Page 95 of Beautiful Thing

“I believe you. And I saw you getting teary-eyed when he asked you to help him blow out his candles.” I smile.

“Teary-eyed?That, I’ll never admit to,” Archer mumbles peevishly and I laugh.

“Oh, come on,” I prod him. “You’re a man who’s in touch with your emotional side. It’s cute.” I take the last sip of my hot cocoa and set the empty mug on the window sill beside me.

“Cute?” He scoffs. “I don’t think I’ve been called that since I was a kid. Most people just call me grumpy.”

I lean back in my chair and observe him for a moment. His ‘big, scowly bear’ thing is a persona. Can’t people see that? Anyone could see it if they’d only take a moment to pay attention instead of judging him.

He’s always the first to jump in and help his siblings with their home improvement projects. Whenever a friend needs help moving furniture, he shows up with his truck. He’s hired more staff than he even needs at the hardware store, just to give some of the teenaged guys around town their first jobs. And I won’t even get into all the ways he’s helped Sky and me.

A confession softly drifts from my mouth. “Y’know—I don’t like when people call you grumpy. I’d call you something else.”

He raises a bushy eyebrow at me, finishing his hot cocoa and sitting his mug on the window sill next to mine. “Something like what?”

I scan his handsome face until the butterflies in my tummy become too much. When I can no longer bear the nervous feeling, I get up and grab his thesaurus from the bookshelf.

“Sulky…?” I mumble a few moments later, spinning back to him with the book open in my hand. “Nah. That’s not it,” I decide, flipping through the pages. “Moody…? Petulant…? Broodish…?”

I turn each synonym over in my mind. None of those word choices feels quite right. I scan through the book again.

“Wait—introspective. Yeah, I like that one. Introspective. It suits you.” I lower back into my chair, smiling to myself. I continue reading through the options in the thesaurus. “Thoughtful…Grounded…Steady…Protective…”

Oh, that one hits hard. Protective. I feel it in my chest.

I look up and catch Archer staring. My mind goes blank. With those dark, fervent eyes, the man puts me under a spell.

My gaze drifts around his face, appreciating every one of his features. I love his thick, dark hair. His wide, soft mouth. And his beard. Oh, I love his beard.

“Handsome…” I hear myself say quietly. “So handsome…and sexy…and perfect…”

I’ve never been brave enough to say these words aloud, but I’ve been thinking them for years. And now that they’re finally out in the open, I feel lighter somehow.

Archer’s stare goes even darker as he looks at me. “Is that what you think of me, Belle?” he grits out, his voice so low and rough it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

I catch my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod. “Yes. You’re the most handsome man I know.”

For a long quiet beat, Archer drinks in every inch of my face. “There are a few things I’d like to call you, too,” he rumbles, reaching a large, calloused hand across the table.

“Oh, yeah?” I pause. I stare at his hand before setting my palm in his and letting our fingers intertwine.

“Dazzling…Stunning…Ethereal…” Archer gazes at me, seemingly captivated. “But more than anything, I’d like to call youmine.”

My pulse beats urgently at the base of my throat and my mouth goes dry. Archer wants me. It’s obvious. And I want him just as much. I know it’s wrong, but the hesitancy I’m supposed to feel just isn’t there right now.

Only talking, Layla. We promised each other, only talking tonight. I know we’re entering dangerous territory but deep down, I don’t care.

Yet still, I make one last attempt at being mindful of the line we’ve drawn in the sand. “Maybe…just for tonight…?” I question.

Understanding passes across Archer’s eyes. I’m offering him a compromise of sorts. A halfway point between his convictions and mine.

Conflict burns in his stare—values versus desire—but his lust quickly wins the battle.

“Just for tonight…” he responds with resignation, giving in to the pull between us.

Archer gives my hand a soft tug and I go to him willingly, straddling him in his recliner, my knees bracketing his strong thighs.

He takes my cheeks into his palms and stares into my eyes. I grab unto his wrists like I never want him to let go.

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