“Why are you messing around with this girl?” Walker presses. “She’s got issues. You can see that. I can see that. You’ve got a daughter to raise and a business to run.”
It’s a low blow bringing up Abigail again, but I ignore it.
I could stand here and try to explain how much purpose I feel taking care of Marin, or that when she looks at me it’s like the rest of the world disappears, but I’m not sure what good that would do. Even with that big, fancy, philosophy degree, I doubt he’d understand where I’m coming from because I don’t think Walker has ever been in love. Not like this.
Swallowing hard, I tap my boot against the worn pine and glance up at my brother. “I’m taking Marin out of here for a while.”
He narrows his heavy, dark brows. “What? Where? What the hell are you doing right now, man? You’re losing it. Think about Abigail. What’s she going to think if—”
“You don’t think I’ve thought about that a million fucking times? Abigail has been my life for twenty-four years, but she’s grown up. I need a life of my own.”
“With someone your age.”
“With someone I love, and I love Marin.” It’s the first I’ve said the words out loud, and though they sound right, I’m not sure I chose the best audience.
“You love her? You just met her a few weeks ago. Not to mention that she’s too fucking young. What are you even saying? Is this some kind of midlife thing? You trying to recapture youryouth, ‘cause you know you can’t do that through your dick, right?”
To be fair to my brother, I’ve wondered the same, and I’d be lying if it’s not a perk that she has so much energy. She does make me feel young. “It’s more than that.She’smore than that. She’s soft and kind and genuine. We have the same sense of humor, and when I’m holding her, I feel like I have the world in my hands.”
“Christ, man. You need help.”
“I do,” I say, nodding. “So, if that asshole ex of hers calls back again, give him my home address, ‘cause I’ve got a few fuckin’ words to say to him.”
Chapter Eleven
Marin
I draw in a deep, soothing breath as I stare out the back porch and into the darkening woods. This time of day, the sun splashes red and orange, painting the sky like some Bob Ross masterpiece.
That guy is really fun to watch paint. I’ve seen a few of his videos when I needed to calm myself down after my ex would have one of his fits. There’s something about the slow stroke of a brush and gentle talking that feels so relaxing. It’s a lot like playing my guitar, though my ex hated it when I played. He said I interrupted his peace.
“You ever think about the future?” Archer brushes my hair back away from my face, one soft strand at a time, until my eyes feel heavy.
“What do you mean?”
“What you want. Where you want to live. How many kids you’d like to have. That kind of thing.”
I shake my head and glance toward him. “Not really. I mean, I thought I wanted to be in the city. I imagined myself playing local bars and traveling around like my mom, but now,” I shrug and breathe in the musk of pine on his clothes, “I don’t know. I’m kind of liking it out here. The whole redneck drama, hunting cabins with recipe books, and apple butter jars with homemade labels. It’s kind of cute.”
“Kind of?”
I grin and lie against his chest. “Kind of. What about you? You see a big, bright future ahead?”
“Hell, up until a few weeks ago, I thought the future was the distillery and a redneck war. Now, that feels like background music.”
“What’s it playing the track to?”
“Our life,” he hums under his breath, weaving his fingers through my hair as he talks. “I’ve spent way too much time lately thinking about the little cabin we could build together or the family we could have.”
Something easy settles into my chest. “You’d want a family with me?”
“Of course I want a family with you.” He lowers his chin toward my head. “You’re my girl. I want ten kids that look just like you running around, singing songs, and causing trouble.”
Warmth rushes through me, and I giggle and climb up onto his lap, my fingertips scrubbing through his long salt and pepper beard. “Are we still playing pretend ‘cause we’re at your house again, or is this real?”
“This is real, princess. I meant what I said earlier. You’re mine.” His hands land on my hips as I grind back and forth on his lap without thought. Archer’s massive hand travels up my back, his rough palms snagging on the fabric of my shirt. “I know this is soon, and I know there are all these red flags now about love and when you should say it, but fuck, princess, I love you. I love you and I can’t hold it in anymore. I can’t do it, and I won’t feel bad about what this is. You’re my girl. My sweet, innocent, little princess, and you’re mine. There’s no way around it now.”
A slow tear rolls down my cheek and onto my lips where it sits half a second before Archer brushes it away with his thumb.
