Page 62 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“Mmm-hmmm, that’s for sure what this is.” I tease as my cell vibrates from my pocket. Stroking Willa’s hair, I pull out my phone and check my message. “They’re off the plane.”

“They’re here?” Willa squeals, pulling away so quickly my fingers tangle in her curled hair. “Ouch, Archer.” She jerks her head forward to no avail.

“Don’t Archer me. You’re the one who leaped like a cat over a bucket of water.”

Shapely blonde brows furrow. “Bucket of water?” Willa mouths.

Smoothing the curls on the back of her head into order, I press a kiss to her creased forehead. “Don’t ask me to explain Texasisms.”

“Thank you for being here with us and trying to reign me in.” She taps my chest. “I’m so excited to have three full days with my mom and Dev, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m sad this will put a damper on all our alone time.”

Especially since we decided to keep our romance under wraps until Willa can ease her mom into the idea. I hook her front pant pocket with my index and middle finger and tug her closer. “Yeah?”

“I mean, I’m kind of a fan of kissing you, Archer Thomas.” She walks her fingernails up my chest. “Plus, you still haven’t copped a feel. I’m getting a little antsy waiting.”

“If we weren’t surrounded by strangers, I’d offer you a little preview where we stand, gorgeous.” I bend for a final taste of her mouth, only to stop my urge as a new wave of passengers trickle into the claims area. “Hold that thought. I see a familiar face heading our way.”

“Really?” Cradling Clem, she spins on her toes and releases another squeal, before weaving through bodies to her mom and brother.

If I had any doubt of my feelings for Willa, they are obliterated by the pure joy warming me when Willa hugs her mother and re-introduces her to Clementine. Sharon Hawthorne bursts into happy tears, taking my favorite little monkey into her arms and smothering her with all the love and affection that sweet baby deserves every day.

“Hey, man,” Devin greets me as Willa hangs back, her mother still doting over Clem.

“Good to see you again.”

“She looks good, just like you said.”

“She is good.”

“I should warn you my mom might ride your ass this weekend.” Devin turns his back to the Hawthorne women and levels me with a stare. “She knows what a huge help you’ve been to Will, but she’s a little put off by your advanced years.”

I choke on my spit. “Advanced years. Damn, I was just buying the lie that turning thirty doesn’t make me old.”

“Archer?” Willa waves to me as she pulls her mother along.

Screwing his face into a comical grimace, Devin slaps my shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll go find our luggage.”

I haven’t had to ‘meet the parents’ since I was nine years old. Considering that it was more about whether we would play at Leah’s house or mine than boyfriend approval, this is new territory. I’m a bit out of practice, but my pulse settles at Willa’s glowing, eager smile.

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Archer Thomas.”

“Sharon,” Ms. Hawthorne preempts. Balancing Clem on one hip, she offers me her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot of stories.”

“Ah, well, your daughter tends to exaggerate, so—” Clementine whines, throwing her body away from Sharon and reaching for me.Well, hell.

Tossing an uneasy glance at Willa, I smooth my palm over Clem’s head and lean into her space. “Hey, angel, is that your grammy?”

“It’s just that she doesn’t know you yet, Mom,” Willa explains as Clem continues whining, and I’ve never felt so guilty.

“I’m sorry, Sharon. I shouldn’t have come. Clementine and I—”

“Spend a lot of time together. I know.” Sharon nods with a gentle smile. “I had two babies. I know the drill.” She leans my way, signaling I take Her Highness, which I do. Gladly.

“I told you, Mom. Archer is a baby whisperer.”

“We have an understanding, isn’t that right, little Miss Clementine?” I haul Clem up my chest so we’re face to face, flinching as her grabby hands whack my cheeks, her tiny fingers using my stubble as her personal sensory board. It’s her favorite thing to do when she’s in my arms.

Sharon tugs at Clem’s corduroy dress, smoothing the hem around my arm. “And what understanding is that?”

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