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“I’m going to be sick.” I turn away and clutch the steel railing as wind whips my face, creating flurries of my hair so the ends slap my skin. “Oh god.”
“Wehave money. And technically,neitherof us worked for it.”
“Archer…”
“So if you think you have less right to spend it than I do, then you’re full of shit.”
“Archer!”
“Weown shares in this stupidly big boat. Andweown part of a plane.Weown at least one of the blades on a chopper. Oh!” Headds, far too enthusiastically, “Andweown a house in Copeland already.”
I turn from the railing, shaky and ill. “What?”
“I already told you about it once.” He chuckles. “While you slept.”
“While I slept?”
“Yeah. I felt bad for lying, so I told the truth in an extremely safe, controlled way, so when we eventually had this conversation and you shouted at me about it all, I could smugly say, ‘I already told you.’”
“I don’t…” I swallow the nausea in my throat. The dryness that might choke me to death. “Archer… this isn’t how people inherit wealth.”
“Yeah, well…” He flashes a wide, toothy grin. “We did. Oh, and that waterfall you like to visit in Copeland? The property we keep sneaking onto right next to the mayor’s place?”
“No.” The blood drains from my face. My legs turn weak, and my knees knock together, threatening to send me sprawling to the floor. “Archer, no.”
“Home sweet home, babe.” He ducks in insanely fast and presses a loud, obnoxious kiss to my lips. “Your Daddy Mayor is your next-door neighbor. And yes,” he adds quickly, “he knows. He knows more about your financial status than you do. And yeah,” he continues with a smirk, “he takes great pleasure knowing that, when you find out, you would freak the fuck out. He smiles about it every time we’re all in the same room and you have no fucking clue. So?—”
“Mr. Malone?” Calum’s friendly voice cuts through the waves crashing in my ears. His eager smile, bright enough to intrude on my peripherals. “Uh, sorry, sir. But you asked me to get you when Curtis called back?”
“Curtis?” I lick my dry lips and study Archer’s profile. The tattoos that sneak along his shoulders and up to flirt against hisneck. The stubble on his jaw, and the slight bend to the bridge of his nose that indicates someone, at some point in his life, landed a punch.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Archer responds. It’s like we’re discussing who is buying dessert, and not, like… an entire island. “You’re marrying me anyway. Whether you like it or not.” Ducking in quickly, he presses a kiss to the corner of my lips. “Love you bunches. Wanna go for a swim after I’m done on the phone with Curtis?”
“W-who is Curtis?” I attempt, an entire exercise in willpower, to toss aside the money, the interest, the expensive modes of transport and the fact I may or may not end up living next door to the mayor who considers me his daughter. I set all that aside and work on reeling in that singular line of thought. “Who is that, Archer?”
“He’s the caterer for our wedding.” He grabs my hand and drags me away from the railing. He doesn’t dare leave me up here on my own. God forbid I catch a case of the vapors—or whatever it was Victorian women suffered—and pitch over the side to my death. He leads me toward the bartender with a big mouth, though he has no clue that he’s the snitch, then he brings me down the stairs and back onto the main deck.
“Wait…” I twist again, glancing back at the way we came. “Why were you up there?”
He leads me through the large, glass door and back into the bar.
“Archer?” I try to tug him back, but he’s too strong. Too large. “Why were you even on the top deck? No one else was up there. The chopper wasn’t there. And there wasn’t even a chair to sit on. So why?—”
“Calum?”
“Yes, sir.” The kid, because surely that’s all he is, dashes around his bar and picks up a cordless phone. Bringing it back to his boss, he glances across at me and winks.
Archer presses the phone to his ear and makes sure to hold my hand so I can’t run away. “Curtis? What have you figured out for me?”
“Why do we need catering?” I try to peel Archer’s hand off mine. Literally folding his fingers back, but all I manage to achieve is his playful smile and his arm swinging over my shoulders so he can tug me closer. “Calum?”
NowCalum has the presence of mind to shut his trap, lifting his hands in that universal symbol for surrender, then he backs away to make himself busy elsewhere.
“You can’t get anything off the island until I’ve decided.” Archer’s jaw clenches, his stubble bristling over the movement. “Yeah. It still has to be contained, so I’m not risking it. Crab?” The word comes out as a question, surprise, then he looks at me and grins. “You want fresh crab on your wedding day, Minnnka?”
“I thought we were having jerk chicken?” Why am I scowling? Why am I pouting?I don’t even like jerk chicken!
“You prefer the chicken?” He nods, just once, and pops a kiss on the center of my forehead. Then into the phone, he answers, “We’ll do the chicken and the crab. Easy.”
