Break the Sky (Spiral of Bliss Spin Off) (22 page)

Something twisted in my chest. I returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. I didn’t want my mother to think my relationship with Archer was actually… significant.

I groaned softly.

“That was not a good sound,” my mother said from behind me.

I turned. “Where’s Archer?”

“In the garden fixing a broken fence. I was showing him my roses, and he offered to do some repairs.”

She joined me in putting the dishes away before she wrapped her arms around me. “What made you want to go after a storm again?”

“He did,” I admitted.

She was quiet.

“He’s nothing like Dean,” I told her, knowing well how much she loved and admired Professor Dean West. “In fact, he’s just the opposite.”

I waited for her to ask me why I was with him. She didn’t.

In truth, I’d almost stopped thinking of Archer as Dean’s brother. Not only had I taken Dean out of the equation where my relationship with Archer was concerned, I just couldn’t make any kind of a link between them.

Archer was so…
Archer
. Fire and bad jokes, danger and outright cuteness, scorching heat and scars.

He was who he was. Stood on his own. Blunt, honest. A straight shooter. Making no apologies. No wonder he’d escaped the Wests as soon as he could. He burned too brightly. He’d have suffocated there, in Dean’s extensive shadow and the cold perfection of their parents’ lives.

I knew how that felt, to be trapped by your surroundings. I’d secretly felt that way since starting work at King’s, and I couldn’t help envying Archer for his ability to live life on his own terms. Answering to no one.

“Aren’t you going to interrogate me about him?” I asked my mother.

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re always telling me how you want me to be with a nice man.”

“He seems like a nice man.”

“He is. But he’s had a rough life. He didn’t graduate from high school. He doesn’t have a steady job. He’s not
right
for me.”

Still she didn’t respond. Irritated, I pulled away from her. I’d been expecting a lecture about how my career was so impressive but that life wasn’t complete without love and family. Then I could respond with the plain fact that Archer and I had no future together.

Because I couldn’t possibly be imagining one, not even in the quietest, most secret place in my heart. Even if I were, reality would slap me upside the head sooner or later. I’d known from the beginning this wild ride would have to end.

Why wasn’t my mother agreeing that Archer wasn’t right for me?

“I need to get some stuff organized in the van,” I said, going past her and through the living room.

I stopped at the fireplace mantel and looked at a picture of my parents and me. My father stood with one arm around my mother and the other arm around me. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans. His expression was serious behind his beard, his dark eyes glittering with strength and intelligence.

Just looking at the picture, I could hear the booming sound of his voice. Smell the pipe tobacco that always clung to his clothes. Feel the weight of his arm on my shoulder.

My father and I had had a contentious relationship, with him always trying to rein in my rebellious tendencies—and me refusing to allow it—but never once had I doubted his love for me.

Maybe that was why I’d pursued being different and defiant. I’d always known that no matter what I did, no matter what boundaries I pushed, my father would always love me.

An ache filled my chest. I walked past the photograph and out the front door. I suddenly felt very alone.

After I checked the forecast models again to make sure we wouldn’t leave too late, Archer and I drove to my mother’s gift shop near downtown. She’d gone an hour earlier and was restocking the
pysanky
shelves when we arrived.

Her longtime friend and partner, Maria, a plump woman with twinkling eyes and a creased, apple-dumpling face, greeted Archer with a hug before grabbing his arm and taking him on a whirlwind tour of the shop.

I helped my mother with restocking, then we worked on some accounting and mail orders. It felt good to be back to another familiar routine.

“When Vera told me you were bringing a man home, I didn’t expect him,” Maria remarked in Russian as she approached the front counter.

I glanced to where Archer was busy taking apart a ten-piece matryoshka doll. The painted wooden figures looked even more delicate in his big hands.

“What did you expect?” I asked, also in Russian. I disliked the defensive note in my voice. “A lawyer? Another professor? An architect?”

“Yes,” Maria said without apology. “You are an accomplished, professional woman, Kseniya. Exactly what your father wanted you to be.”

A pang speared through my chest. My mother squeezed my arm.

“Kseniya doesn’t make foolish choices,” she said, giving Maria a pointed glance.

“I didn’t say it was foolish,” Maria replied. “Just unexpected.”

Both she and my mother looked at Archer again.

“He is handsome,” Maria remarked.

“Handsome?” My mother shook her head, her gaze still on Archer. “He’s more than handsome, Maria. He’s what young people would call a complete
hottie
.”

She said that last word in English, which sent both her and Maria into a fit of giggles. I tried to give them a stern look, even though a smile twitched the corners of my mouth. My mother, after all, did speak the truth.

“He is a hottie,” I agreed in Russian. “In more ways than one.”

Maria nudged me with her elbow. “He is good in bed, hmm?”

“Maria!” My face heated. “My mother is standing right here.”

“Well, is he?” my mother asked.

“I am not talking to you two about this.” I tried to concentrate on the invoices again.

Maria and my mother continued staring at Archer, who was now putting the wooden doll back together and paying no attention to the gossipy Russian women at the counter.

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be amazing in bed,” Maria murmured. “Look at the size of his—”

“Archer!” I called. “Time for us to go.”

“Hands,” Maria finished, giving my mother a wink.

While they both dissolved into laughter again, I grabbed my bag and stalked around to the other side of the counter.

Archer put the doll back on the shelf and approached us. If he wondered why Maria and my mother were red-faced and giggling like twelve-year-old girls, he gave no indication as he complimented them again on the shop and said goodbye.

When he started toward the door, I turned to Maria and my mother.

“Yes,” I said in Russian, with as much haughtiness as I could muster. “He does have very big and… remarkable hands.”

Another fit of laughter consumed them. I grinned and hurried to catch up with Archer, who waited at the door. He pulled it open for me, and I went ahead of him down the sidewalk. He fell into step beside me.

“Big hands, huh?” he asked.

Shock bolted through me. I stopped in my tracks. “Um… what?”

He held out his hands in front of him. “Apparently my hands are big and… what was that word? Wonderful?”

I stared at him. “You
understood
what we were saying?”

He flexed his hands and stretched out his fingers. “Some of it.”

“You know
Russian
?” I felt like he’d just told me he was from Mars.

“A little.” Archer was starting to look both smug and highly amused. “Mick, the guy who owns the garage where I worked, is Russian. Mikhail. He and his wife Svetlana are from Moscow. I picked up some Russian from them.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“Argh!” I planted my hands on his chest and gave him a shove. “You! That is so… so
devious
!”

“Hey, I didn’t even know you spoke Russian to your mother until we got here,” he said. His tone was defensive, but his eyes were bright with suppressed laughter. “And even if I didn’t know some Russian, I totally would have understood
hottie
.”

“Archer!” My face felt like it was on fire. “You are so… ugh!”

I couldn’t even believe that I was at a loss for words. I shoved him again for good measure and spun on my heel to stalk down the street. I heard him laughing behind me, and loath though I was to admit it, the warm, rich sound of his laughter resounded right in the middle of my soul.

He hurried to catch up with me. “Aw, come on, don’t be mad.”

“I am
furious
.”

He poked me in the shoulder. “You’re pretty sexy when you’re furious.”

“I am not.”

“You are,
kotyenok moy
.”

I stopped. My heart did that crazy twirling thing again. “What did you call me?”

“
Kotyenok
.” He smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Little kitten, right?”

I nodded. Actually he’d said, “
my
little kitten.” For whatever reason, the
my
seemed to make all the difference in the world.

I must have looked dumbfounded because Archer frowned.

“I didn’t just insult you, did I?” he asked. “I thought it was an endearment.”

“No.” I paused to clear my throat. “I mean, yes. It is an endearment. A very… nice endearment.”

“Good.” He reached out to tweak my nose. “Are you still furious
,
kotyenok moy
?”

I tried to glower at him, just to make a point, but of course it was impossible with the “my little kitten,” the laughing, the nose tweaking, and Archer standing there with his boyish grin that was such an engaging contrast to the pure masculinity of the rest of him.

“If you think I’m sexy when I’m furious, I can still be furious,” I told him.

He moved closer, sliding his hands around my waist and settling our lower bodies together. Warmth slipped through me.

“You’re sexy all the time,
kotyenok moy
,” he murmured, lowering his head to brush his lips across my cheek. “Every second of every minute of every day. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Oh, yeah,” I grumbled. “Lay it on thick and see if that dilutes my raging fury.”

“Okay,” he agreed before settling his mouth over mine in a hot, deep kiss that made me tingle from head to toe.

“Did it work?” he asked when we came up for air.

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Try again.”

He did. It worked.

“It was nice to have met you, Mrs. March.” Archer kissed my mother on the cheek as we stood in front of her house later that afternoon. “Thanks for everything.
Spasibo.
”

She smiled. “I’m glad Kseniya brought you to see me. Take care of her,
da?
”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him several foil-wrapped packages of blinchki and tea cookies. Archer went to put them in the cooler stowed in the back of the van.

I hugged my mother. “Thank you. I’ll come back soon.”

“And you take care of yourself,
dochenka
.” She eased back to pat my cheek, and I saw the worry in her eyes. “Don’t work so hard. Even with tenure, they should give you a break.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful driving.” She glanced past me to where Archer was organizing stuff in the back of the van. “I feel better knowing he’s with you. Bring him back with you next time, too.”

“He’s… he’s leaving soon, Mama. He won’t be in Mirror Lake much longer.”

My mother returned her gaze to me. “Where is he going?”

“Back to Nevada, I guess. It was… he’s just visiting for a few weeks.”

She frowned. “You knew this all along?”

I nodded. A hint of shame rose in me.

“He’s not the right kind of man for me anyway,” I said defensively. “I didn’t think you’d even like him.”

My mother looked at me with growing insight. My shame intensified. Her gaze pinned me to the spot. I should have known I could never hide from her.

“Kseniya,” she said, her voice stern. “Did you
want
me not to like him?”

“No.” I looked at the ground and shuffled my feet. “I mean, not like that. I just expected you to remind me that he’s all wrong for me.”