Page 65 of Reckless Kiss

“No more information, Maggie. It’s a surprise,” Archer said.

He’d dropped his hand to Erica’s leg, his palm resting on her thigh. Archer poured the tea one-handed and pushed a cup and saucer her way. The pretty blue and white flowers on the dainty cup were a contrast to the sturdy mugs in the cottage.

“I know. They’re tiny, right? Three sips, and the tea is gone. I have eight cups when I have breakfast here, but Maggie won’t hear of having a mug in her kitchen. I guess we’ve all got our old school traits.”

“What’s yours?” Erica asked.

“I’d have to think about that. What do I still do now thatI’ve always done?” Archer was talking out loud, looking to the ceiling and tapping his finger to his chin.

“Family, no matter what, I suppose. I could never walk away from being a Turner, even though I happily stayed away from my childhood home. I’d do anything for Jason, Luke, and Daisy.”

“Admirable, Archer,” Bailey said as he entered the kitchen. “You have another name to add to the list now.”

Archer turned to Erica and kissed her cheek. “I do,” he said.

Should she tell him now, Erica thought? Now she wished Maggie had outed her. It would be a lot easier than at the vicarage.

“Here is your food,” Maggie said, placing two plates in front of them. “Enjoy.”

Erica looked at her cheesy scrambled egg on a bed of spinach. Cherry tomatoes cut in half were in with the eggs giving the whole plate a look of decadence and healthiness at the same time.

“This looks fantastic. It certainly beats my usual toast and marmalade,” Erica said.

“Exactly,” Archer replied, pointing his fork at Maggie. “Who wants toast when you have this?”

Two slices of bread popped out of the toaster, and Bailey dropped them onto a plate. He smeared butter and then jam.

“As toast offends you so much, I shall take this to my office,” he said in a haughty tone.

Archer and Maggie giggled as Bailey walked away.

“Is he okay?” Erica asked, feeling guilty about her comment.

“Yeah. Bailey has a routine and likes to stick to it.”

“That’s his old school trait,” Erica muttered beforetaking a forkful of eggs. She resisted moaning after her spectacle eating a petit four at the formal dinner with Archer’s aunt. Instead, she squeezed her thighs together at the buttery, cheesy eggs and closed her eyes.

“You eat like you have never tasted food before,” Archer commented.

“I’m not a great cook, fairly plain and basic, so if someone so much as puts pepper in a meal, I swoon.”

“I’ll remember that when I need to apologise.”

“Is that likely?”

“I’m a man, so I’ll likely do something that will need some kind of sorry.”

The three of them laughed at his comment. When breakfast was over, he put the dishes in the hot soapy water to wash up. Maggie told him to leave the dishes to her and get going to the surprise date. Erica loved their relationship. It was easy going with a healthy dose of ribbing, even from Bailey, who came back in with his plate of crumbs and then grabbed the bacon warming in the oven Maggie had put to one side.

Archer told her they would walk to where they were going. It would give them time to digest their food before they got there. Curious about what he had planned, she had convinced herself he was taking her to a fete where there were fairground rides.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

They arrived at a pale blue painted wooden shack with wetsuits hanging outside. The door was wedged open. Archer went inside and returned with a man with shaggy hair still wet. His wet suit was peeled down to his waist, showing off his tanned chest. His wiry frame looked strong.

Archer beckoned her over to where they were standing on uneven ground, a mix of pebbles and dirt.

“You need to wear a wetsuit for what we’re doing. The water can be cold out of the sun. Do you want a wet suit to the knee or the ankle?”

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