The Best Mistake

by O'Gorman, Cookie

  His words burrowed inside my chest, gave me the courage to keep going.

  Lifting his hand in both of mine, I placed a kiss on each of his knuckles and then his palm. “I love your hands,” I murmured as he cupped my cheek. “How rough and strong they are. How good they feel against my skin.”

  I went to his jaw next and felt it flex as I ran my fingertips over it. “You chin, this neck…these shoulders.” My hands smoothed across them. “Gah, they’re beautiful. I feel like you could carry the weight of the world—and maybe you do sometimes.”

  Archer shivered beneath my hands as they moved lower.

  Trailing my hand to the bottom of his shirt, pushing up on the material, I said, “Can you take this off?”

  His shirt was on the floor before I could blink. Archer had tugged it up and off with just one hand.

  I lifted a brow. “That was sexy.”

  “Honor,” he said, but it was more of a plea than anything.

  I wanted to give him everything he’d asked for in that one word and more. Skimming my palms along the ridges of his pecs down to his abs, I shook my head. That golden tan of his, the way his muscles rippled and tightened wherever I touched. Real people were not supposed to look like this.

  “Your body is ridiculous.” I sighed.

  “Honor, please,” he laughed—but stopped short a second later when I got to his waistband. My fingers hovered there a moment. Not to tease, but to seek permission.

  “Wherever I want?” I asked.

  Archer gave a tight nod.

  I licked my lips then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants—thanking God when my hands didn’t shake. My hand slowly slid below his belt, palming the hard length of him. The groan that followed was music to my ears.

  “Is this okay?” I said, shifting my hand up, feeling him shake. “I’ve never done this before so—”

  “It’s perfect.” Archer was breathing harder. “You’re perfect.”

  Hardly, I thought but didn’t say. I didn’t want to take him out of this moment. His eyes were on my face, and he looked like he was fighting for calm. But that wouldn’t do. I wanted to see him completely undone, to give him pleasure like he had me.

  “I can’t believe I’m touching you like this,” I murmured.

  Archer nodded, threaded his fingers into my hair. “Wherever and whenever you want.” He dropped his lips to mine in a kiss I felt all the way to my toes. “That feels so good. God, Honor.”

  Hearing him say my name like that made my core tighten. It made me realize just how warm I was, how much pleasure I was getting from the act. The feel of him, the knowledge that I could affect him this way, knowing it was me who was making him come apart like this. It was a heady thing.

  My hand never lost its stroke. Up and down, I felt Archer shake on every upstroke, and there was an answering shake inside of me. His breaths were coming in fast pants now. Leaning in, I put my lips beside his ear.

  “Let go,” I said softly.

  Archer met my gaze.

  “It’s okay. I want to watch.”

  Archer groaned again, and as if he’d needed permission, I watched as he came apart, his eyes closing but his hands still in my hair. I never released him, kept stroking until he was completely spent.

  He surged up after, kissing me hard like the world was coming to an end. His lips were warm and demanding as they moved against mine, the feeling of his tongue a welcome invasion. I just held on for dear life.

  When he leaned back an inch, I said, “So…it was good then?”

  “Better than good, Honor,” he said, his forehead pressed against mine. “I…you…thank you.”

  Inside my heart soared. It sounded like he was speechless, but the feeling in his words was obvious. He sounded euphoric.

  “And now, it’s your turn.”

  Looking up, I caught his hot gaze. “What? No, that’s not why I did that. I wanted to.”

  “I know,” he said, following me as I leaned backwards, a rare smile on his face. Archer almost looked…playful. “And there’s nothing more I want right now ”—he placed a kiss on my lips—”than to see you”—he rolled over, keeping me between his arms—”lose control”—he grinned as I gasped—”because of me.”

  As he stared down at me, I felt my courage rise again.

  “Archer,” I said, reaching up to place my hands on his forearms, “you can touch me wherever and whenever you want.”

  His eyes flared at the words, his words said back to him. As he leaned forward, I lifted my head to kiss him. Our mouths were hot against each other, the flame rekindling, but before it could get any farther, I heard the front door slam, and Charlie’s voice said, “Honey, we’re home!”

  Archer and I broke apart, staring at each other.

  Emmy’s voice came next. “And we brought food. Yummy, yummy Chinese food.”

  “Come out here, and talk to us,” Charlie called. “We have much to discuss.”

  Archer closed his eyes, shook his head, then looked at me.

  “Raincheck?” I said.

  “That’s a promise,” he replied and ran his thumb along my cheek before rolling away to stand. It was almost as good watching him put the shirt back on as it was seeing him take it off. Archer caught me staring and grinned again. “Don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

  “I’m not,” I said, which was true. I couldn’t have done what we just did if I didn’t trust him.

  I stepped out of my bedroom first followed by Archer. We walked to the door side-by-side. Stopping there, Archer dropped down to give me a peck on the nose.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said. Then to the other two occupants of the room who were entirely too quiet, “Emmy, Charlie, I hope you girls had fun.”

  “Not as much fun as you did,” Emmy said, but he ignored that.

  “Bye,” he said again to me.

  “Bye, Archer,” I said back, and then he left, shutting the door behind him.

  “Well then,” Charlie said, studying my face as I turned around, “it appears we have more to discuss than I thought.”

  “Way more,” I agreed.

  I could feel myself smiling but couldn’t seem to stop.

  The girls were really great about the whole Archer thing. They didn’t tease me too much (though there was definitely some teasing, especially considering the fact that I wouldn’t tell them exactly what happened, leaving them to speculate wildly—which they did).

  “Will you guys be having a summer wedding?” Charlie said. “I’ve always wanted to go to one on the beach.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What? I could get a great tan, and obviously, since I’m going to be your maid of honor and all, I’d need to look good.”

  “I thought you said you always looked good,” Emmy said.

  “This is true.” Charlie threw her a smile.

  “Well then, there’s no need to subject yourself to the sun’s harsh rays. Also, a June wedding would be awful for Honor. She’d be so hot in her dress.”

  I sighed. “There’s no wedding, and you guys are crazy.”

  Charlie gasped. “But I already started looking at venues.” More soberly, she added, “Seriously though, Honor. As long as he makes you happy, I’m one hundred percent behind it.”

  Even Emmy seemed okay with me and Archer’s relationship now.

  “You’re a cool chick,” she had said at one point, “and he’s old enough to make his own decisions. If you’re both on the same page, who am I to stand in your way?”

  But were we on the same page? I thought. It sure felt like we were the other night in my bedroom. I hoped we were.

  With a sigh, I checked the time again.

  It was Friday, and I was supposed to meet Dex at a bar called Shake & Pour for his interview. Coincidentally, it was the same bar I’d be meeting the girls at later. Charlie had planned everything. We were having a girls night out to celebrate Emmy’s moving in. It was obvious Charlie and Rose had bonded with her while I was gone at t
he away game. I was glad of it, too. There was nothing so difficult as having to live with people you didn’t like. We’d been lucky to find each other.

  The bar had been Dex’s idea. It’d just opened and was dead at this time of day. We were supposed to meet at 4:00 pm, right when the doors unlocked, but that had been ten minutes ago.

  Dex strolled in at 15 after.

  Dropping his bag to the floor, he took up the seat across from me, put his elbows on the table and just stared. At me. I guess, that was my cue.

  “Hi Dex,” I said. “So thanks for coming. I’m doing interviews of you and your brothers for the school paper.”

  He tipped his chin in a nod. “That’s what Emmy said.”

  “Yeah, it was really great of her to call you and arrange all this,” I said. “I’ve already done everyone else, but you were harder to track down. I guess I saved the best for last, huh?”

  My joke fell on deaf ears because Dex didn’t even crack a smile.

  “Okay,” I said after an awkward pause. Pulling out the sheet of paper, I passed it across the table to him. “Here are the questions. All you have to do is answer them, then turn them back into me, and we’ll be good to go.”

  He glanced down at the sheet then back up to my face.

  “There something wrong?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “But why don’t you just ask me the questions instead? That seems faster.”

  I smiled. “Well, some of them are kind of embarrassing, so I just thought—”

  “For you or for me?” he cut in. “Because if it’s you, to be honest, I don’t really care. And if it’s me, I don’t embarrass that easily.”

  Taking in his hair, buzzed much shorter than the other O’Brien brothers, the silver earrings lining one ear, the tats which I could only see a hint of at his neck, the scar running along the side of his face, his ensemble of all black, and the overall badass vibes he was giving off? Yeah, I could tell self-consciousness was probably not something Dex O’Brien struggled with.

  Still…

  “But this way you can take your time, have some privacy,” I said.

  The next thing I knew Dex had crumbled the sheet with my questions into a ball. I gasped as he tossed it over into the bin behind the bar. The scandalized look on my face seemed to amuse the heck out of him, the perpetual smirk he had because of his scar becoming more pronounced.

  “I’m good with doing it now,” he said.

  His interview was definitely the shortest and strangest of them all. Short because he literally gave one-word answers to almost every question.

  Question: What do you love about baseball?

  Answer: Everything.

  Question: Think you’ll play professionally?

  Answer: (a shrug) Maybe.

  Question: Do you have a girlfriend?

  Answer: Sometimes.

  Question: Would you care to elaborate?

  Answer: Not really.

  It went like this the whole time, but like a good little reporter, I took down his answers without comment. At the end, I had a few specific ones just for him from the fans, so I went ahead and asked those, not expecting much.

  “Can you tell me about your scar?” I asked.

  Dex shrugged. “Got it in a fire. A board fell on me as I was running out.”

  “A fire?” I repeated.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was just a kid. It was the house we grew up in. Bad wiring in the kitchen or something.”

  “Did everyone get out okay?” I asked.

  Dex nodded. “Emmy ran back in there to save the dog, but I ran in after her and pulled her out. It was all good.”

  “Wait,” I said, putting my pen down. “So you ran in to save your sister and ended up scarred because of it? That’s pretty brave.”

  “Nah,” he said, “she was the brave one. She was only nine for God’s sakes, and she just takes off, running into a burning house. She loved that pup like nothing else.”

  I thought he was downplaying his role, but now that he was actually answering in complete sentences, I was afraid to say something to stop the flow of words.

  “So Emmy saved her? The dog, I mean?”

  “Him,” he said. “And yeah, she did.”

  “And you saved Emmy?”

  “I guess.”

  I smiled at that. “I love it when the dog lives in the end. Don’t you?”

  Annnd apparently our bonding time was over because Dex crossed his arms. “Whatever,” he said. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” I said, packing up my pad and pen. “Thanks again for agreeing to meet with me.”

  He grunted. After a beat, he said, “So what’s the deal with you and Archer?”

  Sitting back, I mirrored his crossed-arms position. “Deal?” I asked.

  “Are you seeing him or what?”

  I lifted a brow. “Yes.”

  “That means you like him, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, is it serious? The thing between you guys?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Ah come on, what kind of answer is that?” he said.

  “Yours.” Dex looked confused, so I decided to clarify. “Not so nice is it? When you want info and the person you’re trying to get it from is being all evasive and difficult.”

  As I continued to stare him down, his face suddenly cleared a small smile appearing.

  “Ah honey,” he said, “difficult is my middle name.”

  “I’ll be sure to include that in the article,” I said.

  He gave a slow nod. “You’re okay, Honor.”

  “You, too, Dex.” I stood from the table and shook his hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and change for girls night. Thanks again. It was definitely my hardest interview yet.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, grinning as he ran a thumb over my knuckles, and I shook my head.

  “You guys really are shameless aren’t you?” I asked.

  In answer, Dex shrugged and walked away, leaving me there staring at his back.

  Difficult, I thought.

  Yeah, that’s an understatement.

  “Alright, who told them we’d be here?”

  Glancing up, I looked over to where Charlie was glaring and froze.

  “I thought we agreed not to tell Team Testosterone we were coming,” she said. “That it would be more fun without Emmy’s brothers tagging along. Rose?”

  Rose held up her hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me.”

  “Honor?” Charlie said. “Did you say something to Dex when you interviewed him today?”

  Thinking back on it, I remembered the parting shot I delivered then winced. “I may have inadvertently revealed our plans for girls night.” She groaned, and I hurried to add, “But I didn’t tell him when it was or where we were going.”

  As we watched them enter, one after the other, Dex and the bartender did one of those hugs guys do where they hit each other on the back. They exchanged a few words, then I saw the guy tip his head in our direction.

  “Just our luck,” Charlie said on a sigh. “They have a guy on the inside. The bartender is a narc.”

  Five sets of gray eyes landed on our booth in the corner, and a moment later, the brothers started heading our way.

  “And here they come,” Rose murmured. “Damn, they look like an ad for Hot-Athletes-R-Us or something. Someone should give those guys a modeling contract. Or write a book series about them.”

  “Walter says they’re like a boy band,” I added.

  “That works, too” she said.

  It was sort of intimidating, seeing them in line, moving as a unit like that. My eyes snagged on Archer’s as they drew closer. He was looking at me, too, and though I hadn’t had any alcohol, my head felt a bit tipsy as he drew nearer. They stopped at our table, and surprisingly, Dex was the first to speak.

  “Where’s Emmy?” he said, looking around the bar.

  Charlie gave him a look. “What are you, her babysitter? She’s in the bathroo
m if you must know.”

  “She shouldn’t be here at all,” Archer said, still looking at me. “Our sister’s underage.”

  Emmy and June walked up then and joined us.

  “Hey guys,” Emmy said with a smile, looking at her brothers. “You here for girls night? Because I must say, the look on all your faces is pretty freaking grim.”

  “What are you doing here?” Archer said.

  Emmy’s chin went up a fraction. “I’m here to celebrate my new living arrangement with my girls. Don’t ruin it.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, “we’ve got her back. You guys can scurry off and play with your balls and bats or whatever it is you do when you’re not being mood killers.”

  Chase coughed a laugh.

  “Junior,” Baylor said and crossed his arms. “I’m disappointed. How’d you two even get in here?”

  “Me? You’re singling me out?” June said, shaking her head. “How did Finn get in? He’s still in high school.”

  The youngest O’Brien brother shrugged. “Fake ID.”

  “Well, same for us.”

  Baylor held out a hand. “I’m going to need to confiscate those.”

  Emmy’s eyes widened. “Jeez, Bay, stand down. I know for a fact you’ve been going to clubs since you were what, seventeen? Don’t pull the protective big brother act now.”

  “Sixteen,” Baylor said. “But that’s beside the point. You’re not me, and you and June should go home.”

  “We’re not even drinking,” Emmy said, holding up the water bottle she’d been nursing all night. “I think you should leave, and let us get back to having a good, sober time.”

  “Hear, hear,” Charlie said, clinking her glass on the table. She was drinking Ginger Ale as we’d all decided to be alcohol-free in solidarity.

  Rose crossed her arms. “You gotta admit it’s a bit hypocritical.”

  “Why don’t we all just stay?” It was Chase who had spoken, and every eye shifted to him. “Seems like the best solution. Emmy gets to stay and be with her friends, and we get to relax and watch over her. It’s a win-win.”

  There was some general grumbling, but no one could argue with his logic.

  Archer nodded. “We stay. But if there’s trouble, we’re getting you out of here as fast as possible.”