Page 19 of Three Reckless Words

Pull yourself together.

“I’m Winnie, but I think you already knew that?” I drop the hand I extended automatically because I remember I’ve got mud on my fingers.

“I remember,” he says. “You introduced yourself last night. I have all your details.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sometimes I space out.” Talk about awkward.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you like this. I tried the door but you weren’t answering.”

“I was out here.”

“Weeding, yes. I have a landscaper and lawn crew for that. They come every week.”

“Well, many hands make light work and all.” I pin on the world’s cringiest smile.

We stand in uncomfortable silence, unsure what to say.

I debate if I should invite him in or see what he has to say first.

Eventually, I decide that if I invite him in, it feels like I’m encouraging him to stay, and no matterhowhot he is, I’d like to get back to my peace and quiet soon.

I’m not in the mood for hot, growly interlopers today.

“So, you must be here for that schedule thing,” I say, looking out across the garden rather than at him. “Have you figured it out? If this place is free so I can stay another week?” I wait a beat and when he doesn’t immediately reply, I add, “I won’t lie, I was expecting you to just call.”

“Your phone is off,” he says blandly.

Oh, crap.

I wince. Good point.

I forgot I put it in airplane mode after I scarfed down those eclairs to block the steady stream of nonstop messages from people ready to have me committed for going full runaway bride.

“Yes, my bad. I forgot I had it off. Anyway, do you have news?”

“Yes and no.” He tilts his head slightly as he looks at me, like trying to piece my mysteries together into a picture that makes sense. “Truthfully, I didn’t just drop by because you want to stay longer. I had a man call my office this morning looking for you.”

A man? What man? Who would—

Oh, no.

No, no, no, this is bad.

Holden or my dad. It has to be.

They’re both equally awful.

“Carroll Emberly,” Archer continues. “I figure he’s your father.”

I close my eyes, turning numb to the tips of my toes.

Partly in defeat, but also because I don’t want to see the way Archer keeps looking at me. Especially the distrust in his eyes, like he’s convinced I’m some sort of danger.

Look out, here comes Winnie, queen of all screwups and burned bridges! Watch out, or she’ll set you on fire, too.

“Ishe your father?” he presses.

“Yes.” I give up and open my eyes again.

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