Page 33 of Cascade

And then Archer is moaning. I feel his body stiffen and swell and I feel impossibly full, certain there is no more space inside me as he comes, filling me with the hot waves of his own satisfaction. “Opal.” He says my name and sinks on top of me, his hands cradling my face. He’s still inside me as he says, “that was so intense. So, so good.”

I nod, unable to speak. I’m overwhelmed by seeing Archer again, by how I feel remembering him professing his faith in me.

When he finally slides out of me, his wet cock resting on my thigh as he catches his breath, I feel empty and lost, like I can’t catch my breath. “Hold me,” I plead, and he does. He pulls me tight and holds me and he doesn’t let go.

In the morning, Archer sits on a chair in his kitchen fondling my ass while I try to cut his hair. I have an array of sharp scissors in my work bag, and I revel in the chance to run his dark strands between my fingers. “How short do you want it?”

He shamelessly rests his forehead on my boobs and says, with a muffled voice, “Professional length. I’m making some changes at work.”

“You mean you’re going to stop blaring country music?” I giggle at the memory of him belting out his favorite terrible lyrics when he doesn’t know I’m watching.

“Never.” He sits up straight. “No I mean I need to figure out what’s going on with my business so I’m not working around the clock.”

“I do like finding you at work late at night, though.” I close one eye and start snipping, taking the hair off his neck and trimming around his ears so his hair is still long enough for me to tousle but short enough that he looks like an accountant. “I’ll gather my stuff up when we’re done here and get out of your hair. Ha! Your literal pile of hair.” I kick at the locks piled up on the kitchen floor.

Archer grabs both my hands. “Please stay,” he tells me.

I feel uncertain, like I should be asking Indigo to put me up in the Inn instead of imposing on my sort-of-boyfriend. But if I’m honest, I don’t have the money to pay for a long-term rental on top of my own rent while my house airs out.

Archer plants a kiss on my forehead and stands, heading over to the sink to rinse his neck. “You don’t even want to check the mirror?”

He shakes his head. “I have faith in you, Opal.” He grins, one hand on the back of his neck, looking so comfortable, so at peace with himself. “Stay,” he says. Even though I’m terrified, I nod my head yes.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Archer

NOVEMBER

I convince Opal to come with me to Thanksgiving. Her house still reeks of skunk, and every few days she says she will hire a fumigator and move back, but I distract her with sex. I’m good like that. I like having her around, and I like the idea of bringing her to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. It just feels right.

I know she’s trying hard to be with me, how much she has struggled at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of her and didn’t. The way I keep explaining to her, between her crazy schedule and my too-big work load, our extended sleepover is the only way we see each other anyway. We’re like ships crossing in the night sometimes, and I’m kissing her goodbye as she climbs into bed most mornings, or vice versa.

I’m not sure what her plans for Thanksgiving would have been otherwise, especially since Indigo actually closed the Inn to go see Sara’s extended family for the day.

And so, since Opal doesn’t have anyone in labor and the cat seems quite content perched on my kitchen table and staring into my back yard, Opal really had no reason to say no. Not that she didn’t try to get out of it.

“Abigail will absolutely not feel nervous with you there, babe,” I assure her, squeezing her hand as we walk into town. I insisted that my parents don’t want her to bring a thing, but Opal seemed horrified at the idea of showing up empty-handed.

We walk into the co-op hand in hand, and Mary Pat’s eyebrows shoot up so high I worry they’ll get stuck up there. “Archer Crawford,” she says, flinging down her copy of this week’sOak Creek Gazette.“I was just reading about you in the paper.”

“And what does Ed have to say about me this time,” I ask, grabbing for a small bouquet of orange mums. Opal tosses in a jar of local honey and stands quietly, waiting for Mary Pat to spill the beans.

“Oh, the usual. You’re behind on people’s business taxes AND personal taxes, causing the ruin and downfall of the whole town, and running around buck naked instead of only half naked, despite the chill. That’ll be $45, dear.”

Opal makes a concerned face, but I wave a hand at Mary Pat. “Only the naked part is true, and that’s just because I got sprayed by a skunk.”

“What in the hell were you doing within spraying distance of a polecat, Archer Crawford?” Mary Pat seems ashamed of me, but I drape an arm around Opal’s shoulders and pull her in close for an awkward hug.

“This one here had a pair of them fighting on her back porch. They were dragging the gas grill across the patio, can you believe it?” Mary Pat shakes her head. “I went out there to break it up and…well. The rest is history.”

She swipes my membership card, still shaking her head, and says, “Levon and I had skunks going at it on our porch one year. The racket they make!”

“How did you hear them above your own racket,” I tease, winking at her and grabbing the flowers. “We’ll catch you later, ok?”

I squeeze Opal’s hand and walk out of the store. She exhales long and deep when we get outside. “I’m just not used to that,” she says.

“What? Mary Pat?”

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