Page 47 of Three Reckless Words

Fuck me, I hold on tighter.

“Thank you. Thank you, Archer!” Her voice cracks. “This means so much to me, you don’t even know.”

True.

Right now, I only know one thing—it’s been too long since I’ve had a woman in my arms when this little troublemaker feels this good.

She’s a total stranger. Aclient.

I’ve made a business arrangement with her, and now she’s—

She’s burying her face in my neck like I’ve just saved her life. Clinging to me like I’ve rescued her from drowning or burning alive.

But I haven’t, I just agreed to take her money like any other paying guest.

I promised her shelter from the storm in the most miserly, selfish way possible.

Every instinct I have howls at me to keep her where she is, but the thought that I haven’t done anything to deserve her gratitude feels shit enough that I ease her back, my hands on her waist.

Her eyelashes are damp as she looks up at me, curiosity sparking in her eyes. It reminds me of the night sky captured in emerald. Her lips part on another breath too much like a low moan, and dammit, I’m still holding her waist.

She’s so deliriously soft in my hands, so close.

If I just lean down and claim her bottom lip with my teeth, I’ll see how she sounds when she—

The door opens and Colt bounds back in.

“You guys, it’s so purple! Like a blueberry smoothie but brighter,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it, not seeming to notice the fact that I was about two seconds away from breaking every rule about professional relationships.

But he notices a second later and stops mid-step, staring at us like he has to rub his eyes to believe them.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I let Winnie go and she stumbles back, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Her cheeks are redder than a fire truck.

Though her eyes are still bright with fresh tears, there’s no mistaking it when she looks at Colt. She’s still wearing the same confused, happy smile she had before.

The smile I stupidly painted on her face like the grabby, horny old goat I am.

“Sure is, Colt,” she says. “If you like, you can take some home, but you’ll have to strain it yourself. You can do that through a piece of muslin or a cheesecloth, though. It’s easy enough. We can also check the extractor for a little sample.”

“Grandma would love it. Right, Dad?” He looks at me for permission.

Anything made with love or artsy passion is Mom’s religion.

“She would,” I say slowly.

“Great. I’ll go check the jar,” she says. “There won’t be much in there yet, but it’ll give you guys a taste, and you can always come back for more.”

Fuck no.

The last thing I need is to come back with her here alone. This visit proves I can’t be unaccompanied with this woman.

“We’ll wait by the car.” I hate how damn awkward I sound.

Colt gives me a weird glance that almost wrinkles his nose, but he doesn’t say anything as Winnie heads to the shed and I lead him outside.

I have just enough time to get behind the wheel and let Colt climb in the passenger seat before Winnie returns with a mason jar quarter-filled with the most purple honey I’ve ever seen.

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