Page 50 of Wild Flower

“We’ve been dating ever since I was mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty,” he says smoothly. “Which she obviously got from you.”

Maybe a little too far.

My mother’s eyes turn to narrow slits, a snake coiling to strike with her suspicions. “Whendid you start dating my daughter?” she repeats, but Archer doesn’t answer, instead he sweeps my hair aside and kisses my neck, which might be just as offensive to my mother as not answering her question.

Her eyes cut to me:Who is this man? How long have you been dating? Were you two together when you went out with Carl?And then her eyes cut to Finn, who I hear walking up behind us.And who is he? What was he photographing?

“This is Archer’s friend,” I say quickly, before the two of them can both claim me and officially give my mother a heart attack. It’s altogether believable that Finn would be a photographer doing a session. “He needed models for, uh—”

The waiver in my voice causes my mother to strike. “Could we speak in private, Rebecca!”

Archer’s arms tighten over my shoulders. There’s no chance in hell he’s letting me go.

“It’s a project for a class I’m taking at the university,” Finn jumps in. “Becca was telling us about her flower farm, and—”

Us?I swallow hard, hoping my mother doesn’t read too much into his phrasing. It’s a deceptively simple word, but loaded to the nines.

“I’m sorry, but this is private property,” my mom interrupts. “I would appreciate it if you—bothof you—would please leave the premises immediately.”

“Mom!” I cut in. “These are my guests and my flower farm and you can’t just—”

“I said, I’d like to speak to youprivately!” she cuts me off, stepping over the aisle of flowers and carelessly breaking some of the blossoms.

“Hey! Watch out for the rare irises!” I yelp. They aren’t irises, but that’s what my mom calls them because they’re similar in shape. She’s never cared to know their real name.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Laurel,” Archer interjects, still holding me against his chest. “Obviously we’ve overstayed our welcome. We’ll be leaving.”

“Thank you,” she snips, glad someone’s finally listening to her.

Archer shifts, letting go of my arms. Only, he bends low and picks me up from below, lifting me like a bride he’s about to carry over the threshold.

“Woah!” I yelp, wrapping my arms around his neck to keep from falling.

“We’reallleaving,” Archer clarifies, stepping carefully over my flowers, unlike my mother. He nods to Finn to follow suit, carrying me toward the vehicle they came in.

“Excuse me!” My mother snaps, angrily. “I’d like to speak to my daughter. Rebecca?”

Archer tilts his face to me and in a soft, kind voice, he says, “Rebecca Evangeline Laurel, would you like to speak to your mother right now?”

I almost laugh at the mocking way he says my full name, making fun of my mother as he speaks just loud enough for me to hear. I shake my headno, and he smiles like he already knew that.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Laurel,” Archer says, raising his voice so she can hear it this time, “but your daughter isn’t available. We have a photoshoot and we’re losing light.”

In several powerful strides, we’re at the car. Archer unlocks it and places me in the backseat like a princess, winking at me before shutting the door. Finn ducks into the passenger seat in front of me, holding all of his camera gear as Archer strides over to the driver’s side.

“I hope next time,” Archer calls out to my mom who’s staring at us in stunned silence, “you’re in better humor for guests.”

I crouch down, not wanting to see the steam emanating from my mother’s ears like a furious cartoon about to blow a gasket.

“This is a beautiful piece of land,” Archer continues, “and what your daughter’s done with it is absolutely stunning.” He drops into the car and starts the engine. “Your mother’s a real piece of work,” he says, pressing the gas and peeling out of my parents’ driveway like the badass my mother fears he is.

“I’m mortified,” I say, slinking further down and covering my face.

“Don’t be,” Archer says, reaching back to grab one of my hands and pulling it and me forward. He kisses the back of my wrist as he navigates onto the main road with only one hand on the wheel. “Nobody talks to my girl like that. Not even her mother. Got it?”

He laces his fingers in with mine. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to my mother in my defense, not my father, not my sister, no one.

“Where to, Finn?” Archer asks. “We’ve probably got thirty minutes of sun.”

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