Page 34 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Nolan? Daddy?”

I whip around at Eli’s quivering voice. He stands at the back end of Archer’s Expedition with Clem’s stroller turned around backward, his child’s muscles only capable of pulling rather than pushing the large wheels over the gravel. Clem’s cooing as she plays with her rattle calms my nerves. She’s safe.

“Nolan’s fine, baby.” I push up from the ground and hurry to Eli’s side before Archer can answer, careful to keep my blood-smeared hand from view. “He had a little accident, but he’ll be all right.”

“Is he bleeding?” Eli leans around my legs. Archer still holds Nolan tight, whispering words at his temple.

“He is. Your dad’s going to fix him right up though, okay?” I smooth my clean hand over his hair. Behind us, Nolan continues to whimper about the blood on his arm. “Hey, Eli? Can you do me a favor and grab Clem’s diaper bag? I left it on the picnic table.”

His gaze wavers from me to his brother and dad, unsure, before he nods and scurries off.

“Archer? We need to clean him up. Do you have a kit?” Nothing. “Archer, do you have a first aid kit?”

His head swings my way. “Yeah, sorry. Um, in the back of my SUV. There’s a plastic bin filled with supplies.”

Unable to open the back of the vehicle thanks to the bike rack, I move to the passenger side and poke my head in, finding the blue plastic bin shoved in the back.

“I have Clemmy’s bag.” Eli taps my thigh, and I wiggle down from Archer’s giant SUV.

“Thank you, buddy. Think you can find the wipes in there for me?” I give him the random job so he’ll stay busy. “And a water bottle? I’ll be right back for them.”

Archer’s tan back greets me when I return. His shirt now firmly wrapped around his son’s hand. I wish I could say I was a strong enough woman not to look, but so help me, I’m not. I can’t resist feasting upon the broad shoulder and tapered waist I missed the night I was too sick to notice his beauty. Nor do I miss the tattoos inked on each shoulder blade: words, or maybe names on the right, and an outline of Texas with what looks like an oil well? I bite the inside of my cheek, curious about that story.

“Will?” Archer snaps me out of my inappropriate gawking, and I rush to his side.

“Sorry.” I pop the lid open and produce bandages as Eli joins us with the water bottle and wipes. “Did you check the cut? What happened?”

“Yeah, just a surface cut. No big deal, right, bud?”

Nolan sniffs, and I offer him a smile.

“He was trying to pull my bike from the rack, but it got stuck. He tugged and somehow his hand slipped down to the chain as the bike came loose and the sprocket sliced into his skin.” Archer releases a deep sigh. “Then everything tumbled down on him.”

Guilt blooms in my chest. “I’m so sorry. He wanted to get the bike for me. We were talking about how I never learned to ride a bike, and—”

“Don’t.” Archer’s hand cups the side of my neck, stealing my words as he draws me close. “It was an accident that you had nothing to do with.”

Like the kindling of the fire, embers erupt as his stare holds mine.

Searching my eyes, his touch disappears. “I should walk him over to the restrooms so we can clean him up. Do you mind watching Eli for me?”

“No, no, of course, not.” I lock the lid on the kit and hand it over. “Go, he’ll be fine.”

While Archer and Nolan are gone, Eli helps me clean the blood from my hand using the baby wipes and bottled water from Clem’s bag.

“He doesn’t like blood.”

“Nolan?” I verify, and Eli nods. “Does anyone?” I tease. “I mean, it’s important, but it’s pretty icky, huh?”

“Nolan kicked me and made my nose bleed once. He started screaming, and Momma came running into the room with Kurt, all upset.” Eli’s story might be scary if he didn’t shrug like the tale was another day in the life of the Thomas boys.

“What in the world were you two doing that caused your brother to kick you in the face?” I curb the chuckle fighting for freedom.

“We were practicing karate.”

“Oh? You guys take karate?”

His face scrunches like I’ve asked a ridiculous question. “No.”

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