She hums in agreement, the firelight dancing in her eyes.
"Well, I'm glad you did," I tell her with a grin, running my fingers along her soft skin. "Things were getting boring around Copper Mountain."
She waits a beat before speaking again, still avoiding eye contact. "Tell me about your family.”
"Well, my dad was an electrician too," I begin, watching the flames lick the logs in the fire. "One year, right before Thanksgiving, there was a storm. One of the worst we'd had in years and everyone was caught off guard. Sometimes these storms just come out of nowhere," I trail off, playing with a strand of hair that falls across her neck. "Ninety mile per hour winds–dad went fishing out in the lake, it’s not even a big lake, but the waves were wild enough that the boat capsized and we lost him…”
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs so softly that I can barely hear her.
“It was hardest on my mom. I was fifteen. We lost her too that night. She just couldn’t cope with losing him. They were high school sweethearts. I remember catching them dancing in the kitchen late at night to old band music. They didn't see me, but the way he held her in his arms, so gentle and caring, showed that he knew she was fragile. And she was. I didn't realize it then, but after he was gone, she just... disappeared. She’s older now, living with her sister in a big house down at the end of main street. She has lots of friends and stays busy, but the loss of my father changed her.”
"Archer..." Her soft lips form my name. Somehow, it feels comforting to open up to her. She reaches up and caresses my cheek with one hand. My eyes close as I absorb her sympathy. It's been years since I've spoken these words; only people in town know what happened.
"My brothers and I tried to hold everything together for her, but it was never the same.”
She simply nods before curling up against my side and wrapping an arm around my waist lovingly.
"My mom is beautiful. She has dark hair, long and always worn in a ponytail. When I was young, I loved to play with it," I say as I run my fingers through her hair, lost in the memory.
"I would love to see pictures sometime," Bella says.
"Mmm..." I hum, a small smile forming on my lips as I think about showing her snippets of my childhood. "I'd like that, sweetheart." I trace my thumb across the bow of her lips.
I hope I won't regret opening up to her. I'm not sure what we are or if our relationship will ever be more, but it means something to me that I’m sharing this with her. It's been a long time since I've opened up to anyone.
“What are you thinking?” She finally asks.
“Not thinking anything but how nice this is,” I catch her gaze and speak honestly. “You’re pretty good company to be snowed-in with.”
She giggles then turns over and throws an arm around my neck, her nightgown slipping down her body to reveal the top of her breast.
“Mmm,” I groan and run my fingers along the smooth skin now on display. “You’re a damn vixen, sent to steal all the come out of my balls, sweetheart.”
Her laugh cuts the heaviness in the air after all the talk about our families.
“I don’t know if it’s smart for me to be with you like this, but hell if I want to be smart,” I mutter before trailing my tongue along the top of her breast.
“Archer...” she moans softly, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I turn her face towards mine. I want her to know that I'm giving her something that no one else has. Because whether she likes it or not, I'm getting more tangled up in this woman with each passing moment, and not just because of her beautiful body that I can't keep my hands off of. There's so much more that draws me to her, and in that moment, I realize just how deep I'm falling for her.
Chapter Seven
Bella
When we wake the next morning, the snow outside the window feels endless, falling in thick, steady sheets that blanket the world in white. The quiet, peaceful kind of snow that should feel calming, but instead, it feels like it’s closing in on me. Too much space. Too much time to think.
I turn my eyes away from the window and try to shake off the creeping doubt, but it sticks, wrapping around me like the chill in the air. Whatever happened between Archer and I last night scares me, thrills me, and makes me want to run back to the city at the same time.
That’s when I hear the knock.
I frown. No one just stops by out here. It’s always deliberate. And who would be out in this snowstorm anyway?
I move to the front door, curling the blanket around my shoulders before opening it, I’m greeted by a delivery guy holding a long, sleek box wrapped in expensive gold paper. My stomach drops. I know that box, that wrapping, the weight of it before I even touch it.
“Bella Fremont?” he asks, like I could be anyone else out here.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I mutter, taking the box, feeling the weight of it settle in my hands. I shut the door as the delivery guy walks away, but I stay standing there, staring at the box like it might explode.
