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  “Should I take my shoes off?” My eyes shifted to her feet, which were encased in polka-dotted purple socks.

  “Sure.”

  Those socks were so Phoebe. She loved bright colors when she was little, often wearing vibrant and whimsical clothes. It was funny to see the preference carry over into adulthood.

  She took the bag from me. After I shrugged out of my jacket and shoes, I followed her over to an island that served as a natural divider between the efficiency kitchen and the open living space.

  I glanced around, commenting, “This is nice.”

  When I met her eyes again, she rolled hers. “It's tiny. I'm sure wherever you live, you have a fancy-schmancy house or condo or apartment. I don't even know. Where do you live, Archer?”

  “I live in Willow Brook now.”

  A wash of pink bloomed on her cheeks. She didn’t reply and opened the bag to peer inside. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I'm moving here. Have I not made that clear yet?”

  Her doubtful eyes lifted to mine, and I could feel her searching as if she was trying to read into something I was hiding. I had nothing to hide. Well, except for the fact that I was afraid I was already falling in love with my old friend. This was so unexpected and unsettling.

  “How long are you going to stay?” She lifted out one of the takeout containers and set it on the counter.

  I reached for her hand as I slid my hips onto a stool. “Phoebe, come here,” I added when she turned to face me. I reached for her other hand, and she stepped a little closer.

  She stood between my knees, her worried and doubtful eyes searching mine. Emotion rose swiftly inside. I wanted her to understand, to trust I wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I reached out to you because I planned to come back. I know we kept in touch sporadically, but I always wished I'd done a better job.”

  The sound of her swallowing was audible. Then she licked her lips, and I wanted to kiss her. I shackled my need and curled my hands around hers. They were cool, and I sensed she was nervous. “I told you why I needed to get married, but if we're going to do this, I need to be here. And I want to be here. I really do.”

  She took a quick breath. “But don't you need to be there? Where do you live? I don’t even know.”

  “Most recently, Seattle. You know our family’s business started in Fireweed Harbor. We have offices in Seattle as well. I like the city, but I'm not deeply attached to it. Willow Brook has always been home to me because it's where I grew up. Sure, I'll need to travel for business, but with the internet these days, I don't need to be in one spot. I can work from here. On the occasions that I need to travel, I will. If you want, you can come with me. I know you like your job, but you don't have to work.”

  “I'm working,” Phoebe interjected quickly.

  She'd already made it clear she didn't feel comfortable about the financial imbalance between us. I wasn't sure how to reassure her that I didn't give a shit about that. Not even one bit.

  She stared at me, catching and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. The need to kiss her pressed inside, burning hot. Fierce need seemed to be a permanent state whenever I was near her. Not practical, but realistic nonetheless.

  “Okay. Archer—” She began before stopping abruptly.

  “What?” I prompted.

  “This is feeling really real.”

  “It never was a joke,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

  She started worrying her bottom lip again. Fuck me.

  Leaning forward, I brushed a kiss over her mouth. She went still as I drew away, a deeper flush blooming across her cheeks and her eyes widening slightly.

  “What was that for?” she whispered.

  “I thought maybe you could stop chewing your lip,” I teased.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “What?” I knew what she was asking, but for reasons I didn't understand entirely, I needed her to explain it.

  “Getting married. And are we really getting married?”

  “For the purposes of this, yes, we are.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. “I'm over my ex. I don’t have to make a point to Tasha anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “But I do think it’d be awesome if you closed the mine,” she added earnestly.

  I laughed softly, and she started giggling. A moment later, we were both laughing so hard we were wiping tears from our faces. There was no one better to laugh with than Phoebe.

  When we finally sobered, she brushed her tears away, and I dragged my sleeve across my face, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a gust. “I forgot how good it feels to laugh with you.”

  “I know.” Her eyes were twinkling.

  As we stood there staring at each other, it felt as if candles were being lit in the air around us, one after another, the flames racing into each other and creating heat and sparks that lifted and shimmered around us.

  “It'll be okay,” I said quietly.

  “I know. I trust you,” she whispered.

  “Plus, I don't want to get married to anybody else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that.”

  “I'd kind of sworn off relationships. They’re too complicated, and I'm not a catch.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” I exclaimed.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I'm a hotshot firefighter, so most guys consider me a tomboy. They're either intimidated or want to be all tough and dominating and show me who the man is. It's just that after the whole thing happened with Tasha, well, trust is kind of hard to come by.” Shadows chased through her eyes, and my heart twisted sharply. “But I trust you.”

  “Same.”

  Fuck, I wanted to kiss her again, but I held back. I was quickly discovering this was a balancing act. Faced with the unsettling intensity of my response to her, I also knew I needed to proceed with caution. I was relieved she at least admitted there was chemistry between us, but I didn't think she was ready for more.

  Despite our friendship or perhaps because of our friendship.

  “Our food's going to get cold if we don't eat soon,” I commented, nudging my head in the direction of the takeout bag. I squeezed her hands, releasing them as she stepped back and rounded to the other side of the island.

  “You get the rest of the food out, and I'll get the plates. What did you get anyway?” she asked, shifting into busy mode.

  “It's kind of like a buffet setup, but not really. They give you something of everything from whatever the weekly theme is when you're getting takeout. So, I’m not really sure what all we have.”

  “I love this! We should do this every week,” she said with a lopsided grin in my direction.

  Minutes later, Phoebe was sitting at an angle across from me at the island with her feet hooked around the rungs of a stool. She opened up the takeout containers, oohing and aahing over each option.

  “Wow, this is really good,” I said after I finished tasting the spicy tempura baked sweet potatoes.

  “I know. I like the plan to rotate the themes, but they could do the Caribbean one every week,” she replied between bites.

  My heartbeat kicked harder as I looked over at her. I took a sip of water before my words slipped out unbidden. “It’s really good to see you, Phoebe.”

  Her head whipped up, her hands stilling from where she had speared a piece of fish with her fork. “It's really good to see you, Archer.”

  “We sort of stayed in touch. I wish I’d been better about it.”

  “We were young, and social media wasn’t that established yet. You're still my best friend,” she said simply. Pink tinged her cheeks. “Tasha turned out not to be such a great next best friend in high school.”

  I shrugged. “I think she feels bad, for what it's worth.”

  Phoebe took a bite, chewing before replying, “I know she does.”

  “You're loyal, and you would never do that, even if you had been attracted to some guy she dated,” I offered.
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  Phoebe took another bite, her lips pressing in a line after she finished chewing. “Exactly. I'll get over it.”

  “I'd suggest we don't have to steal their thunder with our wedding, but the wheels are already in motion.”

  She shrugged. “It's okay. I'm actually kind of excited. Not because of the thunder stealing but because I think it'll be fun.”

  “Madison seems on top of the wedding planning,” I teased.

  “You can say that again. She's really into it.” Phoebe grinned. “Thank God because wedding planning is definitely not in my wheelhouse.”

  “So, tell me, how'd you end up becoming a hotshot firefighter?” I was genuinely curious.

  Between bites, she explained, “Well, I was in college, and you know I love the outdoors.”

  “Of course, same.”

  “I did some volunteer firefighter work in the city. It's different from hotshot work, but I loved it. I know I can't do this job long term, but I thought it'd be a good option for now.”

  “What's the plan after that?”

  “I got my degree in wildlife biology, so I'll play it by ear.”

  “Our foundation raises money for wildlife conservation programs here in Alaska.”

  She finished chewing a bite and reached to take a swallow from her wine glass. Setting it down, she cocked her head to the side. “Archer, you don't have to support me, and you don't have to find work for me.”

  “I know, I know. I'm just saying. Plus, we don't even know where we might be in five years.”

  “We might not even still be married,” she said with a shrug.

  The urge to correct her on that detail was powerful, but I kept my mouth shut and made a noncommittal sound in my throat before taking a swallow from my beer.

  “Your turn,” she began next. “Obviously, I know you work for your family, and you're going to take over this entire branch of the business, but catch me up. What did I miss?”

  “What do you mean?” I countered.

  “Your whole life since high school. The last time we hung out was in middle school. Who was your first girlfriend? What was she like? How was college? So on and so forth.” Phoebe circled her hand in the air.

  I held her eyes, thinking I wished she'd been at my side all those years. Although, somehow, I didn't think we would have ended up here if that had been the case. Maybe this was better. I quickly sketched the outlines of my life for her. There was one area I tended to always gloss over because it hurt. The details related to it were a part of why I was sitting here.

  If I could tell anyone, it was Phoebe. I took a breath, steeling myself for the self-inflicted blow because talking about this was like dragging a jagged blade across my heart and tearing off an old scab. “You remember my cousin Jake?”

  Phoebe nodded immediately. “Yeah, you too were pretty close, right?”

  “He died.”

  She gasped, her palm flying to her chest. “Oh, no. Archer, what happened?”

  Reaching over, she placed her hand on my knee. Her touch was soothing but also distracting. “It’s part of the reason my great-uncle hates me. We went to college together. He died of alcohol poisoning at a party. I’d left early because I never was much of a partier. He drank himself into a stupor and died. Clint said I should have been there. I think he knows, obviously, I couldn't be my cousin's keeper, but it led to some bad blood between us. He's always resented me for being alive while his grandson was dead.” I was leaving out some major details that played into the entire mess and the likely reason my cousin had become a young alcoholic, but I could only handle so much. Some secrets were meant to be taken to the grave, or so I’d convinced myself over the years.

  “He’s furious about the clause for me to take over the company once I’m married. He currently manages this branch of the business and can't do anything about it if I get married.”

  I took a breath, loosening the tension banded around my chest.

  “I'm really sorry about Jake. I know you were close.” The warmth in her eyes soothed the sting from that scab being torn off.

  “Thank you. It's life, and shit happens, or something like that.” That was a massive understatement, but even telling her this pushed me to the edge inside.

  I managed to move our conversation onto lighter topics, regaling her with a few stories about my grandmother. Phoebe actually knew her because she'd come to visit a few times when we were little. Though my grandmother was mostly wheelchair bound now, she still had all of her faculties and wielded her power strategically.

  Chapter Twelve

  Phoebe

  Being with Archer was discombobulating. On the one hand, it was completely comfortable and familiar. Even though we hadn't seen each other since fifth grade, I still knew him and our old friendship felt like pulling on a comfy sweater. On the other, it was disconcerting to be so attracted to him. I'd catch myself letting my eyes linger on him. He was easy on the eyes with his dark blond hair, that shade of stubble, and his smoky-gray gaze.

  The features that had seemed almost square and blocky when he was little were now chiseled. I knew he was the kind of man women crushed on. I wasn’t one to crush on any man. Yet here I was, crushing hard on him. I wasn't much for dating. Trying to date in my old hometown had felt impossible. There weren’t many options, at least not for me.

  After we cleaned up from dinner, we lingered at the counter.

  “How tall are you?” I asked when he angled on his stool to face me. It seemed like his knees were practically folding into themselves.

  A laugh rustled in his throat, and my belly swooped. “Six-two. I'm definitely taller than I was in middle school.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “How tall are you?”

  “Not that much taller than I was in middle school,” I deadpanned.

  He threw his head back with a laugh. This time, my belly did a shimmy and a swoop.

  “I think I've grown maybe three inches since middle school. If I stand up really straight, I can say I'm five-four.”

  He smiled at me, and I felt caught in the beam of his gaze.

  “It's really good to see you, Phoebe,” he said.

  “You said that before.”

  “Well, it bears repeating.” He rested an elbow on the counter, and my toes curled more tightly on the rung of my stool. “I didn't know what it’d be like to see you again.”

  “I didn’t either, and it had been a while. How many years was it?”

  “We’re both thirty, so…”

  “We haven’t seen each other since we were eleven,” I finished. “People change a lot from middle school.”

  “Do they, though? Coming back here, I’ve run into a lot of people I knew back then. Maybe they're a little different, but the underlying part is the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, take Beck. He's totally a flirt and a tease, but he was a loyal guy before. It doesn't surprise me that he's happily married and already has two kids. He was that kind of friend.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “I suppose you're right.”

  “And Cade, he was kind of serious back then, and he's kind of serious now. He’s got a sense of humor, but you know what I mean.”

  “True.”

  “And you, you were a tomboy then. It suits you perfectly that you're a hotshot firefighter now.”

  “Am I still a tomboy?” I heard myself asking but then immediately chastised myself. Don't ask stupid, leading questions.

  “I don't know if tomboy is the word now, but you were tough. You weren't a girly girl then, and you're not now. It doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful and totally sexy.”

  “What?” I squeaked.

  “I said what I said,” Archer replied, his lips kicking up in a teasing smile. “What about me?”

  “What do you mean, what about you?”

  “Am I like I was in fifth grade?” he asked.

  I caught my bottom lip in my teeth as I pondered his question.
The answer came quickly. “Mostly, but not completely.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I don't think of you as Archie anymore, which is kind of funny. But that doesn’t really matter.” I gestured vaguely in the air. “You're just solid and stable. And good. You're still funny, but you’re not goofy. I'm not sure if you’re different or if it's me, but—”

  His eyes met mine, searching. “What do you mean?”

  “You run a billionaire company now, or part of one,” I clarified, feeling flustered.

  “Yeah, so did my parents before,” he said, all nonchalant.

  “I didn't think of you like that, though,” I pressed.

  “Because my parents weren't snobs who flashed their money. I'm not either. I think that's your idea about me.”

  “Maybe so,” I said cautiously.

  “Money doesn't define a person unless you let it.”

  Archer rested his hand across the back of my stool. Even though he wasn't even touching me, I could feel the heat radiating from his hand where it rested just behind my shoulders.

  “I feel like I don't have the best judgment about people,” I offered.

  “Because of Tasha?”

  I nodded. “It really shocked me when I learned she screwed around with my boyfriend behind my back. I just didn't think she would do that. I didn't think she was that kind of person.”

  “Good people can do shitty things, and bad people can do good things.” Archer was philosophical, and I supposed it was true.

  “What's the worst thing you've done?”

  Archer tilted his head to the side, his fingertips drumming behind my shoulders. A prickle chased down my spine.

  “You and I did some pretty crazy stuff when we were little. In high school, I got in trouble for drag racing after I got my license.”

  “What?!” I gasped.

  He threw me a lopsided grin. “I know. It was totally fucking stupid. There's a reason insurance rates are much higher for guys up until they're twenty-five. We’re stupid.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was a dare with some friends. I got caught, and my parents actually pulled my license.”