Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
She giggles then turns over and throws an arm around my neck, her nightgown slipping down her body to reveal the top of her breast.
“Mmm,” I groan and run my fingers along the smooth skin now on display. “You’re a damn vixen, sent to steal all the come out of my balls, sweetheart.”
Her laugh cuts the heaviness in the air after all the talk about our families.
“I don’t know if it’s smart for me to be with you like this, but hell if I want to be smart,” I mutter before trailing my tongue along the top of her breast.
“Archer...” she moans softly, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I turn her face towards mine. I want her to know that I'm giving her something that no one else has. Because whether she likes it or not, I'm getting more tangled up in this woman with each passing moment, and not just because of her beautiful body that I can't keep my hands off of. There's so much more that draws me to her, and in that moment, I realize just how deep I'm falling for her.
Chapter Seven
Bella
When we wake the next morning, the snow outside the window feels endless, falling in thick, steady sheets that blanket the world in white. The quiet, peaceful kind of snow that should feel calming, but instead, it feels like it’s closing in on me. Too much space. Too much time to think.
I turn my eyes away from the window and try to shake off the creeping doubt, but it sticks, wrapping around me like the chill in the air. Whatever happened between Archer and I last night scares me, thrills me, and makes me want to run back to the city at the same time.
That’s when I hear the knock.
I frown. No one just stops by out here. It’s always deliberate. And who would be out in this snowstorm anyway?
I move to the front door, curling the blanket around my shoulders before opening it, I’m greeted by a delivery guy holding a long, sleek box wrapped in expensive gold paper. My stomach drops. I know that box, that wrapping, the weight of it before I even touch it.
“Bella Fremont?” he asks, like I could be anyone else out here.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I mutter, taking the box, feeling the weight of it settle in my hands. I shut the door as the delivery guy walks away, but I stay standing there, staring at the box like it might explode.
I already know who it’s from. The packaging, the extravagance—it screams him. My ex-boss. Always trying to worm his way back in, even from a distance.
I tear open the paper, half hoping I’m wrong, but I’m not. Inside is a necklace. Diamonds, delicate and gleaming, the kind of thing that used to make me feel important. Now, it just feels heavy. There’s a note tucked inside, his handwriting as sharp and arrogant as ever.
I’ll always know what you need. Come back to the city where you belong. I’ll give you a raise and up your benefit package.
Anger flares up first, but right behind it, there’s something worse. Doubt. It creeps in, seeping through the cracks. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t belong here. Maybe this life I’ve been trying to build in Copper Mountain isn’t for me.
I toss the note aside, gripping the necklace tighter, the diamonds catching the light like they’re mocking me. What the hell am I doing? This kind of jewelry doesn’t belong here. I don’t belong here.
I should throw it out. Toss it in the snow and be done with it. But instead, I place it on the counter and just stare at it, the weight of my past pressing in harder than ever.
The sound of the floorboards creaking pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see Archer stepping into the kitchen, his broad frame filling the doorway. His usual grin falters the second he sees my face.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is low, filled with concern, and it hits me right in the gut. He’s always so steady, so sure, and right now, I feel anything but.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, too sharply. The lie hangs between us like a curtain, thin and obvious.
His eyes flick to the necklace on the counter, and I see the realization hit him, the brief flicker of something before his expression hardens. “That from him?”
I swallow, my throat tight, but I nod. What’s the point in lying? He can see right through me.
Archer moves closer, his presence grounding but also terrifying. He stops in front of the counter, staring down at the necklace like it’s poison. “So, he’s sending gifts now?”
“Looks that way.” My voice is small, weak, and I hate it. I hate how rattled this makes me, how easily my old boss can still get under my skin from miles away.