Page 38 of Her Silver Fox Mountain Men

“What’s a prosecutor?”

The man from the table next to ours bursts into a hearty chuckle, prompting me to look at him. He’s young, in his early thirties maybe, with short hair so blonde it’s almost white. His eyes are cold and emotionless, sending shivers down my spine. There’s something about him that raises my hackles, but then again, my instincts are always on guard in the presence of an unknown male, especially when my daughters are with me.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “They’re just so darn cute.”

“They can be, but they’re also relentless.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help but overhear while I was enjoying my coffee,” the man says, slowly turning in his seat to fully face us. “I’m Carl, by the way. Just passing through town.”

One look at the guy and that much is obvious. He’s well dressed in a custom-tailored, pinstriped suit, Italian leather shoes, a Maxwell-Scott briefcase on the seat next to him.

“Good to meet you, Carl,” I say.

The girls politely wave at him.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” he responds, raising his cup of coffee as a sign of respect.

Molly brings our order. Within seconds, the twins get busy chomping on the mini croissants, washing them down with their syrupy frothy milk, while I take my sweet time on the Americano.

“What brings you to Rustic?” I ask Carl. He’s trying hard to appear non-threatening, but my caution flags are already waving.

“Oh, just a couple of business meetings in the area. I’m interested in buying a few properties around here and in Boulder. Maybe get a little bed and breakfast business going. I hear the tourism around these parts is booming,” he says.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m a Philly man.”

“Let me try yours,” I hear Tricia say to Ainsley.

“Okay, but then I get to try yours, too,” her sister replies.

“They’re gorgeous,” Carl says, admiring them with genuine fondness. “I would’ve liked to have had a couple of girls of my own.”

“You look young. You still have time.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Unfortunately, my wife and I are separated. There’s no other woman for me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, looking back to my girls.

“These are really good!” Tricia exclaims, taking one of the pastries and offering it to me. “Try it, Daddy. This one’s got apricot jam in it.”

“No, try this one,” Ainsley hands over another pastry. “With chocolate!”

“If you leave them on the plate, I’ll try both,” I chuckle.

“They’re quite precocious, aren’t they?” Carl comments.

“They most certainly are,” I reply, ready to end the conversation with this guy who is increasingly setting off alarm bells in the back of my head.

Almost as if sensing my wariness, Carl gets up and tosses a few bills on the table. “Well, I should be going. It was nice talking to you.”

I nod and watch him walk out the door, comically out of place in Rustic. Hopefully, he’ll be on his way out of town soon. Something about him just didn’t sit right with me.

“Who was that, Daddy?” Ainsley asks.

“Not someone we know,” I reply. “A stranger. How’s your cappuccino, missy?”

“I’ll get the caramel next time.”

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