One side of his face was illuminated by the beam of the flashlight, but the other was hidden in shadows. We were standing close, closer than normal, like two moths drawn to the small offering of light. It created a weird sort of intimacy as we stood there discussing the tragedy of two lovers.
“Yeah.” I agreed. “It’s different when you’re here. Like this tree really does have some sort of magic.”
He nodded, not scoffing at the notion of magic. “I’m glad you came.”
My lips parted so I could agree, but another voice stopped me. “If you want to flirt, do it on someone else’s time.”
I jolted backward, the beam of light falling to the ground. “We were not flirting.”
“Could have fooled me.” Archer’s voice was cold. “Let’s go.”
He gestured to Brett to get moving, and he spun and started walking. I started after him, but the barrel of the shotgun fell into my path, stopping me. Halting, I glared over the metal at Archer. His expression was unreadable, and then he pulled the gun down and started walking, putting himself between me and Brett.
I clicked off the light and followed behind him silently, wondering what the hell his problem was. Paul and Brett were standing beside the open passenger side door when Archer veered off to get behind the wheel.
The cab light was dim when Archer started up the engine.
“Shall we?” I asked.
“After you,” Paul invited, sweeping his hand out for me to get in first.
If I got in first, I’d be squished up against Archer.
“Uh,” I uttered, looking back at the father and son. Their expressions were hopeful and maybe a little pleading, and I barked out a laugh. “Scared of him, are you?”
“Not at all,” Paul said, then cleared his throat. “He’s just, ah, a bit prickly this time of year.”
I snorted. “You meanallyear.”
Paul’s brow furrowed. “Well, no. Sure, he keeps to himself most times, but he is busy running this farm. But around this time of year, he gets a little… well, grinchy. You seem to handle it well.”
He thinks I handle Archer well? If he only knew.
But Archer being grinchy this time of year was news to me. Not that I really kept up on news about Archer.
Fine. I asked my mom about the farm sometimes. But I never asked about Christmas.
I didn’t say anything else, just climbed into the cab and slid across the bench seat. Archer glanced at me from the corner of his eye and then went back to looking out the windshield as I settled beside him, careful not to touch him.
Brett climbed in next and his father right after, closing the door behind him.
Seconds later, the light went out, plunging us all into darkness. Heat blasted from the vents, filling the air with a slight rattling sound.
Brett jostled into me, and I fell sideways, coming right up against Archer’s side.
His body stiffened, and I sucked in a breath.
“Sorry,” Brett said even as he slid a little closer.
The muscles in my legs contracted as I tried to hold myself stiff so I touched the driver as little as possible.
“This truck is just not big enough for four people,” Paul observed.
Archer put the truck in drive and turned in a large arc so we could go back the way we came. With the swift turn, my weight fell into Brett’s side, and I felt myself blush.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to strain away.
He laughed under his breath. “It’s all right.”
