
The bartender slid our drinks across the counter, and Archer passed me mine, a soft expression on his face. “I know I don’t, but I want to. You’re doing all the heavy lifting, and I’m just . . . here.”
“Well, yeah. That’s pregnancy for most men, I think.” I snickered.
“Well, most men are idiots then.”
“I won’t argue that,” I replied, taking a sip of my mocktail as he pushed off the bartop and held out his hand to me.
Placing my hand in his, he led us back toward the table, all the while his confession raced through my head.
He may not have outwardly stated his exact reasoning behind joining me in sobriety, but I thought I had a pretty good idea.
With the night I told him I was pregnant aside, Archer had been nothing but considerate of my feelings and needs, and that had my chest warming and tingling despite not having had a drop of alcohol.
***
As it turned out, Ralph was as talkative as he was loud.
I’d originally blamed the music for his shouting, but once it had quieted for the dinner service and he was still speaking loudly, I chalked it up to who he was, and I loved it.
It was clear he was one of those people who was high on life, and his excitement was contagious.
He probably would’ve talked to me the whole night if Archer didn’t step away from his conversation with the chief and a few other men to introduce me.
Of course, I already knew a fair amount about Chief Abrams from living in the same small town as him, and from what Archer had told me, but I pretended to know nothing all the same.
He was different than I’d thought he’d be.
In press conferences, and at community events, he seemed all business—kind, but driven and dedicated to his role.
Somewhat serious. But here, he was cracking jokes and laughing like everyone else, and after a few beers, he was dancing with his tie wrapped around his head, his legs twisting in different directions.
It was a sight I’d never get out of my mind.
I stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching in bewilderment at how comfortable some people were letting loose at a work event, when a warm body snuck up behind me, a tattooed hand dropping to my waist. We hadn’t been so openly handsy in public yet, granted everything else prior to this had been with my family, but I had to wonder if this was part of the act, or part of our truce.
“You going to get out there?”
I glanced over my shoulder, colored strobe lights dancing across Archer’s face rhythmically, and snorted. “Absolutely not. Dancing really isn’t my thing.”
He bent down, shouting over the music. “Is Irish goodbye-ing your thing?”
“That won’t look bad for you?”
“Half of them wouldn’t remember my goodbye if I said one anyway. The other half know me well enough not to expect one or take offense.”
I motioned with my eyes towards the table with all of our things. “Then please, lead the way.”
The second we snuck out the banquet hall’s doors, my ears rang with the loss of the cacophony inside, the cold of the night assailing us as we hurried to my car.
“Thank you,” Archer said, shortly after closing his door.
“For what?”
“For going to that with me? For leaving? Take your pick.” His eyes sparkled in the glow of the dash.
“Of course.” I smiled over at him, and then decided to get the answer to the question I’d been asking myself most of the night. “It’s kind of part of our deal, isn’t it?”
His mouth pitched downward slightly, his eyebrows creasing together. “Yeah, I mean, I guess, but—”
There was a but.
“But?” I hedged. I swear to god, if this man tried to pull some romance movie crap with a “it’s nothing, nevermind,” I’d lose my shit.
“But I actually wanted to be there with you. The whole fake-dating thing hadn’t crossed my mind once.” The sincerity in his voice had the torrent of butterflies in my stomach taking flight. “Was it the only reason you came?”
I shook my head. “No. I came because I was promised two flavors of ice cream and a movie-induced cry sesh.”
Archer narrowed his eyes playfully. “Well, lucky for you I got three, but now that you mention it . . . I can’t remember if I put them in the freezer before we left or not. Might want to hurry up.”
The car was in reverse before he finished the sentence.