our one-on-one talks.
He stares at me, his masculine face with his strong chin unreadable as the sun sets around us. “How does it feel?”
My gaze falls, and I play with my hands in my lap, fighting a shy smile. “Incredible.”
“That’s a huge accomplishment, and you worked hard for it. Be proud of that.”
I peek up at him, that blush creeping up my cheeks, and repeat, “Thank you.”
He signals to the bag. “Open it.”
I silently nod, slowly grab it, and shake the bag, like I do with all my gifts, silently guessing what it could be.
It’s heavy. Something rattles.
I have no guesses.
With Archer, who knows?
It could be a bomb, and I wouldn’t be surprised.
My smile widens as I pull out the gold tissue paper. I peek into the bag before pulling out a liquor bottle.
A bottle of Hennessy.
I play with the bottle in my hands, moving it from one to the other. “Cognac.”
“Cognac.” He nods, a smile flicking on his lips.
I hold it out toward him. “A reminder that we should never drink this together again?”
“That’s not what the gift means.” He jerks his head toward the bag. “Keep going, babe.”
I bite into my cheek and start withdrawing the rest of the items—a gift card to the coffee shop where I blocked him in, a beginner’s guide for driving handbook, and a jewelry box … a blue Tiffany’s jewelry box.
Random.
“What’s all this mean?” I ask.
He gestures toward the gifts. “We met at the coffee shop. You forgot how to drive and slammed on your brakes—”
“To prevent a murder,” I interrupt.
“To apparently prevent chipmunk murder.” He chuckles, waiting for me to open the jewelry box.
“What’s this mean?” I ask, holding up the box. “From what I remember, we didn’t rob a jewelry store.”
He scratches his cheek. “We didn’t, but those gifts weren’t enough.”
You being here is enough.
I inhale a deep breath, and we fall silent, the only noise me popping the box open. Gasping, I carefully remove the necklace, holding the chain between my fingers as I take in the gorgeous piece. Two charms with engravings hang from the chain—a long bar with my name and a small circle with M.S.W. Next to the charms is a small, sparkling diamond.
“What … what is this?” I stutter, admiring it.
“A necklace,” he states.
“I know that,” I say with a laugh. “This … this is beautiful.”
And so thoughtful.
This isn’t something he purchased for me at the last minute.
He planned it, had it custom-made—from Tiffany’s.
“Thank you, Archer,” I say, clasping the necklace in my fist and holding it to my chest, warmth spreading through it.
He subtly nods. “You’re welcome.” He slides his chair back and stands.
My mouth drops open.
Is that it? He came to drop off the gift and bail?
He holds out his palm. “Here.”
Relief rushes through me, and I’m hit by a sudden giddiness.
A soft breeze whirls around us, and loose pieces of tissue paper blow across the table. I hand over the necklace, and my palm returns to my chest, hoping to settle my raging heartbeat. He stands behind me and sweeps my hair off my shoulder, bunching it along one side of my neck. His hands are cold, and my breathing turns ragged when he fastens the necklace.
He brushes his fingers along the nape of my neck.
“You’re back to your natural hair color,” he whispers, grabbing a strand of my hair and curling it around his finger.
“I needed a change.”
Rather, I needed to go back to who I was. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and made multiple visits, and I am in the ombre stage of returning to my natural hair color.
“It reminds me of our night together.” He gives my neck a gentle squeeze and returns to his chair, turning to face me. “You’re beaming.”
Even if I wanted to hide my smile, I couldn’t. “It’s been a good day, and your gift, I can’t thank you enough. Seriously, this was so thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome.” He thrums his fingers against the table. “I tried to get here earlier, but it was visitation day for Lincoln, and I was running behind. I came as soon as I could because I didn’t want to miss the chance to give you that. It looks beautiful on you.”
Who is this Archer, and where can I get him full-time?
“Want to stay?” I blurt out, shocking both of us. I scramble to grab the Hennessy bottle and hold it up. “Hang out and have a drink, for old times’ sake?”
His jaw clenches. “I think we both know that’d be a