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She brushed her pointer finger over the outline. A string dangled from the cup’s lip, a tea tag attached to the end. Words were inscribed on the tag, so small that she could have easily missed it.
Sweet Tea
She sucked in a breath.
Archer flinched. “You found it.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” She brushed her thumb back and forth on the inscription. “Was this your first tattoo?”
He nodded, tucking her hair from her face so he could look at her. “This was my first, the one on my back was next.”
“You remember my nickname,” she whispered.
“Of course I do.”
“I honestly thought you forgot.”
“I would never forget anything about you.”
She blinked down at him. She liked seeing him this way, soft around the edges, calm and relaxed. No stress from his job or trying to have some kind of handle on Wild Pines during the pandemic. His jaw loose, his hands gentle, his gaze tender and knowing.
He hooked a hand behind her neck. “Come here,” he whispered.
She did as he asked, dipping down to kiss his lips, the feel of his stubble on her chin igniting something deep in her belly. She let her body go pliant as he rolled her to his side, sliding his hand around her waist and to her butt.
He squeezed as he broke their kiss. “I have thought about these curves from the moment you arrived.”
She raised a brow. “I’m surprised. I mean, you barely looked at me.”
“Trust me, I was looking.”
She gave him a smug smile. “Does this mean I get my prize early?”
He bit her bottom lip and sucked on it. “I could be tempted.”
She kissed his chin, then left a trail of kisses down his neck, proceeding down to his chest.
He hummed in response. “What are you doing?”
She grinned, then flipped him back over, pinning him down again with her legs, hands on his chest. “Finishing what I started.”
He laughed, squeezing her thighs. “You are a tease.”
“Shh. I have two more cocktails to find.”
She eventually found them—one on his right calf, the other on his left ankle. She then became far too interested in examining the rest of his tattoos to claim her prize, brushing her hands on each piece of artwork. “Only one on your back?”
“Just the one.” Archer played with her hair, curling it with his fingers. Moments later, he brushed his thumb across her lips. “You miss him?”
She didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. She knew. “Every minute.”
She wanted to end the conversation right there, but she knew she shouldn’t. Not after everything Archer confessed to her on the beach. If he could be brave and talk through the things that hurt, then she could do the same.
She kept her eyes on his tattoos as she spoke. “I didn’t want to believe he was gone. It was easier to build up a new kind of life and scrape away the memories of him that felt like scars. We moved out of our house, we created new summer traditions in the city, and I ignored my grief.”
Archer sat up, sliding her to his lap, then wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t say anything. He gave her space to continue.
She combed a hand through his hair. “I was so nervous coming here this summer,” she confessed. “It was the first time I had to really face the memory of him. I thought it would be completely devastating, and some of it has been. I used to have these dreams about him—one moment he’s there, then the next he’s gone—and they came back with a vengeance once I entered our cabin. But…not all of it has been devastating. There are parts of him that I like to experience, like being on a boat, or skiing on the water.” She rolled her eyes. “Or attempting to ski.”
