Page 16 of Sigh of Relief

And the smell from the thermos he opened was delicious too. “I brought a bribe,” he said, grinning.

“Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

Elton pushed off the rail and crowded into his space, mere inches between them. “Maybe I like it when you’re grumpy and I can make it better.”

He gently pressed the thermos against Archer’s chest, the warmth radiating through his sweater and all around him, Elton’s presence filling his world, the heat going supernova where their fingers tangled together around the canister. Archer’s gaze shot up and the molten one staring back at him was like quicksand, threatening to never let him go.

Promising to drag him back inside and set him on fire.

Until a car horn blew, and Elton whipped his fiery brown gaze to the side, growling. He did not, however, step back.

And that was the silver lining that kept Archer’s own frustration from boiling over at Noah, who leaned across the console of his truck and shouted out the window. “You know how Ruby gets if we’re late.”

Elton’s gaze swung back to him. “Ruby? The woman with the goats?”

Archer nodded, then leaned back enough to take a sip of the fucking divine coffee, letting it burn away some of his aggravation at being interrupted once again. “We’re going to her other farm.”

“What’s her other farm?” Elton said, rightfully suspicious.

The rest of Archer’s irritation evaporated with Noah’s unhinged laughter. It might not have been the day he wanted, but it was going to be amusing nonetheless, and if nothing else, it would certainly take Elton’s mind off whatever had caused those deeper wrinkles. It might even give him a smile to hold on to when he did catch that flight to wherever tomorrow.

He handed the thermos back to Elton, rolled his suitcase into the cabin, then looped an arm through Elton’s and steered him off the porch. “I hope you’re ready for today.”

“I’m suddenly worried.”

Archer grinned. “You should be.”

Chapter Eleven

With Noah behind the wheel, Elton should have guessed their destination would be food related. What he couldn’t have known was that “Ruby’s other farm” was a chilly butchery run by Ruby’s daughter—also named Ruby—on an outparcel of the main farm.

“A small operation,” she had told him, with all their product going to local purveyors and restaurants. And none of it made from their sheep or goats.

Noah was like a kid in a candy store, picking out proteins for the restaurant’s reopening that weekend. Archer hovered by his side, discussing how they could use this shank, that side, or those scraps, the two of them planning dishes to pair with the winery’s age-ready list.

Two things became abundantly clear: Archer didn’t just manage the vineyard and make the wines; he was also intimately involved in the food side of the operation. And when it came to Hanover’s menu, food and wine both played starring roles. Neither fact was surprising; Hanover was a restaurant at a winery. But witnessing the menu planning in action intrigued Elton. Made him reconsider the meal he and Archer had shared last month. Made him realize that Archer had skillfully ordered items that would work with any wine Jake had pulled from the cellar. Had Archer worked in restaurants before? At the winery where he previously worked? Had hiring him away been Ezra’s plan all along?

Ezra’s husband and Archer laughed over something, their easy camaraderie raising another question: How did the three of them—Noah, Archer, and Ezra—make this work? Was there really no awkwardness? Because Archer and Ezra scening together was in the past or because they still scened together? Did Noah too? And what was it about them that smoothed out Archer’s prickly edges?

Elton continued to try to fit the pieces together in his head as he wandered back outside. He trudged across the muddy gravel drive to a pen of fluffy sheep and started counting them out of habit. He laughed at himself. Less about the sheep and more about whatever urge had led him here, ignoring every opportunity that morning to return home and instead driving ninety minutes farther north, making his drive that much longer back to the airport tomorrow. He hadn’t been this impulsive in . . . fifteen years. Every step, every decision, every risk had been measured and evaluated.

Until now.

And for what?

He laughed again at how many different ways he could take his own question.

“Sheep tell you something funny?” came a voice from behind him.

Rotating, he rested his elbows on the fence rail and eyed the smirking impetus of his sudden recklessness. “That I shouldn’t assign them numbers.”

Archer waggled his brows. “Number 4, right? She’s the grumpy one.”

“Takes after you, then.”

“She’s my favorite.”

Elton chuckled, but it trailed off as he caught sight of Ruby herding cows into the slaughterhouse. “Jamie’s going to kill me.”