Three Reckless Words: A Grumpy Sunshine Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 3)
Three Reckless Words: Chapter 21

I wasn’t sure what to expect when Colt first told me about Delly’s art fair.

After meeting her and seeing her love for cardinals, I figured it would be stuff like that. Paintings, mostly, although he promised me bees.

But when we get there, the whole thing takes my breath away.

It’s that adorable.

Sure, there are tables and stands with more traditional art, but this time, Delly has brought an entire group of bee people. The stands take up half a block. Honey and wax makers and special handmade gift sets of balm people can take away.

The wooden carvings pump Colt up the most, but I get to talk to bee people all day. There’s no end to them, and it feels like the best thing to happen to me since the wedding—

minus Archer, of course.

Not that I tell them much about the purple honey.

With the bees in such a fragile place with just one hive left, I don’t want to risk attracting more attention.

Maybe next year, when they’re doing better, after the colonies are thriving again.

Then I catch myself.

‘Next year’ is a whopping promise I’m not sure I should make.

Even if Archer and I decide to explore what we’re meant to be, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll still be living here. I have a whole life to figure out, including a new career since I’m done with the DC scene.

“Did you say your dad could meet us here?” I ask Colt.

“Yeah.” Colt looks unbothered. “He said he would.”

I check the time on my phone. Archer said he’d be here a while ago, and that’s okay, seeing how we hit him up on such short notice during a workday.

We’re all sprawled out on the grass by the river, resting on Delly’s thick handcrafted blankets.

I bought myself a beer and Colt a milkshake. I’ve got a thick handful of leaflets about beekeeping in northern Missouri in my bag.

If Archer were here, it would be perfection.

A minute later, he is, sitting beside me like he just materialized from my thoughts.

“Hey, you two,” he says with oddly low enthusiasm. “How’s it going?”

I kiss his cheek, but there’s something reserved about his voice.

Something cold that isn’t normally there.

My stomach sinks.

Is he having second thoughts?

Rejection always tastes the same, no matter who it comes from. Didn’t Colt say he was meeting Rina earlier today? Maybe it didn’t go well.

Or maybe it went too well.

My jaw clenches as my brain spins through horrible possibilities.

Lyssie’s parents were divorced for ten years before they reconnected and ended up getting married again. These things happen, especially when they share a kid.

Especially when a kid gets to be Colt’s age and they’re approaching early middle age—just in time to reevaluate life. The idea of being a family is a tempting one, I’m sure.

At least, it could be.

It’s not like I’m an expert with knowing what normal, loving families look like.

But Colt chatters on about all the cool carvings he’s seen and how excited he is about them. The latest piece from some place called Redhaven leaves him awestruck. It’s a giant crow, painted white, and the guy selling it couldn’t shut up about how he got to work with some famous local guy named Gerald Grey on it.

I stare at Archer’s hand, willing it to land on my leg like before.

I think he knows I like to feel him touching me, warm and secure and always sexy.

But it doesn’t.

No matter how much I stare, his hand doesn’t move.

Call it stupid that I’m disappointed.

It’s laughable that something so small could open this pit inside me, but it does.

“That sounds great, Colt,” he says, but there’s still this flatness in his voice. Something empty that makes my chest ache.

“Winnie had fun talking about bees,” Colt says proudly. “I thought it would be a good idea to bring her here.”

“And you were right.” My laugh sounds forced, but neither of them seem to notice. “There are so many bee people here. I’ve found my tribe.”

Neither of them laugh, though I think it’s because Colt gets distracted by some guy walking past in full medieval armor. It wouldn’t be an art market without a few eccentrics who think the renaissance festival is a year-long event.

Archer just stares at the grass to his side, plucking blades absently.

“What about you? Rough day?” I ask.

Maybe a little desperate, but hell, I am.

“Huh?” He glances up, but there’s no mistaking it this time—there’s something closed off in his expression. His eyes are shuttered. “No, Winnie. My day was fine.”

Fine.

Nothing about him screams fine.

If he stays this tense, he might just permanently set into stone.

But from the way he’s looking at me, then glances at Colt, he’s not going to say anything about it here.

Okay, Archer. Later it is.

I look down at the lazy river and eventually Colt suggests we go for a walk.

Fine. I grab Archer a beer and he holds it loosely in his hands as he looks at the carvings Colt points out.

It’s a good mask, I’ll admit.

He’s saying the right stuff, going through the motions, and it’s convincing enough for Colt, who just wants his dad here to share this with him.

But maybe I’m more discerning, or just insecure.

Colt’s position in Archer’s life is guaranteed, for heaven’s sake. He’s his son.

Mine is far less guaranteed.

We haven’t really talked about the future, and things have been good, but that doesn’t mean they’re official. They’re not unbreakable.

Yeah, I’m overthinking.

I bite it back, though, until Colt goes off with some woodcutter guy who knows way more about carving than anyone else. I follow Archer down to the riverside walkway with a growing cactus in my throat.

“So,” I say after a few minutes of standing in awkward silence. Weird how after we’ve been so close—and I mean really freaking close, considering he was inside me just this morning—everything feels so distant. “You can’t keep avoiding me, you know.”

He barely looks at me. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Right, and there’s a giraffe in my pocket.

“Archer, please. Let’s not pretend everything is cool when it obviously isn’t. I got that enough at home.”

The word ‘home’ reaches him. Now, he does look at me.

Cold and distant like unblinking blue stars.

“Fuck, you want to know? My company got a notice from your father’s office,” he says.

What?

Oh my God.

…I’m going to murder my father.

Scalding blood rushes to my face. My eyes sting as I reach for my phone. “No way. I’m going to call him right now and—”

“No. This isn’t your fight, Sugarbee,” he snaps, catching my hand. It’s the first time he’s touched me since he left to see Rina.

His fingers feel warm and slightly calloused around my wrist. Despite everything, it sends electricity zinging through me.

“What do you mean? My stupid dad did this. He’s a child.” And all because of me, though I can’t bear to say it. Anger burns into guilt that tastes like ashes in my mouth. “Please, Archer. You have to let me help.”

He still hasn’t let go of my wrist and he’s closer now, his body almost pressed against mine, eclipsing me. I want him to take the final step and wrap me in his arms, but he doesn’t.

The Archer this morning would have done it in a heartbeat. Why does everything feel so hard now?

“I’ll handle it,” he says gently. “You’ve already been through too much with this asshole.”

Tears prick my eyes.

I thought we were safe, past the worst of it with Holden’s little stunt, but now my dad had to butt in, making my issues a burden again.

He talks about what I’ve been through, but what about him?

Not to mention all the drama he’s gone through before I entered his life.

My father launched a lawsuit—a flipping lawsuit—because he can’t stand me having a shred of free will.

I don’t have words to convey how much I hate this, so I step closer into Archer’s embrace. Thankfully, he hugs me this time, holding me against his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “He’s just mad, lashing out because he can’t control me anymore and he knows it. He’s a toxic control freak.”

“Let him have his fit. I’ll deal with it, Sugarbee.”

“I still want to help you. Any way I can.”

One of those big, rough hands strokes my hair, such a relief that I close my eyes, blinking away the surge of tears.

“You don’t need to worry, Winnie. You’ve done enough of that.”

A messy laugh cuts through the silence and we break apart.

Then I look up and see Colt standing with Delly, who’s holding a lump of wood I think she tried to carve. It looks like a mangled bird with one wing.

They’re both doubled over, laughing their heads off.

Ugh.

It’s not just Archer my dad’s attacking. It’s this family, Delly and Colt too—good people I’m growing to love. Innocent people who should be able to enjoy a day out with everybody happy.

Seeing them like this, oblivious to the knife at Archer’s throat, just makes my heart hurt.

No, there’s absolutely no way I’m going to sit back and let the monster who raised me walk all over the entire Rory family. They mean too much.

Archer waves at Colt and my heart pinches again.

Holy shit, this man is putting on one hell of a front for his son.

For me, he tried, but I know him too well.

As soon as I’m home, I’m calling Dad and sorting this out.

Even if it kills me.

I wait until I’m back in my guest room at Archer’s place before I pick up the phone.

Archer’s been consistently on edge all afternoon, and who can blame him?

It’s a wonder Colt hasn’t picked up on the bad vibes, but he’s been busy talking to wood artists and laughing with his grandmother. Thankfully, he hasn’t noticed anything off.

I’m happy for him, honestly, but it just makes this whole thing harder.

Predictably, Archer shut himself away in his office right after dinner, muttering about documents to review. Probably an excuse, yes, but it leaves me free to act.

The sound of the phone ringing in my ear makes me feel sick.

“Hello?” Mom answers the old home landline. Just like always. There’s a pause where she checks the caller ID and then her voice changes. “Winnie, honey, is that you?”

“How could you let him do it?” I swallow thickly, hating that I already feel like I’m shutting down. It’s a warm evening, but I’m shivering. “Mom, how could you?”

“What are you talking about? You should come home, sweetie.” Like always, she’s soft-spoken. Outwardly unrattled. No wonder she lets Dad stomp all over her. If she ever had a spine, it’s melted into pitiful compliance jelly after years of his crap.

“That’s not happening, and I think you know it.” I tighten my fist in the comforter. “You never stand up to him. You let his worst instincts take over. You always stand by while he savages other people.”

“Oh, Winnie, really, I don’t know what has you so upset,” she lies. Still oh-so-gentle and deferential even though I’m her own daughter. “You know your father doesn’t discuss his legal affairs with me.”

I hate that it makes her confusion sound sincere.

“You really don’t know?” I sigh. “You never bothered replaceing out what Dad’s been up to ever since he cut me off?” Somewhere deep inside me, there’s raw emotion, but it’s so choked off, so cold, I can’t feel it. “You mean you never asked? Not once?”

I shouldn’t be surprised.

If Mom’s good at one thing, it’s living in her own bubble of fake suburban perfection.

There’s another voice in the background then, sharp and authoritative, and I hear Dad take the phone.

“Wynne,” he clips. “It took you long enough to call.”

“How dare you.” I’m trembling when I say it.

For a second, he hesitates before he says, “If this is how you intend to speak to me—”

“No. No, you don’t get to play victim. How about you stop trying to sue Archer Rory?”

“Sue? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dad says, his voice as glacial as mine. “If you mean Higher Ends Incorporated, well, that’s a state matter now. This has nothing to do with a personal dispute and everything to do with enforcing fair business practices.”

“Like hell!” I’m standing before I know it. Some of the coldness has left me now, replaced by boiling heat, the kind that I know will reach my eyes soon. “I’m not stupid, Dad. Can you stop bullshitting me just once?”

“Watch your language, young lady.”

I laugh painfully.

“Watch my language? Listen to yourself!” My throat hurts. A sad part of me wonders why I bother with my next question. “Have you ever wanted to be my father at all? Even if I’m not useful to you?”

“Winnie… I was the first one to hold you when you were born. Do you expect me to dignify that with a response?” There’s a pause, only for a fraction of a second. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asks. Hard, angry. “Your boyfriend, threatening your fiancé and a senator’s son with assault. A very powerful senator, mind you, who used to be your boss, and who can make and break careers in this state at the snap of his fingers. This isn’t something we can brush aside, Winnie. This mishap has teeth, and my goal is to make sure they don’t chew up this family.”

Oh, God.

There’s a lot to unpack there, so I go for the easiest one. “He’s not my fiancé anymore, Dad. Or did you miss the memo? We’re over.”

“That isn’t my point. The fact is, the man you’re with now threatened Holden, and frankly I don’t feel confident you’re safe in his care. Never mind the political ramifications, this is a nation of laws. You simply can’t have Neanderthals stomping around and attacking law-abiding people when they show up for a basic conversation. You’re a smart girl, Wynne. Don’t be stupid.”

“Stupid? You want to know what stupid is?” I clench my teeth. “Keep pushing me and you’ll replace out, Carroll.”

“Carroll?” Anger seeps into his voice now. “Now see here—”

“No. When have you ever acted like a dad to me? There’s no point in calling you that anymore.”

“I understand you’re very angry—”

“Fuck yes, I’m angry. But if you don’t stop this, if you don’t stop protecting that abusive little creep because you’re scared for your career, I’ll do some lawyering up myself. I promise you, I’ll seek a full restraining order against Holden, and you can bet the media will hear about it. Along with the disgusting way he trespassed and destroyed Archer’s property.”

As soon as I say Archer’s name, I regret it.

Dad doesn’t need the gory details from me, no. I doubt he’d believe them anyway.

Of course, he just clucks his tongue. “Find your brain soon, young lady. I’m imploring you. Otherwise, you will make a grave mistake. I suspect an antitrust probe is hardly the worst of Higher Ends’ issues.”

My heart nosedives.

“What do you mean? What are you getting at?” For the first time, panic stabs through me. Dad would do this if he’s decided to fight, turning over every rock until he replaces vulnerabilities his lawyers can go after.

“Since you’re an insect aficionado, you’ll love this.” Victory creeps into his tone like poison. “I decided to take the matter of those bees up with a contact in the Department of Conservation. Evidently, there are a few rare subspecies of honeybee in this region with federal and state protections. They’re prone to producing that royal purple honey I’m sure you admire. If you think Holden Corban is such a threat—well, wouldn’t it be wise to protect your specimens by re-examining Higher Ends’ claim on the land and its property? Perhaps the company failed to do proper environmental research before it developed the land.”

“You wouldn’t.” My voice is a whisper.

“I think you know there are no limits to what I’ll do for the law. If you want a war over this, sweetheart, I can gladly deliver.”

My heart clenches.

Jesus, he really is insane.

Fleeing a bad marriage for my life wasn’t a declaration of war, it was an escape. Not just from Holden, but from a life filled with this type of drama and my control freak father throwing his weight around.

But I should have known better.

Dad never takes losing well.

Having me slip out from under his thumb after I torched the arranged wedding he staked our entire future on hits like a slap in the face.

Not because of me.

Never because of me.

It’s the principle, losing control.

“Don’t do it,” I whisper. “Don’t bring the bees into this.”

Don’t use my one love against me.

“The law is the law, my dear. Perhaps you should have thought harder before your friend attacked Holden.”

“Dad, please!” Here it comes. I’m going to pieces, fighting to strain out words around my closing throat.

“Next time, I sincerely hope you’ll weigh your choices more carefully.” And the line goes dead.

I stare at it, waiting for my screen to light up again.

But it doesn’t.

That’s it, conversation over.

My heart plunges so low in my chest I think it might drop through the floor. Dad has me over a barrel and I hate it with every fiber of my soul.

But what I hate even more?

The horrible reality that this endless family shitstorm has trapped me yet again—and now it’s trapped Archer too.