Page 213 of Three Reckless Words

His fingers slide through mine as we walk toward the brand-new wall Archer had built around the property, roughly where the forest begins. His very own bee-protecting privacy wall with small nooks for hidden cameras.

I feel a lot better already.

“I figured it was coming,” he says. “I called them last week to see how things were progressing. They told me they expected results back soon. Yesterday, they told my receptionist you’d hear something by afternoon.”

“And you wanted me here when I got the call…”

“I know this place means a lot to you. I wanted to celebrate somewhere that makes you happy.”

God, this beautiful man.

I’m about to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him I could’ve gotten the news anywhere, as long as he’s with me—when I notice something else.

Four new bee boxes, glistening in the sun, tucked in a smaller enclosure not far from the wall’s metal gate.

“You’ve been busy,” I say.

With his hand in mine, he pulls me toward him. “The wall wasn’t the only renovation. I made plenty of room for the bees next season so you won’t have to go chasing them through the woods.”

I was lying when I said I was happy before.

Thisis happy. Freaking giddy.

Everything keeps falling into place. I still don’t understand how I’m actually sharing it with an incredible man who does little things like this for the bees.

For me.

As we move closer to the new boxes, I see each one has a small note painted across the side, unmistakably written in Archer’s blocky handwriting.

“Bee Brave?” I read it out loud as we approach, smiling. “Arch, was that you?”

He shrugs, though he obviously did.

There’s a grin breaking through his broody face. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, the smile slips through, transforming his face like the sun.

He gives me this reckless, heady joy that makes me want to laugh along with him.

And when I see what’s on the next few boxes, I fall more in love.

Bee Happy, the next box says.

Bee True. I keep reading down the line.

And finally, as we get closer to the final box,Bee Mine?

This one has a question mark.

Hmmm.

I look at it several times just to make sure I’m not misreading anything—I’m still a little afraid that nasty fever caused brain damage—before I look up at him, confused.

“Be yours? Archer, I already am.”

So much more than he can ever know.

I can’t imagine belonging to anyone else. Like it or not, he’s stuck with me now.

Archer’s smile fades into a blank, paper-thin mask, and something else, too.

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