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“It’s not my birthday anymore,” he says with a groan, greeting me in only his boxers.
“It’s your birthdaymonth,” I emphasize.
“Oh, man. You’re one ofthose.” He laughs, reaching for the coffee pot.
“Did you really expect anything else?” I flash him a wink, then hand him a plate of French toast, sausage, and bacon.
“Nope.” He happily takes his food and mug. “Thank you. Let me cook for you tomorrow night. I want you to try my meatballs…”
I arch a brow, then lower my gaze down his happy trail that leads me to his…
“…in homemade marinara sauce,” he adds with a sly smirk.
“Oh. Damn. But fine. I still owe ya that deli date too. Let’s aim for next week so I don’t keep forgetting.”
“Right. What’d you say I had to try again? Turkey something?” he asks, taking a seat at the table.
“Upside down turkey and gravy sandwich,” I confirm, sitting across from him with my food and coffee.
“Sounds good.” He licks his finger when he spills syrup on himself. I watch, mesmerized by how his tongue slides along his knuckle, wishing more than anything that he’d use that tongue on me.
“Everything there is, you can’t go wrong at the deli,” I tell him, then clear my throat. “So, we’ll pregame here around seven, then go to the pub around eight, then later, we’ll come back for cake.”
I’ve told him the itinerary already, but I repeat it so we’re on the same page.
“And why can’t I know what kind of cake you made?” he asks around a forkful.
“Because that’d ruin the big reveal!” I smile wide, excited for him to see what I’ve done.
“You and your parties.” He shakes his head with an amused grin.
“Better get used to it. I’m ago big or go homekinda gal.”
He smirks. “Trust me, I’ve noticed.”
After we finish eating, Archer cleans the kitchen, and I take a shower. My guard is still up, and I keep my blinds closed in case that creepy guy returns. I’ve seen the SUV twice in the past couple of weeks, but that’s it. I don’t know if those detectives are following me because I’m a person of interest or if it’s someone else.
Archer’s been overly protective when we leave the house, which I find adorable and sexy. Keeping my distance has been hard because my feelings for him grow stronger every day. Though he’s explained himself several times, I see the way he looks at me. I can feel his walls crumbling—or at least that’s what I like to believe.
I curled my hair in beachy waves, my makeup is on fire, and I’m wearing one of my favorite dresses with heels. It took hours to get ready, but Archer’s reaction made it worth it.
Right at seven, Gemma and Tyler arrive. Jerry and Belinda are babysitting Scarlett tonight so they can have a good time and celebrate with us.
“Ahhh, you two made it!” I squeal when Noah and Katie arrive.
“By some miracle,” Katie says, blowing out a breath as I hug her. “Kinda nervous to be away from the twins for the first time.”
“And you’re doing great, Mama. Your parents are gonna spoil them and Owen rotten like usual,” I reassure her.
Soon, some guys who work at the gym and my employees from the boutique walk in.
“Alright, let’s start this party right. Green apple and watermelon shooters.” I bring out a tray and carry it around until everyone has one, then I take my own and hold it up. “Happy Birthday, Archer. May this be the greatest year of your life.”
Everyone cheers and downs their shots.
Music plays in the background as we drink more and share stories about Archer. He keeps an arm around my waist, keeping me next to him, and even though my brother watches us, he doesn’t say anything. When the group gets rowdy, we decide to Uber to the pub. Once we arrive, the party continues.
“If you two are hookin’ up, you need to hide it better,” Gemma whispers in my ear as we walk to the bathroom. “Tyler’s watching you two like a hawk.”
