“To teamwork,”Archer said a couple of hours later, holding out his Corona bottle.
I clinked my margarita glass against his beer. “Teamwork.”
We’d done it. Rod and Andrea had made it a race, but I’d gotten into a zone with the slingshot and ended up landing more pucks in the baskets than Archer did. It was seventeen pucks to thirteen, but who was keeping score?
I was. I wanted Archer to know I was as strong and capable as anyone out here. It was a matter of winning, but more than that, a matter of pride. No one would carry me to the finish line—I’d race through it on my own.
“I’ve never appreciated the taste of a beer so much,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Or even having a chair to sit in while I drink it.”
The Exiled production team had set up a dining table and plush, comfortable dining chairs for us on the beach. Between the umbrella over our table and the breeze, we were comfortable.
“This margarita is basically a mouth orgy,” I said. “Between the ice, the salt, and the sourness of it…God, I don’t even care how hungover I am tomorrow.”
I tipped the glass back and drained it. Archer looked on in amusement.
“Guess the dehydration will be worth it?”
“Totally worth it.”
Our sever brought over a basket of rolls, and I grabbed one before the basket was even on the table.
“I’ll bring you another margarita, ma’am,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, biting into the roll. “Oh my God. I may cry. It’s so soft and delicious.”
“It’s good to see you so happy,” Archer said, watching me eat as he sipped his beer.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about his statement. Had he cared about my happiness when we broke up? Did he pity me?
Another server approached us, tray in hand. “I have dinner salads for you both. Would you like fresh-cracked black pepper?”
Hell yes we would. We fell into silence, both of us devouring everything that was put in front of us.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, we’d both eaten two steaks and as much of the sides as we could manage. I was on my fifth margarita and Archer had put back ten beers. Or was it eleven?
I laughed, because it didn’t matter. We’d won the competition and eaten a fabulous meal. Considering how excited I’d gotten over a handful of gummy bears this morning, this was a big deal.
“Where will you donate the money if we win?” I asked Archer.
He nodded his thanks to the bartender as a fresh beer was delivered.
“When we win, I’m giving the money to my grandpa’s foundation for wounded veterans,” he said. “How about you? What will you do with the money?”
“Start college funds for my nephews. Probably buy a house.” I ran my tongue around the rim of my glass. “Did I tell you how good this salt tastes? It tastes tasty.”
He grinned. “A few times. I think you’re in your margarita happy place.”
“I am. Can I just live here?”
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it?”
His eyes held mine. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have looked away. Archer had always had a way of just…capturing me when he wanted to. He also had a way of letting me go.
“It’s unfortunate you’re so hot,” I said.
His lips quirked up in a smile. “You mean unfortunate?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I don’t think you’re in the best state for pronouncing four-syllable words right now.”
“Another margarita, ma’am?” our server asked.
“No, she’s good,” Archer answered for me.
“I’m not good. I’m bad.” I laughed, though I wasn’t sure why. “Another one would be great, John.”
Archer gave me a look. “His name is Juan, and you knew that two margaritas ago.”
“You’re not the boss of me. I’ll drink as much as I want.”
He shook his head. “Awesome. Just don’t puke in our shelter.”
“I’ll puke wherever I want.”
He glanced over at the makeshift kitchen that had been set up for our dinner to be cooked in. “Looks like they’re packing up. Time for us to go, Lo.”
I sighed heavily and held out my index finger. “One more drink.”
“Really? Because you just held up three fingers.”
I burst out laughing. “Here’s one for you.”
Of course, it was my middle finger. Archer shook his head and stood up, clapping Juan on the shoulder.
“Thanks for an amazing evening, man. We loved everything.”
“It was our pleasure.” Juan gave me an uncertain glance. “Do you need help getting her back to your camp?”
“No,” I answered for him, getting up.
When I moved away from the table, I stumbled. Archer was there, putting his arm around me and throwing my arm around his neck.
“Nah, I’ve got her,” he said. “Thanks.”
“He’s always the hero, Juan,” I said. “Until he breaks your heart and forgets about you. And then you—” I pointed at our server. “You end up googling him every month or so to see if he got married and you missed it, so you don’t start crying when you hear it from someone at Walmart. Good times.”
“Lo,” Archer said in a low tone.
“Who’s that?” I squinted at a shadowed form a few yards away.
“That’s Nutter, and he’s filming us. Let’s talk about how great that dinner was, okay?”
“You know what, Archer?” I leaned against him, my limbs suddenly heavy. “I’m great. I really am. And I loved you so much. I would have been a great wife to you. Why didn’t you want me?”
“You don’t want to do this right now,” he said, his tone so hushed it was almost a whisper.
The cool sand beneath my feet and the rhythmic sound of lapping waves lulled me into a deep relaxation.
“I just want to go to sleep. Can I lie down?”
“I’ll carry you.”
We stopped, and Archer picked me up. I nestled my head into the crook of his neck, my eyelids sliding closed.
“Go to sleep,” he said softly. “Hopefully you won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”