Liza and Melanie laughed. I turned around and grabbed the coffee pot and poured Archer a cup, and then watched as he poured creamer in it.

Maggie came up next to me and put her hand out to Archer. "Hi there," she smiled, glancing over at me quickly, "I'm Maggie. Thanks for coming in."

Archer smiled shyly at her and shook her hand, signing to me, Please tell her I said it's nice to meet her.

I did and she smiled. "I met you many years ago, honey. Your mama used to bring you in here when you were a little thing." She looked off in the distance as if she was recalling. "That mama of yours was just the sweetest, prettiest thing. And oh, did she love you." She sighed, coming back to the present and smiling. "Well, anyway, I'm so glad you're here."

Archer listened to her, a small smile on his face, seeming to drink in her words. He nodded and Maggie went on, looking at me. "So, Archer, this girl here has worked a lot of overtime recently. I think she's earned an early day. Think you can come up with something to do with her?"

"Geez, Maggie, that sounds dirty." Liza snorted.

Archer tried not to smile and looked away, picking up his coffee cup as Maggie put her hands on her hips and glared at Liza as we laughed.

"It's your dirty mind that makes that sound dirty," she said, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

Archer looked at me. Think we can come up with something dirty to do this afternoon? he asked, grinning at me. I laughed and then bit my lip to stop myself.

"See!" Melanie said. "I knew you two were talking dirty. I’m totally learning sign language."

I grinned. "He just asked me if I'd like to go on a nice picnic," I said, deadpan.

"Right!" Liza said, laughing. "A naked picnic!"

I laughed and Maggie snorted, causing Archer to grin bigger. "You people aren't right. Now get outta here, you," Maggie said, nudging me.

"Okay, okay, but what about my sidework and the salads–"

"I got it," she said. "You can make the salads in the morning."

I looked at Archer. "Well, okay then! Let's go!"

He started taking some money out of his pocket for the coffee, but Maggie stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. "It's on the house," she said.

Archer paused, looking at me and then nodded okay.

"Okay," she said, smiling.

I came from around the counter, and we said goodbye to Melanie, Liza and Maggie, and then walked out the front door together.

When we got outside, I looked across the street and saw a familiar figure. Victoria Hale was just coming out of a store with an older woman with dark hair. I saw the moment she saw me and Archer–the temperature on that street seemed to drop about fifty degrees, and a chill moved through me. I wrapped my arms around Archer's waist and he smiled down at me, pulled me to him and kissed the side of my head, and as quickly as that, Victoria Hale ceased to exist.

Later that evening, Archer built a bonfire down on the lakeshore and we sat on old Adirondack chairs that he told me his uncle had built years ago. We brought a bottle of red wine and blankets with us as the weather was getting colder, especially in the evenings. Archer had a small glass of wine and I had a larger one and he nursed his like it was strong liquor. So many things that I took for granted were so new to him.

We sat in silence for a little bit, sipping the wine and just watching the fire blaze and jump. I felt happy and content, the wine moving through my blood. I leaned my head on the back of the wooden chair and looked over at his handsome profile, all alight in the glow of the fire. For a second he looked like a God, maybe of the Sun, all golden and beautiful, his own magnificence outdoing that of the dancing flames. I laughed slightly to myself–feeling drunk from half a glass of Merlot. Drunk on him, on this night, on fate, on bravery, on life. I stood up, the blanket on my lap falling to the chair, and I sat my wine down on the sand. I walked to him and sat on his lap and when he smiled, I took his face in my hands and simply gazed at him for a second before I brought my lips down on his, tasting red wine and Archer, a delicious ambrosia that made me moan and tilt my head so that he would take over the kiss and give me more of himself. He did, leaning into me and teasing my tongue with his as I adjusted myself on his lap and sighed into his mouth. He responded to my sigh, his tongue plunging slowly into my mouth, mimicking the sex act, and making my core pulse to life, almost instantly slick and wet, ready for him to fill me and satiate the deep need that was making me ache and squirm on his lap.

He smiled against my mouth–he knew exactly what he did to me and he liked it. It was so easy to get lost in him now, the way he paid attention, the way he looked at me as if he adored me, the way his intense sexiness was all natural and unabashed–he barely knew it existed. But he was learning, and in a way I felt the loss of the unsure man who looked to me to show him how to pleasure me, to tell him I wanted him at all. But the other part of me gloried in his newfound confidence, in the way he took charge of my body and made me weak with desire.

After a few minutes, I leaned back, both of us breathing harshly, catching our breath. I kissed him lightly one more time on his mouth. "You get me worked up too quickly," I said.

His hands came up. Is that a bad thing? he asked. He eyed me–it was an actual question, not rhetorical.

I ran my thumb over his bottom lip. "No," I whispered, shaking my head.

I caught sight of his scar in the dancing flames, the raised skin red in the firelight, the shiny skin golden, stretched. I leaned in and kissed it and he shuddered slightly, going still. I ran my tongue over it, feeling his body tense even more.

I whispered against his throat, "You're beautiful everywhere, Archer."

He let out a breath and leaned his head back very, very slightly, giving me more access, baring his scar to me, a beautiful act of trust.

"Tell me what happened," I whispered, rubbing my lips up and down the puckered skin, drawing in his scent. "Tell me all of it. I want to know you," I said, leaning back and looking up at him.

His expression was a mixture of tense and thoughtful as he looked down into my face. He let out a breath and brought his hands up. I felt… almost normal today. At the diner. He paused. I don't want to remember how I'm broken tonight, Bree. Please. I just want to hold you out here, and then I want to take you inside and make love to you. I know it's hard to understand, but please. Let me just enjoy you for now.

I studied him. I did understand. I had been there. I had tried so hard to get back to a place of normalcy after my dad died. I had tried so hard to stop missing exits on the highway that I'd taken a thousand times, tried so hard to stop zoning out at the grocery store, standing in front of the oranges, just staring into space, tried hard to feel something–anything that wasn't pure pain. And no matter who had asked me, no matter how much they'd loved me, I couldn't have talked about it until I was one hundred percent ready. Archer had lived with his own pain for a long, long time, and asking him to re-visit it on my time schedule would never be fair. I would wait. I would wait as long as he needed me to.

I smiled at him, smoothed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him gently again. When I leaned back, I said, "Remember how you told me that I did fight the night my dad was killed and I was attacked?"

He nodded, his eyes dark orbs in the dim light just beyond the reach of the firelight.