Page 101 of Autumn Kissed

And I’m swooning, like a waif.

Archer tries to squeeze through, but he can’t make it—not even when he takes off his coat.

“You’re too big,” I whisper, checking around the corner in the darkness to make sure we’re still alone.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are,” I say with a laugh.

“You mean my muscles are too big.”

He tries once more, and I end up in a fit of giggles as he fails again and again in his attempt to escape.

“You’re not helping,” he says, starting to laugh himself.

I hold my hand over my lips, the stress of the situation overcoming me.

“It’s not gonna work,” he says with a sigh. “I’m gonna have to stay here. You’re welcome to come back in. We can have a slumber party. I’m sure your dad won’t mind.”

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled.” I shake my head. “Let’s try one more time.”

We nudge, and nudge, and nudge, then finally, it opens just a crack more.

“There, let’s see if I can get my humungous muscles through this.”

I laugh but am filled with immense relief when he finally steps through the space and onto the ground outside.

“Freedom,” he whispers, raising a hand in the air victoriously, and I accept his silent high-five.

He closes the window, and I hand him back his hat. “Hurry up,” I urge. “I got roped into buying ice cream after all this.”

“Aw, for me?”

We creep toward Dad’s SUV, Tom’s truck parked next to it.

“This thrill is amazing,” Archer whispers behind me. “Next, we should get arrested together.”

I laugh, though it comes out as a guttural choking sound as I try to keep quiet, which causes him to laugh in return.

We cut across the grass and beneath the tree to get to the drive faster, but halfway there, Archer lets out a quiet, strangled sound. I stare back to discover him fighting off a black specter dangling from the tree.

“What the crap is this thing?” he asks in a whisper with a grunt.

I run forward to help, tears in my eyes as I attempt to quiet my intensifying laughter. “It’s just a decoration,” I say as he continues to whip it away from his face, his height causing the tangle to become even worse.

Checking the house to ensure no one’s looking through the closed blinds of the front room, I blink to focus more clearly and finally get him untangled by ripping the decoration straight from the tree branch.

“Finally,” he breathes in relief.

“Good thing you didn’t freak out,” I tease. “You basically almost died.”

“I’ll have you know, this here fabric is stronger than you think.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

“Fine. Let’s tangle you in it and see if you can escape.”

He swings one end of the fabric around my side and deftly catches the other side with his opposite hand before pulling me toward him with swift movements, the fabric at my hips.