Fall For Me Page 12

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Archer

  “I told you he was pissed,” Rhys said later that day.

  I adjusted one of my earbuds. “Yeah, he sure is.”

  “He's really pissed Phoebe's your old friend. He actually said that makes it seem real,” my cousin added.

  “It is real,” I practically growled.

  I would never tell anyone how it started with Phoebe and me because that was beside the point now.

  “Please make sure he does not show up at the wedding.”

  “I will. It's a long flight. I don't think he'd want to go anyway.”

  “Has he ever been here?” I asked.

  “I don't think so. I came to visit a few times when your parents lived there, but he always said it was too far.”

  “Does he seriously think I'm going to run this branch of the company into the ground? I've already told you my plans.”

  “I know. You know he’s cynical as hell. He can't look at the long run, so he's just digging his heels in.”

  “Look, Off the Grid, the alternative energy company down in Diamond Creek, is making money hand over fist. They're a leader. I'm going to partner with them, and we're going to reconfigure everything. We don't need to mine. It's unnecessary.”

  “You'll have to make a serious investment,” Rhys warned.

  “I know, and we have the money.”

  “I know.”

  “So, I'm going to see you this weekend, right?” I asked.

  “I wouldn't miss it. If my granddad shows up, I'll kick him out.”

  After we finished the call a few minutes later, I set my phone on my desk. I looked out over the view. It was so familiar, and I loved it, yet it all felt fresh and new. My emotions felt sharp, the edges of them crisp. The mountains were covered in snow, jagged and bright against the blue sky.

  I looked at my phone screen again and opened my voicemail. I’d been putting off listening to my great-uncle's voicemail solely because I hated the sound of his voice. That familiar dread curled in my stomach, but I tapped the message to listen because I refused to avoid him completely.

  So, Rhys tells me it's your childhood friend. So romantic. What the fuck? You're nothing but a coward. You know it, and I know it.

  The urge to flee rose inside, prickling up my spine. I held the memories at bay, clenching my jaw against the panic that started to swell.

  I hope it lasts. It's a good thing your grandmother loves you, just like she loves your parents.

  The line went dead. At that sound, I swallowed. It was a solid five minutes before I got the panic under control.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Archer

  Phoebe stood at the kitchen counter. She was wearing a pair of leggings with these fluffy purple socks and a pink sweater that hung down to her hips. Everything about her was soft, and I wanted to slide my hands under that sweater, over her silky skin, and tease her nipples until they were tight little peaks.

  “How do you like them?” she asked.

  I was a little slow to reply to her question.

  “So?” she prompted.

  I masked my lustful reverie by taking a quick swallow of my beer. “How do I like what?”

  My fiancée pressed her lips together, her ponytail swinging as she shook her head. “How do you like your eggs? Scrambled, over easy, or poached. We have a really nice poach pan.”

  “I love poached eggs.”

  “You do?” Her lips spread into a smile.

  It was two nights before our wedding, and I was about to lose my mind. I was regretting my stupid plan to save sex. I mean, really? Did it actually matter? The downside was I was feeling stubborn because we’d made it this far. We only had two more nights.

  Phoebe's smile sent my heart into a flip in my chest. I had gone from lusting after her to falling for her so hard and fast I didn't even know how to face it. I kept thinking I could manage it, telling myself it wasn’t insane because we'd known each other forever. I didn't remember life without knowing Phoebe. In the years we hadn't been in geographical proximity and had grown apart, her absence had been acute the entire time.

  Still oblivious to my train of thought, she said, “Poached eggs, it is.”

  She spun away and fetched her nice poaching pan that she’d mentioned when she moved in.

  “I've never had beer and eggs together,” I commented as I stood from where I'd been sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

  She opened the refrigerator and fetched a carton of eggs. “Are there rules about that?” she asked.

  “I don't think so.” I finished my beer and crossed over to rinse the empty bottle in the sink and put it in the recycling bin underneath.

  When I turned back, she asked, “How many?”

  “Four. Are you going to have any?”

  “Yes, I'm the one who wanted eggs,” she replied, giving me a skeptical side-eye.

  “Are you going to poach yours too?”

  She blinked, eyeing the poaching pan, which had six poaching spots. “Yes.”

  “Do you like poached eggs?” I teased lightly.

  Her lips twisted as she shrugged. “You know I do. That’s why I have a favorite pan.”

  I couldn't resist anymore. I walked over, resting my hands on either side of her on the counter. She blinked up at me before her eyes slid to the egg carton on the counter just beyond where one of my hands was resting.

  “I was going to make eggs. I'm cooking.”

  “Not yet,” I murmured.

  I dipped my head, nuzzling into the sweet curve of her neck. I heard the subtle sound of her breath hitching, and lust sizzled through me. I tried to grab the reins of my control, but they slipped loose. I needed to taste her. She smelled so sweet.

  I pressed hot, open kisses along the side of her neck, savoring when she trembled slightly in my arms and arched into my touch.

  “Archer,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hmm?” I murmured against her skin.

  She shivered. “I'm cooking.” Her voice came out in a whimper.

  I lifted my head. “I can't wait.”

  I couldn't resist kissing her. One of her hands landed on my chest as the other slid up around my nape and tugged me closer. Her tongue danced out to tease with mine. Within a single second, I was on fire for her, hard and desperate.

  I slid my hand under her sweater, gliding over the soft curve of her waist to lightly cup her breast. With just the lightest touch, I traced my thumb over her nipple. She gasped into our kiss before breaking free and taking in sharp pulls of air.

  “Two more nights. And we already—” She stopped abruptly to suck in more air.

  “We already what?” I prompted.

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “Well, I mean, there was this morning in the shower,” she murmured.

  This morning in the shower was amazing. I’d teased her to a climax with my fingers. And then she'd knelt in front of me and sucked me off. I’d come all over her chest before dragging her to her feet and washing it all off.

  “What else?” I prompted again when she didn't elaborate.

  Her eyes narrowed as her blush deepened. “You know what I mean.”

  Phoebe wasn't shy with me, but she was shy talking about it. I loved it. I moved my hand regretfully away from her breast.

  “We can make it two nights. Don't you think?” she asked.

  I dragged in a breath. “Yes.”

  “Are we spending tomorrow night together?”

  I eyed her. “Yes. Why are you asking?”

  She shrugged. “There's that superstition about seeing each other the day of the wedding thing. If we wake up together, then we’ll see each other.”

  “Do you really think that means anything?” I really didn’t want to spend a night apart from her, even if being with her was a form of torture.

  “I don't know.”

  “Maybe we should.” I heard myself saying while my body practically screamed aloud in protest. “Where a
re you going to stay?”

  “I can stay with my parents.”

  “Or I can stay at a hotel,” I offered.

  She shimmied out from under one of my arms, shaking her head. “This is your house.”

  Phoebe went and made us the poached eggs. I woke in the middle of the night hours later. I was curled up behind her, my cock hard and aching, nestled against her lush bottom. Fuck me.

  Rolling to the side, I glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. I told myself I should run away from her and go take a cold shower. But if all I could have at this moment was to be curled up against her, I would take it. I didn't know how, but I managed to fall back asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Phoebe

  “You look beautiful.” My mother smoothed her hands over my shoulders as she stood behind me.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I had never been one of those girls who dreamed about my wedding. Oh sure, I’d wanted to find love. But here I was, having a wedding with a photographer and everything.

  Archer insisted on it, saying if we didn't do that, then we'd be stuck with bad photos in the media. He told me this way we managed the narrative. Whatever that meant. My belly was all fluttery, and my pulse kept thrumming along at high speed.

  Madison had planned an actual wedding for me. She promised me it would be beautiful. She'd even dragged me out dress shopping. I'd gone with whatever she suggested, which turned out to be a cream silk slip. It rested at the tops of my shoulders before dipping into a curve in the front with the top of my back exposed. It was fitted but not too tight.

  Madison had done my hair, insisting I had to have someone do it. She was good at many things, I had discovered. She’d pulled it up into an artful twist, somehow pinning it with only a few pins. She’d pulled out some locks to frame my face and insisted on a little hair spray.

  “I don't wear hair spray,” I'd announced.

  “I don't care. You need it. You can't have your hair fall down in the middle of your wedding,” she’d countered.

  My mother turned me around. “I love this.”

  “My dress?”

  Her lips curled in a warm smile. “Your dress is lovely, but I’m talking about you and Archer. You two were the best of friends before, the kind of friends not everyone gets in life. Now you're getting married, and I see the way he looks at you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He loves you, and he really gets you.” She squeezed my shoulders before her hands fell away.

  My breath was shaky when I drew it in. “Is this crazy? Is it too soon?”

  “No, not at all. You've known Archer longer than any friend you've ever had. Maybe you haven't seen each other for a while, but it's not too soon.”

  “A while is over a decade, Mom.”

  Her eyes were understanding and way too perceptive. “Sweetie, it's okay.”

  “Is it really, though? Am I crazy?” I sort of repeated myself.

  “I guess we're all a little crazy when it comes to love, but are you crazy to marry Archer? No. You know him far better than many people know each other when they get married.”

  “But he's wealthy now.”

  My mom shrugged. “And his parents were wealthy when he was a little boy. It didn't matter then, and it doesn't matter now. Money doesn't define a person. If it does, then you don't want to marry them.”

  I took a shaky breath. “And what if…?”

  My mother's hands landed on my shoulders again. She squeezed gently before her touch slid down my arms. “What if, what if, what if? There are thousands of what-ifs in any marriage. If you really want to back out, I will support you, but I don't think that's what's happening. I think you're afraid because Archer really means something to you.”

  My heart felt too big for my chest with emotion swelling into my throat. I nodded without even thinking. My mother knew me well, and she was exactly right.

  Her eyes shifted beyond my shoulder. “You have five minutes, and I need to go get seated. Your father is waiting to walk you down the aisle. Shall I walk you out to the entryway?”

  I gulped in a breath and nodded. All of my what-ifs and doubts were bouncing against each other, but I didn't want to back out of this. That might’ve been the most terrifying part of all.

  Only two months prior, I hadn't been engaged. Now, I was engaged to marry my best friend. I walked out with my mother and watched as she disappeared through the wooden doorway into the front of the church. My father's eyes twinkled as he looked down at me.

  “Are you ready, dear?”

  “You almost never call me dear,” I returned.

  “Well, now seems like the time to call you that. I love you, Phoebe,” he said solemnly.

  “Oh, my god, Dad.” Emotion coursed through me, and I sucked in a breath, trying not to cry. “I love you too.”

  He slipped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me in a quick hug. “Phoebe, girl, let's do this,” he said when he stepped back. “I trust Archer, and I know he'll be good to you. Are you ready?”

  My chin was dipping in a nod before I could think. It was as if my body knew the answer even though my mind was confused and my heart was vulnerable.

  I never meant to fall in love with Archer. Oh, I had already loved him the way you love an old friend, the kind of friend he'd always been to me. But this?

  Willow Brook was crowded with wedding guests and even a news truck from Anchorage. This was madness.

  The next half hour passed in a blur. It was almost an out-of-body experience. Except for when we said our vows. Archer had wanted to adjust them.

  Among other things, he said, “I will cherish and love you as the best friend you've always been. Now, we take the next step in our lifelong friendship.”

  The words were so true, and it felt so real. I remembered his eyes, silver smoke, staring at me, and my heart feeling as if the doors had been kicked open. I couldn't hide behind them anymore, not with him.

  I remembered his lips meeting mine and the electric shock reverberating through my system when he dipped me into a real kiss. I was breathless by the time we broke apart. Then I was giggling, and it was all okay, and now I was married.

  I met a jumble of people from his family, many of whom I'd met before. Sometime later in the reception, his cousin Rhys smiled down at me, so similar to Archer.

  “Well, Phoebe, here you are stealing Archer’s heart. Although maybe you’ve always had it,” Rhys said.

  I managed to smile, offering, “Maybe.”

  The reception continued, and I carried on in a haze. Madison had succeeded wildly, somehow finding the perfect balance for the wedding I wanted, or rather the wedding I hadn't known I wanted. The reception was catered by Firehouse Café and the new pizza place, and the food was delicious. It had a casual feel with a touch of formal to it. She'd found a local band and deejay, and there was fun and dancing.

  The only thing that marred the evening was the unexpected appearance of Archer’s great-uncle.

  I'd never met the man, unlike some of Archer’s other family who had come up to visit when we were kids. The second I heard his voice, my spine stiffened. Archer’s hand had been resting on my hip, curled around the edge as he laughed at something.

  “Archer,” his cousin Rhys said, a hint of warning in his tone.

  I felt the press of his fingertips when he tensed at my side. I knew him so well. When I looked up into his eyes, I could’ve sworn I saw a flash of panic skip through his gaze. His eyes closed for longer than a blink, but just barely. His great-uncle stood across from us.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” the man said.

  I looked at Archer before my gaze bounced to his cousin. He stood in a slouch, his eyes narrow. “I don't think you were invited to the wedding, Granddad.” His tone was light, but it was laced with a sharp edge.

  “I wasn't. I'm crashing the reception. After all, Archer will be taking over the entire division I manage. I might as well do a las
t check-in before he officially takes over,” he explained.

  No one had introduced him. I just sensed that was who he was.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Archer’s grandmother barked. She wheeled over in her wheelchair.

  Archer’s hand was still on my waist, but his touch had gone stiff. His fingertips were pressing into me hard enough that I was concerned.

  When Archer’s great-uncle looked toward his grandmother, I glanced up at him, sliding my palm over to lace into his fingers and carefully bring his hand off my hip. “Are you okay?” I whispered, turning to him.

  He gave an imperceptible nod. “Fine.”

  Archer’s great-uncle was fully focused on his grandmother. Rhys glanced at us, leaning toward me. “Get Archer out of here,” he whispered, low and clear in my ear.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I said to Archer. “Walk with me, please.”

  Archer stared down at me, and I could tell my request had puzzled him, but he went along. I led him through the crowd, his hand stiff and cold in mine. He was quiet and seemed caught in a shuttered space inside his own head. Someone stopped to congratulate us, and it seemed to snap Archer out of whatever was going on in his mind.

  It was my friend Jonah, another firefighter. He was a funny guy. He and Archer had hit it off when they bonded over their shared love of the recent influx of breweries in Alaska.

  “When are you two gonna disappear? I mean…” Jonah glanced at his watch, waggling his eyebrows as he looked up.

  I laughed as Archer flashed a grin, seeming almost back to himself. “Soon, very soon.”

  Jonah clapped Archer on the shoulder as he continued by, aiming for the cake table in the front. I kept my fingers tightly laced into Archer’s as we walked toward the hallway on the far side where the restrooms were.

  I was relieved when the door to the hallway swung shut behind us, muting the voices. A server passed by with a tray of champagne, offering congratulations. When I got to the sign that indicated the women's restroom, I still didn't release Archer’s hand. I pulled him in with me before closing and bolting the door.