Page 20 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
I exhale heavily, already getting to know something about this woman. She lives to nurture, which means she’ll feed us and keep us all happy and full through the winters if she has her way. I help her bring in the casserole dish that balances a big bowl ofsalad on top. The weather is typical Pacific Northwest in winter, hazy, cold, and wet. Any day now, we should get the first snow.
Silvie hovers at the edge of the stairway, assessing.
“Sweetheart, help set the table for dinner, please?” I ask.
She nods and gets straight to her task, giving my heart a slight ache. So responsible. Almost as if she’s afraid to let the ball drop. I hate that for my little girl. I want her to be carefree and a little reckless. Adopt some of Lucy’s wild. Not all of it because dear God, I couldn’t handle two of Lucy.
I smile, just thinking about it.
Violet sets down the cookie tray but pauses, staring.
“What?” I ask, pulling back the foil from the casserole dish.
“You were smiling,” she breathes out.
“Pardon?” I ask, confused. “When?”
Her full peach lips quirk up in one corner. “Just now. You were thinking of something that had you smiling in a way I haven’t seen yet. It was stunning to see.”
I clear my throat, feeling heat flush my cheeks. “I was just thinking about a world where there are two Lucys in one household.” I look over my shoulder as Silvie sets down utensils over a napkin on one side, and Lucy’s right behind her, switching the order of everything.
Violet laughs, watching what I see. “I think a house would physically combust from that much energy.”
I chuckle, nodding. “Understatement.” The smell from the garlic bread hits me, and I groan. “Damn. Those look sinfully good.”
“Thank you. They are. Wait till you taste them. Perfect compliment to spaghetti, which smells incredible.” Violet leans over to smell the meat sauce. “Need help?” She points to the pasta that still needs to be poured into the sauce and stirred.
“I got it,” I tell her, coming around the counter and doing just that.
She doesn’t move, putting our bodies in close proximity. Her body heat is a physical wave that laps over my left side.
“Can I have a cookie?” Lucy runs in, asking.
“You’re about to eat, Luce. You know better,” I tell her.
“It’ll be my appetizer,” she negotiates. “Then, I can appreciate your spaghetti more, Daddy.”
“Can you serve each plate?” I ask Violet, who perks up at being asked to help.
“Absolutely,” she smiles, taking over.
I walk over to Lucy and pick her up. “Nice try, Cookie Monster, but salad will be your appetizer.” Her face scrunches in disgust. Laughing, I set my daughter down with a kiss to her full cheek.
“Just think,” Angie says, smirking. “You’ll really appreciate Daddy’s spaghetti after eating yucky vegetables.”
“Blargh!” Lucy fake gags.
“Whoa,” Violet acts aghast. “Who thinks vegetables are yucky?” All three girls stand still, watching but not confessing. “Clearly, you haven’t had fresh veggies from a garden you picked yourself. They are the juiciest, most flavorful. And then, if you prepare them right, there are so many awesome ways to enjoy veggies.”
“Canned vegetables are just fine. Lucy here just has to learn to eat them,” Silvie dismisses, entering the kitchen to grab the plates Violet’s served.
“Canned veggies can be great too. Maybe one day, we can have a kitchen experiment and play with different recipes,” she offers, her eyes flicking my way.
I see what you’re doing, Goldie.
Unapologetically, she reads my look and grins innocently, shrugging.
We settle around the large dining table I bought from Beckett Hunter last year. The conversation goes from enthusiasm for thefood, especially the pull-apart garlic butter rolls Violet brought over. Silvie eats some of Violet’s salad as an example for her sisters. Angie eats a plate as well. Lucy pushes hers around and tries hiding pieces in her napkin. Her loud giggle when she got caught got smiles from even Silvie, who’s determined to be apprehensive toward our guest.
