Page 37 of Her Silver Fox Mountain Men

Maybe he already has.

15

James

Shopping for Halloween costumes is becoming a bigger hassle each year. As the girls grow, so does their taste in the macabre—which fills me with equal parts dread and admiration. They are brave little girls, barely afraid of anything.

We stop for a break at a quaint café on Main Street. As soon as we enter, Ainsley spots an available table. "Open seats, Daddy!”

“Go grab ’em!” I reply, letting the girls bolt ahead.

I put the shopping bags on a spare chair at our table while Ainsley and Tricia eagerly take their seats. “What are we having?” I ask.

“Can I have a cap… cappa… what’s it called again?” Ainsley gives me the cutest frown, her ginger curls bouncing with every move.

“A cappuccino,” I chuckle softly. “Sure. Without the coffee, though.”

“Can they put vanilla syrup in it?” Tricia asks.

“I’m sure they can.”

“I want hazelnut syrup,” Ainsley declares.

The waitress giggles upon reaching our table. She must’ve overheard the conversation. “My, my, we have diverse preferences, I see,” she quips and gives me a warm smile. “Hey, Mr. McTierney. Welcome back.”

“Hey, Molly,” I reply with a friendly smile.

She’s seventeen and the daughter of the café’s owner, who also happens to be one of our higher-paying customers in Rustic. She’s a sweetheart through and through, and a hard-working girl. “What can I get for you, sir? I already got the vanilla and hazelnut caps for these feisty young ladies.”

“An Americano would work wonders at this point,” I say. “Can you throw in a plate of those mini croissants for us as well? It’s not too late I hope.”

“Not too late; we’ve got plenty left.”

“Thank you.”

She leaves a water jug and three glasses, then heads back to the counter to get our order going.

Tricia smiles as she stares at the shopping bags. “Can we open them now, Daddy?”

“I know you’re excited, honey, but we agreed we’d wait until we get home,” I remind her.

“But I wanna see if the dress fits.”

“Didn’t we check that at the store?”

She rolls her eyes and leans back into her chair, crossing her arms with a slight pout. She’s the spitting image of her mother,I swear. Ainsley watches Tricia and proceeds to mimic her every gesture. Great. They’re both the spitting image of their mother. I may have lost Laura, but I gained two mini-Lauras. And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for it.

“Where’s Elise?” Ainsley asks.

“She’s at work,” I tell her. “We’ll see her at home later for dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?” Tricia asks.

“I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of an interrogation,” I shoot back with a soft smile.

“Are we having Italian again?” Tricia is relentless.

I can’t help but laugh. “You’re going to make a fine prosecutor someday.”

---