Page 61 of You Cake My Breath Away

“Shit,” he says when he gets back into the truck.

“What happened?”

“Blowout,” is all he says as he grabs his phone.

“Oh.”

“Damn it.” He chuckles and slams the phone down on his dashboard. “No service.”

“I’m sorry, Arch.” I rest my head on my hands, elbows on my knees.

“You have no reason to be sorry.”

“We wouldn’t be stuck out here if I didn’t want that bakery case.”

“We wouldn’t be stuck out here if I didn’t forget to replace my spare tire.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him. “And even if you weren’t with me, I still would’ve come to get you that case. It was my decision, not yours.”

I hear his words, but they don’t have the effect I need them to. I still feel crappy that we’re stuck with no service as a storm rolls into the hill country.

A truck appears behind us, their lights bright against the darkening sky.

“Stay in here.” Archer gets out of the truck to meet the driver.

“Y’all broken down?” I can hear the older man ask.

He doesn’t look like a serial killer, but neither did Ted Bundy. Archer sizes him up too, and I can tell he knows he could take him if something went wrong.

“What type of tire do ya need? I have a few in my barn up the road.”

Him and Archer chat for a few minutes about the truck while I sit in the warmth of the cab. The wind has picked up, and the sun is speeding toward the horizon like it can’t wait to go to sleep after a long day.

Archer leans through my open window. “Mr. Bob has graciously offered us use of his barn apartment for the evening if he can’t find a tire.”

“What if he’s a killer?” I whisper.

“You think I’d let anything happen to you?”

I nod. “Any person in their right mind would save themselves.”

He laughs and grabs my hand, placing a kiss on my knuckles. “I’m not sure whether to be proud or offended you would ditch me. If it helps, I’d happily fight off a pack of wolves—or a serial killer disguised as a sweet old grandpa—if it meant you made it safely home.”

Bob disappears over the hill to go check his barn. Archer rests his forehead against mine, and exhales. “I’m so glad that guy backed down and you got your case.”

“Me, too.” I nuzzle his nose and kiss him until we’re both breathless and panting. I almost forgot what it felt like to be teenagers making out in the front seat of a truck.

Too soon, Bob returns with bad news. No tire to match, and with the cell service down and night descending, calling for a tow isn’t an option. Archer looks to me to decide on whether or not we are staying in Bob’s barn. I nod and follow him out of the truck.

“What about the display case?” I ask. “Someone might steal it.”

“We can move it into my garage for the night,” Bob says. “Have y’all eaten yet? My wife Minnie cooked.”

On cue, my stomach grumbles. Archer chuckles and helps Bob move the display case. We’re all crammed in the front of Bob’s old, two-door Chevy, and a month ago I would’ve hated every minute of being so close to Archer, but now? Now, I can’t get close enough.

Bob’s wife, Minnie, cooked a feast for us and tried to send us to the barn with extras. We politely declined, and using Bob’s truck, drove the mile down to the ranch hand’s apartment attached to the barn. It sits on the back half of their ten-acre property, surrounded by stables and fields of cattle. The animals are all in the pen when we walk in, and they bay, shifting around like they’re greeting us.

“This way.” Archer leads me up the stairs past a chest.

All my thoughts of relaxation grind to a screeching halt when he opens the door and turns on the lights, illuminating the singular bed in the middle of the room.

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