Page 16 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

4

Archer

Dakota is nervous and then some.

I can’t really blame her. We kind of sprang this on her but I like how she’s responding to each twist and turn. She’s kept her chin up and her beautiful smile on, and she’s powered through the entire day like a champ.

At the museum, she was deep in mom mode. Careful, attentive, observant, and cautious, looking out for both Maisie and Trevor. As soon as we dropped the kids off, however, she shifted into this goddess in a sundress, her blonde hair flowing over one shoulder. It’s hard to look away. The deep plunge of her décolleté has my blood simmering and my pants getting tighter, her full breasts wrestling against the stretchy fabric.

“Would you like to try the mojito?” Reed asks her, offering to share his drink.

“You said it’s the best in town?” Dakota replies. He nods once. “It was only the best in town when I made it,” she adds with a half-smile. “But I’ll try it, nonetheless. Thank you.”

“You worked here?” I ask, surprised.

She gives me a brief glance before her lips close around the metallic straw, and I have a mind of tearing that dress off her right here, right now. This woman has no clue as to how magnetic she is, with generous curves and a plump and saucy figure… damn, the gods made her for us, and we’d be fools not to claim her. That is if she’ll have us.

Judging by the glances she keeps stealing at each of us, I think we’re on the right track for the first time in years, which is why it’s imperative that we do not scare her away.

“Just a few nights here and there,” Dakota says. “They still call me in for special events, but their in-house mixologist doesn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, so they haven’t been able to make a more permanent offer.”

“So that’s what you do for a living?” Reed asks. “Bartending?”

“Not just bartending. Mixology is a mixture of science and art, to be honest. It’s chemistry and design. Every drink I create can take you on a magical journey, depending on your mood and your reason for drinking. Anybody can unscrew a bottle and pour a shot of vodka. What I do is way more complex.”

I can tell from the passion in her voice that she loves what she does. It fascinates me. I’ve met my share of dedicated hospitality professionals, but the glow in Dakota’s eyes is something else entirely.

“Is this what you’ve always wanted to do?” I ask.

She nods once. “More or less, yeah. I’ve always had a thing for flavors. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m not half-bad in the kitchen, either.”

I’m also pretty sure she’s not half-bad in the bedroom. Damn, she’s got me spinning around in circles, and she doesn’t even realize it. If she does become aware, she could easily become the most dangerous woman in San Francisco, particularly if she plays her cards right. Reed is already head over heels for her. I could see it on his face last night. The way he went after Dakota to give her his business card, not letting her get away without a way to contact her. I knew he was hooked.

“Why’d you leave the Marines?” she asks us.

“We were getting too old to keep getting shot at,” I bluntly reply. “So, when our last assignment was over, we decided not to re-up. Where’s Maisie’s father?”

She gives me a look. I realize I went straight for the jugular, changing directions abruptly. But we need the truth if we’re to take this any further.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“You’re a single mom. Maisie was not the result of immaculate conception, was she?”

Dakota frowns and glances down for a moment. I may have struck a sensitive chord, but it’s better to weed the bad stuff out now than stumble upon it later.

“We’re divorced. He was never fully into fatherhood to begin with. When I got pregnant with Maisie, he kept talking about the future, about everything we’d do together as a family. Until he decided, one day, out of nowhere, that he simply wasn’t cut out to be a dad and that Maisie and I would be better off on our own. So, he left me a note and hopped on one of those month-long cruises across the Pacific as a bartender.”

“Fucking coward,” Maddox mutters.

“Not everyone is meant to become a parent, I guess,” Dakota sighs.

“But it is a man’s responsibility to provide for his family, whether he’s meant to become a parent or not,” I say.

“Does he do that, at least?” Reed asks.

Dakota seems confused. “You mean child support and stuff?”

“Yes.”

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