Page 10 of A Moon Lake Christmas Hero

“Okay, Cupcakes, are you ready?”

Both girls—standing on chairs—nodded. And their adorable matching chef’s hats bobbled with the movement.

“One, two, three.” All three of them flung their pancakes into the air and surprisingly caught them in unison.

“Good job, guys,” James said.

They high-fived each other, and my heart squeezed tight.

Then James looked up with a smile on his face and gave me a wink.

This was a man born to be a dad, who loved his girls enough to take the time to teach them how to fling pancakes, no matter the mess they created in the process, and looking at their stained matching aprons, there would be a lot of cleaning up to do later.

Superman indeed.

“Erin, come join us. Coffee?” he asked with that deliciously deep voice that sent a shiver over me.

He held my gaze captive with his eyes—waited for my nod—then filled a cup and placed it, together with milk, sugar, and a spoon—on the bar on the other side of the kitchen island, opposite to where the three of them were standing.

I stretched his T-shirt farther down, self-conscious, even though it was modest enough and already came down to almost my knees.

His eyes followed the movement of my hands, and his gaze slid over my thighs.

Like an invisible caress.

I shivered, and his eyes immediately snapped back to my face.

He took a deep, pained breath, then closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry. How inconsiderate of me. I should’ve provided shorts.”

The doorbell rang, and the twins climbed down from their chairs and ran to get the door.

“Dad, it’s Uncle Bailey.”

He raised a finger, signaling he would be a second, turned off the stove, then disappeared.

It took a while, and I made my way over and hopped on a bar stool, fixed my coffee, then gathered the cup in my hands.

The first sip was amazing.

I turned around, enjoying the view. The lake, the snowy mountains, the trees. This property and house must’ve cost a fortune.

I turned slightly. The living room was huge—needed to be to house the enormous tree.

The girls came back and climbed up, and took the seats next to me.

“Uncle Bailey is the best,” one of them said, and I realized I didn’t even know their names.

“He is? That’s great. I’m Erin.” I offered her my hand, and she took it. “What’s your name?”

“Abby,” she said. I noticed a little birthmark on the left side of her jaw and filed that information away, then I turned to the other twin with my outstretched hand.

“Erin.”

“I’m Marley; I’m the oldestest.”

She grinned when her sister harrumphed.

A little sibling rivalry already?

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