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They’ll come through in three… two…
The door swings wide, and Fletch bursts in with the sweet Mia bouncing on his hip, her hands thrust in the air like she’s being carried into a rave.
“Aunty Minka!” she shouts loud enough to have eyes turning her way.
But this particular four-year-old is a regular inside this bar, so no one except me, Fifi, and Aubree give her more than a few seconds of attention before going back to their drinking and festivities.
“Oh my gosh! Aunty Minka, you’re alive!” She wiggles to be put down, and takes off the second Fletch releases her. Behind him, Arch steps through the doorway, but he’s left in the child’s dust as she barrels our way and shoves cops aside to get past.
I drop my phone on the bar, nausea already trickling into my stomach at the thought of our impending collision. But when Mia bounds from the floor from three feet away, it’s Fifi who slides off her stool and catches the smallest Fletcher mid-flight and saves me from agony.
“You have to be careful.” Fifi’s words aren’t harsh, and her hands are gentle enough to almost be a hug—which is sweet, considering I’m pretty sure she’s allergic to children. Then she sets Moo on the bar between us and pats down the toddler’s fluffy tutu. “Aunty Minka’s pretty sore in her arm,” she explains. “But you can see her from there, huh? I like your skirt.”
“Thanks!” Moo’s face lights up as she drops her hands to fluff the material of her skirt. “It’s like my mommy’s skirt. She was a dancer, and I’m gonna be a dancer.”
“And we all know, I justadoredancers.” Fletch comes to a stop in front of me, but his eyes are all for the standoffish Fifi. “It’s like there’s thiscagewrapped around my heart,” he taunts. “But when I get to hang out with dancers, thecagegoes away, and I’m super happy again.”
“Uh-huh!” Mia chatters, oblivious to her father’s obnoxious jabs.
Archer comes to a stop close enough to me that his chest touches my good shoulder, and his aftershave fills my lungs. He’s fast and slick, in the way he moves me off my stool and takes my place. Then he pulls me onto his lap and presses a kiss to the back of my bad shoulder, right where a jagged scar now lives, and stitches slowly dissolve away.
“You look completely wrecked,” he croons near my ear, dark and gritty and sultry enough to make my stomach dip. “Like, knocking on death’s door. You didn’t think to sit the hell down and relax?”
“Says the detective who was on duty within days of being shot.” I lean back against his chest—and swallow down the pain that ricochets through my body with the movement. Resting on him is worth it.Entirely and totally worth it.“I was careful. And it’s the end of the day. I’m always tired by dinnertime.”
“Sure. But add in that life-threatening surgery and blood-clotting disorder…”
“I’ll infuse tonight.” I rest my head on his shoulder, and grin when his hands come to my hips. His strong fingers knead my skin, and his palms cup my body so I feel completely and utterly secure. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”
“Me too.” He presses a kiss to my temple and draws a pattern against my thigh with the tip of his finger.
“Did you call Felix yet?” I angle my head so I can look up and meet his perfect green eyes. “You might solve your murder easily with a single phone call.”
“Seriously.” Fletch, catching our conversation, leaves poor Fifi alone and turns toward us. “I think he should make that phone call, too. On speaker, so we all get to listen. It’ll be open and shut after that.”
“I’ll call him in a bit,” Archer huffs. “But it wasn’t him.”
The clang of a plate hitting the bar has us turning, then an appreciative smile stretches across Archer’s face as Tim settles my food down beside Mia.
The girl’s eyes brighten, and her belly rumbles audibly, but before she can steal my dinner, he sets a ‘hot dog on a stick’ down on a separate plate, and winks for her when she vibrates with happiness.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, beautiful.” He brings his gaze back to me. “Eat. Don’t make me shove it down your throat.”
“You’re aggressive.” But I allow Archer to turn us, and breathe a sigh of relief when, looking closer at my burger, I find it already cut in half. Easier for my one-handed self to manage. “Lucky for you,” I quip petulantly, “I’m starving. So I’ll eat anyway.”
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself.” He stops on Aubree, holding her eyes for a long beat. “I’ve got yours coming in a sec.” Then he adds, “Chicken sandwich, sweet potato fries, and a scoop of ice cream to dip the fries in.”
Her lips curl higher than even Mia’s did. But where the child was audibly ecstatic, Aubree keeps her emotions closer to her chest. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” Grabbing a tea towel from his back pocket, he brings his focus back to his brother. “Tough day?”
“I’ve had worse,” Archer murmurs. “Burger?”
“Already on the grill.” His eyes slide to Fifi. “And I’ve got extra sweet potato fries going for you. Separate fryer, no meat crossover. And a salad that Daisy helped me whip up earlier.”
“Uh… excuse me?” Fletch stretches his neck and inserts himself between Tim and Seraphina. Jealous to the core, he can’t stand for someone else to be the focus of Fifi’s attention. “Did you cook me dinner, too, Timothy? I’m hungry as well.”
