Page 69 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

Keith measures each of the brothers from head to toe, lips tightening into a frustrated line. He can tell they’re not bluffing. He knows he’s in over his head. I don’t know what he was hoping to gain by coming here, but it didn’t work out in his favor. He gives me one last look before he walks away.

“I’ll see you in court,” he mutters.

Reed closes the door with a loud thud, then locks it for good measure. “That shameless son of a bitch.” He comes over and gently takes me in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But that’s a lie. The room is spinning, but I hold onto him until the dizziness passes and until I’m able to look him in the eye and try to go on as if nothing happened. “Breakfast is ready.”

I don’t know what Keith got out of this, but I do know that his heightened interest spells trouble ahead. The wedding is two weeks away, and we can’t let anything or anybody get in our way.

“You’re anything but fine,” Archer notices, setting the envelope on the side table by the door. “He spooked you.”

“He spooked me because the three of you showed up practically naked at the door,” I reply, slightly irritated. “How do you think that’s going to sound in court?”

“We’re brothers, sharing a house,” Archer replies with a nonchalant shrug.

“With a woman and two children,” I remind him.

He grins coolly. “Yeah, but Keith doesn’t know the details. It’s not exactly the first scenario that people are going to think of.We know what we do behind closed doors. To everyone else, we’re just a unique family. You’re about to marry our brother.”

“On top of that, our reputations are pristine,” Reed proudly reminds me. “We’re respected businessmen and pillars of the community. The ladies over at Social Services love us. And they love Trevor.”

I run my fingers through my hair, still trembling and shaken to the core. “My God, you make it sound so easy.”

“That’s because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, it is,” Reed gently insists. “Don’t let Keith get into your head, Dakota. He was just being a dick because he was faced with irrefutable proof that you’ve moved on. Not only that, but you’re happy and well taken care of. That renders him even more useless. He’s a small man. He can’t take that. His ego is crushed.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to just ignore everything that just happened?” I ask him, my hands resting on his broad chest.

“No, but don’t take him too seriously. He’s a fucking clown,” Reed replies. “He doesn’t stand a chance in court. And once you get your inheritance, you’ll be able to bury him. Literally, if you know the right people.”

“I know the right people,” Maddox grumbles. “I’ll gladly make the call.”

“No.” I nervously laugh, hoping what Maddox said was just a dark joke.

25

Dakota

It’s late when I finish a shift at The Roxbury, a venue that calls me every other weekend to cover for their bartenders. The customers seem to love me whenever I’m around. More than once, they’ve complimented my mixology skills within the bar manager’s earshot, but it’s still hard to get a steady gig these days.

We set the wedding date. December 17th. The day that will change everything is literally just around the corner. I’m walking on a razor-sharp edge, hoping that everything runs smoothly and nothing gets in our way. I’m done stumbling and crashing, then picking up the pieces afterward.

As I leave the venue, marveling at how empty the streets are at this late hour, I find Callie waiting next to my car. She’s going through her phone, so she doesn’t see me right away, which gives me a brief moment to carefully analyze her.

The tight jeans and expensive sneakers say casual but stylish, while the zebra-pattern top with a deep plunging neckline spells trouble. Her red hair is straightened and flowing over one shoulder, and there’s a thick layer of mascara casting a heavyshadow over her glistening eyes.

“Hey, Callie,” I say, cautious in my approach. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey, Dakota,” she replies, lighting up as she sees me. She struggles to smile, though I don’t think it’s because of me. It doesn’t feel personal this time. “I remember you said you were doing shifts at The Roxbury once or twice a week.”

“Yeah, but how’d you know I’d be here tonight?”

“I called the bar. I think it was the hostess who picked up and told me what time you were getting off,” Callie says. “I was in the neighborhood, I saw the bar, and I thought of you. Figured we could talk for a little bit.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and lean against my car next to her. “What’s up?”

She gives me a long, curious look, then chuckles dryly. “You had me going with that whole Archer-is-my-fiancé thing. What was the point?”

“Misdirection,” I tell her, according to Archer. “I couldn’t exactly trust you, could I?”

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