Page 49 of You Cake My Breath Away

Something about a loud engine, a sexy man, and a vibrating seat gets me hot. My nipples firm beneath my top, and my center pulses in time with the music he turns on.

Archer’s mouth moves but I can’t hear him over the whooshing in my head and the thumping of the bass. Instead of turning the music down, he reaches over me, brushing his arm against my already sensitive chest, and secures my seat belt.

“Thanks,” I yell over the tunes.

He doesn’t respond but focuses on maneuvering through traffic on the frontage road to the interstate. Archer lives on the outskirts of town, far enough out he has some land for a large three car garage he uses as a workshop. I’ve never been to his house, but Jessie always talked about the beautiful wood carvings he does in his secret lair.

Archer doesn’t speak the entire time we drive, choosing instead to tap his thumbs on the steering wheel along with the music. I yawn and rest my head on the seat, letting my mind roam. We have a little over four weeks to get the bakery opened, and we still have so much to do. Can we make it through the rest of it without acting on these feelings bubbling to the surface daily?

Chapter twenty-five

Tilly

Something soft brushes my cheek. “We’re here, Tilly.”

Opening my eyes, I blink away the haze of sleep I must’ve fallen under during the forty minute ride across town. A craftsman-style, two-story home with a large porch takes over my vision and I gasp. “This is your house?”

He chuckles and gets out of the truck, running around to open my door. “It needed some work, but it was a good investment.”

I live in the small two-bedroom house Jessie and I bought after we got married. I’d imagined moving to a larger one with some land once we had a child, but that never happened. We weren’t afforded that much time. Part of me wishes we had a kid so I could still have a piece of him, but that same part knows how that kid would feel. Probably the same way I did growing up after my mom passed and my dad checked out of parenting.

The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I press my hand against my stomach.

“Want something to drink?” Archer asks once we’re inside.

“Sure.”

I’m not sure what I imagined the inside would look like, but it wasn’t this. His sleek black couches look like they’ve never been touched, and the monochrome artwork on his walls doesn’t really fit with the man I’ve come to know over the last five years.

“Deidre decorated.” It’s the only response he gives to my unasked question, but it has the effect of an anvil being dropped into my stomach. Of course, she decorated. She lived here with him, cooked meals for him, slept in his bed.

Unbidden, an image of me waking Archer up with soft kisses to his naked chest pops into my head. I touch my lips like the smooth skin has the memory and is just keeping it from me.

“Water or tea?” Archer asks, pulling me from my daydreaming.

I laugh. “Is that even a question? We’re Texans.”

“True.” He pours a sweet tea, adding a few cubes of ice before he passes it to me. Our hands touch and a lightning bolt courses through my arm and heads south. “Let’s go to the garage and I’ll show you the signs.”

I follow him back out the door with my glass, touching it against my neck to cool myself down. His ass looks amazing in the jeans he’s wearing. I catch a glimpse of his taut obliques when he grabs the key from above the door and his shirt rises. I take a quick sip to cover my low groan.

The door opens to a large garage with three massive bays. There’s an older Mustang up on a ramp in the closest bay to the door, and the other two are filled with long tables and items covered by sheets. He leads me over to the work area, crossing his arms and scuffing his shoe like a kid who’s embarrassed to show his teacher his artwork.

“May I?” I ask, touching one of the sheets.

“Go ahead.”

A wooden cross is unveiled when I lift the cover. It’s intricately woven between the center of what looks like a rock. My mouth parts, stunned by the beauty.

“These are…amazing, Arch.”

He purses his lips like he’s uncomfortable with the compliment.

I continue down the line. There are animals, furniture, tables, and even tiny doll houses. Imagining Archer bent over, his chisel working away at a Barbie bed so a little kid can play, warms my heart and turns it into a puddle of mush. I don’t even know if he wants kids, but I’m sure he’d be a phenomenal father.

I’d always hoped Jessie and I would have a girl. A little mini-me I could bake Christmas cookies with at the kitchen island while Jessie decorated the tree.

I bite my tongue, hoping the pain will keep the tears away. I tried to make the bed again this morning. I was so close to turning a new leaf, to restarting my life in a new way. I was sure it was finally time—that I could muster up the courage to smooth out his side of the bed, to fluff the pillows, to take the empty tea cup he left on the nightstand the night before he passed to the kitchen—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

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