Page 40 of Beautiful Thing

With an eyeroll, I grab the napkin from his hand and swipe the cloth along the corner of his mouth. At the same time, my eyes slowly trace the outline of his sexy lips and I wonder what they’d feel like trailing across my collarbone.

My eyes guiltily flick up to Archer’s and the heat in his stare makes my insides jump. Because there’s no way he’s not readingmy thoughts right this minute. The pink hue coloring his ears gives his own impure imaginings away.

“Thank you,” he mutters. Then his tongue peeks out and discreetly wets his lips in a way that makes my clit throb.

I really,reallyneed to get laid.

Someone loudly clears their throat. I glance to the other end of the table and find Karli grinning like the Joker, her head tilted to the side as she observes us.

Ugh.

I quickly shrink into my seat, trying to make myself small as my cheeks burn up.

Thankfully, dinner is over soon. We all clean up together, everyone getting their hands dirty. The guys take care of the dishes, while us women wipe and sweep and get the kitchen and dining room back in order. The whole time, I’m careful to keep an eye on Sky who’s running around with Stella in the hallway.

Then Mrs. Brighton goes around the kitchen, making sure everyone gets a bunch of leftovers. I eagerly accept the plastic container she offers me because tonight’s barbecue-glazed meatloaf was incredible.

As the woman continues to portion out the leftover food, I feel a large hand briefly graze the small of my back, instantly setting loose a wave of butterflies in my tummy.

“Ready to go?” Archer asks me in a low voice, his eyes discreetly darting around the room.

I respond with a nod—the way my tongue’s tied up at his touch makes it impossible to speak. He cautiously guides me and Sky out of the room.

Soon, we’re in the entryway near the door, getting ready to leave. After I’ve bundled Sky back into his snow suit, Archer’s mom breezes in and scoops him out of my arms. As I reach into the closet for my jacket, I watch as she and Grandma Brighton take turns hugging my little boy and saying goodbye.

I love watching Sky receive all this love. It fills my heart to the brim. I don’t have a large family and my parents don’t seem to have the grandparent gene, so most of the time, it’s just Sky and me.

I’m so distracted watching my son get loved on by the Brighton women that I don’t even realize that my hair is caught in the back of my jacket. Before I can yank the strands out, I feel large hands, gently freeing my hair from my collar.

I glance behind me and my eyes meet Archer’s. My knees almost give out beneath me. All I see is the little, private grin he offers me before respectfully backtracking out of my personal bubble.

Help. Somebody, send help.

Heat rises to my cheeks and I glance around the small entryway for witnesses. Inez is hunched over a few feet away, helping Stella get zipped up. Ziggy is seated on a bench by the door and Darius is crouched in front of her, tugging her boots onto her swollen feet. Mason and Felix are chatting about work as they button up their coats. Basically, everyone is in their own world, not paying us any attention.

I turn my focus back to Archer. I don’t know if I’m reading this all wrong, but it’s almost like he’s…flirting with me. But that would be ridiculous, right?

Either way, I need to know for sure.

My nagging curiosity gives me the guts to cross over the cordial line in the sand between us.I take a not-so-respectful step into his personal space, rising onto my tiptoes to whisper by his ear.“Why have you been giving me that funny look all night?” I know I shouldn’t ask the question but I can’t help myself.

He’s silent for a moment and I'm almost certain he won’t answer me. But then he bends close and whispers back. “Because you’re beautiful, Layla...”

If I thought my stomach was fluttering before, it’s a full on hurricane in there now.

I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. It’s a satiny maroon thing I picked up when it was on sale at Daphne’s vintage shop a few months back. It clings to my waist and hips, ending at my knees. I’ve paired it with some sheer black nylons and the dangly earrings Archer gifted me the Christmas before last.

“This dress is really nothing special,” I argue. Sure, it’s a nice change from my usual jeans and sweaters, but it won’t get me on any catwalks anytime soon.

Archer’s eyes squint at me in what appears to be confusion. “It’s not the dress, Layla. It’s you.”

I swallow, really not sure how to respond.

“You’rebeautiful, woman.” He says it withforcethis time. I can practically feel the conviction beaming off of him.

My eyeballs start prickling. So I let my gaze fall to the floor.

Archer’s strong fingers lift my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “You know that, don’t you?”

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