Page 57 of The Backdraft
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 inopaque 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.”
