Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
My eyes widen. I stretch up and put my hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.
“I’m so sorry, that must have been hard. Was it a big accident? Like, a passenger plane?”
“Nah.” He snorts. “Dad had two hobbies—reading bad poetry and flying. One got him into trouble. He had a pilot’s license and everything after deciding it was something he wanted later in life. He had a grandfather who grew up in Seattle, always told him stories about the early days at Boeing, and I guess they stuck. Most guys settle for a flashy sports car or a woman half their age when they go full midlife crisis, but not Dad.”
I smile wryly.
“He just had to get his own wings as soon as he had his lessons down. He kept at it while everybody else told him he was out of his mind. Mom was always on edge every time she knew he was going up. It got better with time, the more flights he put in—until one day, he never came home.” He chuckles bitterly.
“That’s so sad.”
“That’s life, Sugarbee. Shifting sands, light and dark, and you either find your footing or you sink. These days, that’s a lot easier. I have Colt, my brothers, my business. The army gave me discipline I wouldn’t have picked up anywhere else. Plus, I had a chance to put my country first. There’s value there, getting invested enough in your people to give up your life if duty calls. You serve a higher cause, even when damn near everything goes against you.”
The man he couldn’t save, he means. Big Frank from Chicago.
I bet Archer would’ve traded places with him in a heartbeat.
Maybe he tried and it was all in vain.
God, maybe Frank traded places for him.
Heavy stuff.
The thought makes it a little hard to breathe.
“Hey!” A loud voice comes from behind Archer.
I switch my gaze to a tall man in a burgundy shirt and tan slacks, hands in his pockets. He’s standing by the house, watching us both with an amused expression.
At first glance, this guy could be Archer’s twin, minus the thinner dark shadow around his jaw that isn’t quite a beard. He’s handsome enough and younger, with nearly identical piercing blue eyes that shine out from a distance.
He’s also just as well-dressed as Archer usually is.
Archer also turns, giving me a view of his sculpted back.
I’ve seen him naked plenty of times, but I swear I will never get over how good this man looks shirtless.
“What are you doing here?” Archer grumbles, his face darkening.
The stranger approaches, pausing to give me a wicked smile before shifting his attention to Archer. Now, he’s closer, and I see his hair looks a tad more rusty and he’s certainly younger. “Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?”
Archer snorts. “I can’t believe you think that’s you.”
“Well, we both know it isn’t Dex. Mrs. Potter said you’d be here.” The man’s posture doesn’t change, unaffected by the snarl in Archer’s voice. It’s amazing how he flips from warm and teasing to hard and tense in a heartbeat.
A muscle jumps in Archer’s jaw. “What’s the point of having a receptionist again if she gives away my location to every asshole who asks?”
“Manners, for one. They never hurt anyone, Arch. And you know the office would suck without her.”
“Like you’d know. What’re you doing here, Pat?” Archer folds his arms, flexing his biceps. I snap my jaw shut before I get caught in a dogfight between brothers.
“Two things. First, I wanted to see the place for myself. You said there were bees, but I didn’t know how many.” His gaze lands on me again. I get the feeling I’m what he wanted to check out the most. “Also, I wanted to talk about the St. Louis numbers. You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
For the first time, Archer glances back at me. “This is my brother and business partner, Patton Rory. He’s a complete jackass, so you won’t be seeing him long.”
“Pot and kettle,” Patton says, totally unruffled. He strides forward on his long legs and offers me a hand. “Nice to meet you. Wynne, is it?”
“Winnie or just Win,” I correct. Wynne is my birth name, but I’ve always hated it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Right back at ya.” He gives me another once-over, smirking.
“Leave her alone, Pat. She’s working,” Archer growls.
“Yeah, okay. So, if she’s busy playing beekeeper, do you have a minute to talk about the figures? You pulled the report at least, right?”
The way Archer flexes again tells me he doesn’t want to waste another second on this.
But he also has no choice.
I bite back a smile. There’s something adorable seeing the two brothers interact.
There’s a wedding ring on Patton’s hand, too, so I shouldn’t have to worry that his interest is anything but curiosity.
“I skimmed. Regrettably, I haven’t had time to give it a full read-through,” Archer admits.