Page 24 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

I told him I didn’t want him or his brothers to stop what they were doing to me, but I don’t think that’s what he’s talking about.

“Refresh my memory.”

“You said you can tell how good a restaurant is by how they make their eggs. And you can tell how good a bar is by how they make a classic cocktail, like a mojito.”

“That is correct, yes.”

“I’ll get a mint julep. You get a mojito. That’s for starters, and then we’ll see where the night takes us from there.”

“A mojito it is, Clyde.”

Once our drinks are placed in front of us, I can feel my muscles relaxing. I haven’t had that first sip yet, but Archer’s presence alone seems to be enough to soothe my nerves. It’s been a hard week, and the next one will be even tougher. But I’m finding that once I’m close to one or all three of the Faulkner brothers, my troubles seem to just melt away.

“How is Trevor?” I ask, then gingerly proceed to taste my mojito. “Oh, God, they nailed it and then some.”

He laughs. “I love being right.”

“Yeah, you were definitely right about this place, though I’ll admit I was skeptical when you first mentioned it.”

“I could tell.” His gaze pierces through my very soul. The world briefly disappears from around us as I lose myself in the green and golden pools of his eyes. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, Dakota. Has anyone ever told you that?”

I shake my head slowly. “No.”

“Some might say it’s not a good thing, especially for a woman working behind the bar, but I like it. I like how I’m able to read you so easily, to almost guess what you’re thinking. It makes everything I want to do to you a whole lot easier and a far morepleasurable experience,” he says, then pauses for a deep breath. “Trevor is fine; he’ll be spending the evening with my brothers. There’s a game on tonight and he seems willing to come out of his tomb in order to watch football. We figured it’s a good place to start.”

I almost lose track of the entire conversation. This man has a way of darting from one topic to another with such speed that I find myself blushing and out of breath as he inches closer.

“What about Maisie?” he asks.

“Oh, she’s with Chelsea.”

“Till when?” He gulps down half of his mint julep, and the scent of that finely crafted drink slips from his lips, tenderly testing my senses as he leans in.

“I said I’d be home around ten,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper.

I know where this is going, and I can’t seem to hit the brakes. I don’t want to.

“Maybe you should tell Chelsea you’ll be a little later,” Archer says.

“Maybe we could get a few more drinks in before I make such a decision,” I retort.

His delicious-looking lips stretch into a devilish grin. The air between us is supercharged. I hold my breath, my heart thudding maniacally as he closes the gap between us and kisses me.

I close my eyes, drowning in a sea of hot white, as I surrender to him. Reed’s kiss was different—tender, curious, excited—andit lit up everything inside of me. Archer’s, on the other hand, is an entirely different experience: sinful, delightful, all honey and lust. It’s causing liquid heat to pool between my legs and my sense of self-control to dissolve into sheer nothingness.

“I think you’ve already made that decision,” Archer says, pulling back for a second. “The minute you walked into the Single Dads Club tonight.”

I think he’s right. With shaky fingers, I take my phone out to text Chelsea while Archer finishes his drink and asks for the check. Everything happens so fast yet so smoothly that I don’t even register the transition until we’re back in his silver Lexus, driving through the city, the evening lights flashing past us like fireflies in a blustery wind.

7

Dakota

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on my left knee. Up ahead, the city center opens up with its majestic historical buildings, glamorous storefronts, street-terrace bars, shimmering lights, and swelling crowds of pub crawlers. We dart up one of the main boulevards, palm trees rising between opposite lanes, before he steers the Lexus into a tight right turn, getting us out of the Friday night chaos.

“I’ve got a penthouse just ahead,” he says, nodding forward.

---