Page 39 of Sunrise Arrows

“Archer makes me happy,” I shrug, spinning and hopping from one foot to the other on my way to the edge of the bed. I sit down on the plush comforter and reach for the shoe organizer under the bed. Holding up a brown boot and a white one and putting the white one back when Briar points to the other, I tug them on and repeat, “He makes me so incredibly happy, Briar.”

“I can see that,” she smiles. “You’re practically glowing just talking about him.” She sits down beside me and rests her head on my shoulder. “It makes me happy for you, Tins. I just wish you two hadn’t lost out on so much time.”

It was as I thought when I confronted Hunter. There’s anger there about what was done—more for what he put his twin brother through than for me—but I’m making peace with it. Archer and I have found our way back to one another and in the end, that’s all I care about.

Putting my head on hers, then lifting it back up so we switch to an order better suited for our height difference, I assure her, “We’re better off for the time apart.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I wish I had gotten to see you punch him.”

I bark out a laugh and tell her, “His wheezing was a thing of beauty. You’d have loved it.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” She lifts her head up and studies me for a moment then snaps her fingers. Laying back on my bed, Briar stretches her arm out to the nightstand and with the tip of her fingers pops Archer’s hat off the lamp I’ve kept it on. She sits back up and plops it on my head, fussing with the ends of my hair until it passes her inspection. “Now, you’re perfect.”

The doorbell rings and she glances at the clock. “Damn, he’s punctual. It is exactly six o’clock. I’m gonna head out there and make sure Doom and Gloom aren’t reading him the riot act. Take your time.”

After she leaves, I get up from the bed and stand in front of the mirror that hangs above the dresser. I lift my left arm and turn to the side, checking that my tattoo is covered. When there isn’t a peek or even a shadow of ink through my pink dress no matter how I move, I’m satisfied but still nervous.

I trail my fingers along the outer swell of my breast. Briar and Skylar joke about it being my talisman but they’re right. Not so much for luck but in keeping me soothed and grounded. Like my music, it’s one of the pieces of Archer that I carry with me. The ones closest to my heart, that I know I’ll never forget. A reminder of what was and now, what could possibly be again.

A measured exhale leaves me and I hit the switch to turn off the lights. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Where the hall opens to the living room, I stop and stare for a moment, my breath caught in my chest as I look at Archer. A basic t-shirt, jeans, and boots have no right to be so devastating. But the way his shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and molds with the taut lines of his back has my mouth turning parched. How well the muscles of his thighs and butt are shown in his jeans doesn’t help. The boots and the hat… I’m a sucker for a country boy—for this country boy.

My time appreciating him only lasts for a second or two. As if he’s aware of my presence at his back, he turns around and softly compliments, “You look stunning,” making my knees weak with his black framed glasses on.

I step right up to him, and when I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, he reaches behind me and taps on the brim of the hat, making the front lift up. His fingers drift into my hair and he murmurs, “Hi, Shortcake.”

“Hey, Superman.”

“Are you ready? Or do you need a minute?”

“I’ve had more than enough minutes. I don’t need or want anymore.”

He bends down in a way that has his hat blocking us from view. In the small space between us, he replies with a natural candor, “Then give me all your minutes, baby,” kissing me in place of punctuation.

It’s over too soon and it’s my turn to whimper, though mine is born from feeling bereft at the loss of him. He merely smiles at me and taps the brim of my—his—hat back down, commenting, “Told you it looks better on you.”

The fingers in my hair finally fall free and reach down to lace with mine. I let him guide me to the door, telling Mikey, John, and Briar, “We’ll be?—”

“At the ranch,” Archer supplies, opening my front door and pulling me ahead of him to walk out first.

John laughs, “Cute, Miss Jacobs, but you know we’re going with you.”

“You most certainly are not,” I scoff, beginning to laugh until I realize he and Mikey are dead serious. “No, absolutely not. Y’all aren’t comin’ anywhere near where we’ll be.”

“Miss Jacobs,” Mikey starts but I cut him off.

“No. Y’all were here for the party, that was it. I’m still on vacation and that meansno bodyguards.”

“We’re—”

“No!” I loudly repeat. “No, no,no!”

I stare them both down until John’s shoulders slump a fraction and he mutters, “Fine, but take this,” tossing me his cell phone, which I fumble in my haste to catch, barely managing to recover it before it hits the ground.

I don’t have a purse so I just hold onto it tightly and say, “Thank you.”

“Use it to check in with us,” he stresses.

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