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I can’t make out all the fine details, but I see enough. It’s so whimsical and unexpected I smile.
Be still my beating heart.
And God, this man is sculpted. His biceps strain the sleeves of his shirt—which should be illegal, by the way—and I can appreciate the incredible Atlas-worthy breadth of his shoulders.
He really looks like he’s ready to take on the world without a complaint.
He swings into the seat across from me and nods at the menu, giving me time to recover my wits and tuck my jaw back into place.
“Hey, Winnie.”
“Hi,” I say, thankful my voice still works and isn’t dripping with dumb, flirty desire.I hope.
“See anything you want here?”
He’s talking about the menu.The menu, girl.
“See anything Idon’twant, you mean? This place is divine.” My face screws up with delight. “But honestly, I’m a chocoholic, so I’ll probably try that volcanic brownie with toffee apple sauce.”
“You sure you don’t want the special?” He reaches over, showing off his designer watch as he hands me a smallerlaminated menu I hadn’t noticed before. “Honey cupcakes. With fresh honey and cream cheese frosting.”
“Oh. My. God. Now I know why you brought us here.”
I don’t, but he smiles—an amazing smile, not just a ghostly switch of his lips—which makes me think I’ve never seen him truly smile before.
This one actually lights up his face.
Those dark-blue eyes of pure sorcery go from calm secrets to open night sky.
I think I stop breathing.
“My sister-in-law owns this place. Thought you might like it,” he says.
“You’re a little late to the party,” I say, recovering my voice. “I’ve been ordering stuff from this place for days. I can’t believe I missed the cupcakes, though. Honey cupcakes,shit!” I hold the menu to my heart. “Your sister-in-law is a genius. I bet we’ll hit it off like besties.”
I realize my mistake as soon as I say it.I bet we’ll hit it off like besties.
Like we’re going to ever meet.
Like there’s areasonI should meet his brilliant baker sister-in-law.
“I mean,ifI ever meet her,” I garble, “which I won’t, because… why would I? She sounds like a great person, though. I admire anyone who runs a place this cool.”
Like he hasn’t even registered my mammoth stupidity, Archer looks over the menu and waves to a server. She’s a young, pretty girl with brown hair in springy curls and soulful dark eyes, a college girl, maybe.
Really, she’s probably just a couple of years younger than me.
“Two honey cupcakes and an espresso, please.” He looks at me expectantly. “What do you want to drink?”
I scan the laminated menu with the drink selection—sodas, coffees, hot chocolates, milkshakes—and settle on a Bittersweet Mocha with locally made dark chocolate and cane sugar. The girl takes the order and heads to the back.
Archer leans forward, bracing his tree branch forearms on the table.
“I spoke with my brothers yesterday. It’s good news,” he says, watching me intently.
“I can stay?”
“As our temporary resident bee specialist, yes. That’s the deal. I told them you were going to tap the honey and help us get it analyzed, or whatever you do with the purple stuff.”