Chapter 4

4

Archer

D akota 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."

"Not really. He's about eight months behind at this point."

My brothers and I exchange glances. While we may not utter the words aloud, I can tell the three of us are thinking the same thing. Dakota has been on the receiving end of a whole lot of shit throughout her life, including that no-good ex-husband of hers. Yet she keeps her spirits high, her smile on, and her attitude as sharp and as bold as ever. I like that about her. She's got spunk.

"I'm sorry you're having to deal with such a schmuck," I say, then switch gears completely to lighten the mood. "How's your cocktail?"

"It's pretty good, actually," she chuckles softly. "He used my recipe, from what I can taste. I left them some pretty detailed notes after my last shift here because I had customers telling me that mine were better."

"Oh, I believe it," I reply. "You strike me as a passionate woman."

"I am."

"In all senses?" Reed asks.

That has Dakota flustered, but she doesn't bat an eye as she replies, and I like her even more for it. "Yes."

"How'd you like the Single Dads Club?" I change direction again, curious to see how she keeps up. I do enjoy surprising her. Mostly, I enjoy how her brown eyes widen and twinkle whenever she's faced with a challenge.

"It was an interesting experience, albeit not something I had expected. I came in focused solely on the CPR thing."

"You could stick around next Friday as well. Single mom, dad… It's all the same. We're all in the same boat," I say.

"Fair enough. Though that first session was kind of weird," she laughs.

"It was cute."

"Cute?"

"No," Dakota whispers.

Time stands still for the longest minute. None of us moves. Reed watches her closely, his eyes scanning her face, lingering over her slightly parted, glossy lips. Maddox shifts in his seat, his gaze fixed on hers. I'm so fucking close that all I have to do is press my lips against hers, and it's game over. Instead, I let my hand slide under the table, subtly resting it on her thigh for a few seconds.

A gasp escapes her.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask in a low voice.

She keeps looking around, but when she realizes that nobody's coming, she shakes her head slowly. "I've never been in a situation like this before."

"But it is obvious to you, right?" I reply. "I want you. And I'm not the only one."

"Yeah, I can see that," Dakota says. "But I don't know what to make of it."

Reed reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch has goosebumps dancing across her bare, soft arms. "We're brothers. We share everything," he says.

"Oh."

"Do you want us to stop?" I ask again.

"No."

"Do you want more?" Maddox asks.

She looks at him and holds her breath before her head nods in a tentative yes.

"We need to start somewhere, though," I say, my hand moving down her thigh until I find the slit in her dress. I move it back up, but beneath the fabric this time, my fingers reveling in the sensation of her silky skin. "We don't want to move too fast."

Dakota is helpless. She looks up at me, and I can see the wonder in her eyes. The curiosity. She may have never done anything like this before, but she is definitely responsive. Hell, I think she might take it all the way with the right incentives.

It's a gamble, what we're doing here. But the chemistry between us cannot be denied. It was instant. For a moment, it was even fucking terrifying. I didn't think I'd ever feel this way about anyone, and certainly not this quickly.

"I'll ask you one more time. Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Dakota murmurs and slowly parts her legs for me.

The music keeps playing. The drinks keep getting poured at other tables. I can hear the waiters darting back and forth with glasses, bottles, and plates, the bartenders manning shakers like nobody's business. But what I can hear the loudest is Dakota's ragged breath in my ear as I move my hand closer to her heated core while Reed moves in and kisses her.

Their lips meet, and the fireworks are instant as I find her panties already wet. "Fucking hell, Dakota, you want this just as badly as we do," I conclude with a low growl.

Maddox gets up, carefully looking over the monstera plants before he comes around and settles behind Dakota's seat. "You have the power to put an end to this at any given moment."

But Dakota doesn't push us away. Not yet, anyway. She's too busy succumbing to Reed's kiss while I draw a tender circle over her mound, the wet fabric of her panties giving me even more of that hot desire of hers.

"Oh, wow," she manages as Reed pulls back.

I press harder over her clit. I can feel the tender nub swelling, begging for release, while Maddox's hands settle on her shoulders. Massaging. Squeezing. He bends down and plants a delicate kiss on her cheek at the same time as he cups her breasts through the sundress. Handfuls of soft flesh that make me lick my lips and kiss her other cheek.

This will surely get us banned from the restaurant if we don't take it somewhere else.

I want her mouth on mine more than anything. I want to taste her. I'm just about to when a pair of approaching footsteps brings everything to a halt. We all back away in the span of a split second. Dakota's cheeks are bright pink. Maddox takes his seat. Reed finishes his old-fashioned. And I have a glistening finger over my lips, tasting her sweetness while our gazes lock.

A waiter approaches the table to remove some of the empty glasses. "Would you like to try our dessert menu?" he asks.

"No, thank you, just the check, please," Reed says.

"I would like to go home," Dakota says, her voice so low that I can barely hear her.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods once, but I can feel her stiffening and pulling away from us. I think we reached her limit for today, and the last thing I want to do is push any further. She has already given us more than we had hoped for. It bodes well for the future. For now, however, Dakota has had her fill of decadence.

"I just want to go home," she repeats.

"Not a problem," Reed smiles gently. "I'll drive you home."

"Thank you."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Maddox warns me when we get home.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

The babysitter comes downstairs and greets us both with a warm smile.

"Hey, Becky," I say. "How's the big guy?"

"Sound asleep. He really liked the Science Museum; he was quite chatty about it," she says. Thank heaven for Becky, our teenage next-door neighbor. A trustworthy girl with a heart of gold who's always able to get Trevor out of his shell. I just wish we could figure out a way to do that with him as well. "I'm glad you got him out of the house. He was getting pale."

"Yeah, something akin to a vampire, if we're not careful," I mutter, my mind bouncing between one too many thoughts. Reed is driving Dakota back home, and I keep going back to that warm, wet heat between her legs. The way she shuddered under my touch. "So, he told you he liked his trip to the museum?" I ask, shifting my focus back to Becky. "He barely said a word to us about it."

"You'll hear all about it tomorrow, I'm sure," Becky replies. "He was exhausted. He was up for maybe another hour after you guys left. Oh! How was your date?"

Maddox gives her a hard look. "Who told you we were going out on a date?"

"Trevor did. He said you met a nice lady."

"That blabbermouth," I scoff, genuinely amused. "Doesn't talk to us, but he will yammer away at Becky like it's a frickin' podcast."

"Don't be mad at him. He's just shy, and he's still trying to get used to living here, to this place, to everything," Becky says. "So, tell me, who's the nice lady?"

"She's just a friend," I quip and smile, then take money out of my wallet and hand it over. "For your trouble tonight. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

"Okay, thanks. And it's no trouble."

I watch her head back to her parents' house, closing the door once I see her arrive safely home. I turn around to find Maddox leaning against the staircase railing. "Dakota is… something else," he says.

"I know."

"I'm worried."

"About what?"

"That we'll get too deep. She's different."

I shrug. "We won't. We're careful. We've always been careful. What's scary about it is how responsive she was to us."

We crave intimacy, and Dakota seems to be the unexpected but superbly right answer to our many prayers on the matter. A woman who understands the stress of parenting but also the joys of it. Despite the adversities that she has faced—and I'm sure we've barely scratched the surface of her personal history tonight—Dakota keeps rising above it all.

I'm curious. I want to know more about her. To see her again. To kiss her.

Maddox is right to worry. I'm fucking worried, too, that this might blow up in our faces. But we owe it to ourselves to give it a try and see where it leads.