Page 76 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“I know the feeling.” Archer’s hand goes to the small of my back, a kiss to my temple, as we join the others moving toward the music and laughter of this evening’s party.

Balloons, streamers, and twinkling lights fill the packed ballroom as a band keeps the crowd entertained. It’s reminiscent of prom, but with a much better date.

Archer dips low, speaking in my ear so I can hear him over the music. “I feel like I’m at prom.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Then I guess we should dance, shouldn’t we? Wouldn’t be prom without awkward dancing.” He grimaces, and I laugh as he leads me to the dance floor after we find a table to leave my wool coat and purse.

Archer’s awkward dancing is him spinning me around like the ballerina I am. His hands stay glued to my body, and his mouth finds my exposed shoulder more than a few times, not that I mind. We know no one in this room, which is freeing somehow. Leaving us to enjoy each other from the first drink to the second trip down the colossal buffet to the tenth conversation we’ve had with other revelers about how ‘wonderful’ everything is and how ‘enchanting’ the evening is. By the time we’ve made our third trip to the buffet—another Maine lobster roll for me and Jasper Hill cheese fritters for him—we made pseudo-friends with Miranda, the realtor, and her date Simon, a financial advisor.

“I don’t see a ring. Are you two serious?” Miranda whisper-shouts as we wait for our wine by the bar.

For some reason, my gaze drops to my empty ring finger, a flutter taking hold of my gut at the prospect of wearing a diamond ring from Archer. “Oh, um, yeah, we’re pretty serious.”

“You sound unsure, honey. You better snatch him up if you want him because a man like that…” She hums like she’s eaten the most delicious bite of food known to mankind.

I glance over my shoulder at Archer. He’s an irresistible vision in his dark suit. So different from all the blond boys I’ve dated. Though I smile as a memory surfaces, I never played with my blond Ken doll, preferring how the one with the jet black hair looked with Barbie. I guess young Willa had it right all along. Archer laughs at something Simon says before tipping his drink back and turning just enough to catch my stare. He smiles into his beer and sends me a wink before turning to his new friend.

“Phew, is this ballroom hot or what?” Miranda elbows me with a smile. “Never mind what I was saying. That man’s eyes aren’t straying anywhere. Lucky girl. You two make a gorgeous couple.”

“Zinfandel for the lady in red.” The bartender flirts, handing me my drink. I add an extra buck tip to the jar for his boosting my confidence.

The first notes of a famous ballad fill the room on our walk back to Archer and Simon. Weaving my arm through Archer’s, I stretch to my toes and kiss his cheek as he turns. “Dance with me?”

He removes the drink from my hand with a charming smirk and leads me to the dance floor, where our bodies sway, not an inch of air between us.

My nails tease the hair on his nape. “Thank you for tonight, Archer. This has been perfect.”

“Have I told you how sexy you look tonight?” His hands slip lower along my spine.

“I think so, but feel free to mention it again if you must.”

Our noses brush before his lips feather over mine. “All right. I’ll consider it.”

Rolling my eyes, I tug on his neck and bring his lips to mine.

Over the PA, the emcee says, “All right party people, grab your champagne and get ready for the countdown, two minutes until midnight.”

“So soon?” How have three hours passed so quickly? I find myself frowning as the end of the night nears.

A server with a tray of champagne flutes stops at our side, and Archer takes two. “Tell me your wish for the new year.” Archer floats a flute around in front of my face teasingly.

My mind swirls with hopes and dreams for Clem, for myself. “I just want things to be easier. Is that a horrible wish?”

“After your last year, not at all.” He hands me my drink.

“What about you?”

“That’s easy.” He touches my glass with his. “More nights like tonight with you.”

My cheeks flush as I smile.

“I’m serious, Willa.” Archer snags me by the waist. “Stay in Vermont. Give us a chance.”

We’ve spent the last few weeks living together and never discussed my plans for the next semester. I appreciate the way Archer doesn’t push me to make choices before I’m ready.

“Thirty seconds!” the emcee announces, and rambunctious cheers fill the room.

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