The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

I stayed silent.

Brett crossed his arms against his chest. “We all knew this was going to happen. It just took you a little while to come to terms with it.” He took a drink. “All I can say is, thank fuck you finally did. Your boys here”—he pointed around the table—“have been worried it might be time to stage an intervention.”

I flipped them all off. “Really? You fuckers.”

“You’ve been a damn fool about this entire situation,” Jenner said.

“We’ve been trying to call you out on it, and for some fucking reason, you haven’t been listening, so we were on the verge of doing something outrageous.” I went to respond, and Dominick cut me off with, “Fortunately, we won’t have to. It appears like you’re actually hearing us—and before you say anything, don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same for one of us.”

“Listen, I’m not saying things are going to change between Sydney and me.” I glanced around the table, at each of their faces. “But I hear you. I’m listening. And I don’t necessarily disagree with the things you said.”

“You’ve been looking for reasons not to date her, and they’re all bullshit,” Declan said. “It’s time to stop.”

“Not you too.” I put my hands in the air, surrendering. “All right, all right. I get it. Enough.”

“Do you?” Jenner challenged. “Because I sense you’re about to waste more time, and I’m not having it.”

Dominick pounded my shoulder. “Take it from someone who wasted plenty of time—it’s not worth it, my man.”

“Same,” Jenner agreed.

Brett pointed at his chest. “Guilty of it too.”

“Don’t look at me, fellas,” Declan boasted. “I’m single and proud of it.”

“That makes two of us,” Camden said.

My cousin was the ultimate bachelor who bragged about his one-night stands.

But Declan was different.

Not that he wasn’t a player; he certainly was.

But I had a feeling about him, so I nodded toward him and said, “You know that bastard is going to get married before any of us.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Dominick said. He pulled out his wallet and slapped a hundred on the table.

“I’m in,” Jenner replied, matching his wager.

Brett and I added our money.

“It’s on,” I said.

“Fuck all of you,” Declan said to us. “That pile of cash is going to be mine—I promise you that.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the waitress appeared at our table, her tray filled with two rounds of tequila shots.

“Now that Ford has his goddamn head on straight,” Declan said, holding his shot glass in the air, “let’s get fucking drunk.”

“Thanks for staying out late tonight, Stan,” I said to my driver as he pulled up to the front gate of my property.

“Ford, you know it’s always my pleasure.”

The second the wrought iron gate swung open, a set of headlights immediately shone through the windshield of the SUV, blinding me in the backseat.

“Looks like someone else is here,” he said.

I held my hand above my eyes, like a visor, trying to see who was parked in my driveway, who had breached the security and managed to get through my gate without me knowing.

“It’s Sydney,” Stan added, as though he could read my thoughts. “A rideshare is dropping her off.”

After a bit of squinting, I saw exactly what he had described.

Sydney was shutting the backseat door, her purse wedged under her arm, tugging at the bottom of her dress to lengthen it.

A dress that was so fucking tight that I could see every curve of her body.

Every dip.

Every inch that my hands had once grazed.

Goddamn it.

“I’ll get out right here,” I told Stan, not needing him to pull all the way up to my front door. I climbed out of the back and continued, “Thanks again, buddy. See you Monday.”

The moment my feet were on the ground, Sydney started heading for me. Stan’s headlights, as he turned the SUV around, illuminating her.

Her beauty.

More of her body.

And I was in fucking heaven.

“Ford,” she gasped, “who’s with Everly? I didn’t realize you were out. Oh my God, I hope …” Her voice drifted to nothing as fear filled her face.

Today was Sydney’s day off. I hadn’t seen her since yesterday, and fuck me, I’d missed her. There had been so many times this morning and afternoon that Everly asked if we could go knock on Sydney’s apartment door, my daughter wanting to hang out with her.

But I wouldn’t let her even though I wanted to do the same.

“She’s with my parents.”

Sydney’s hand went to her chest, as though she could finally breathe. “I just had a heart attack.”

I smiled.