Page 116 of Grumpy on the Mountain

"Absolutely not," he says immediately, holding his hands up.

"Come on! It's official rescue gear!"

"That pompom is not regulationanything."

"It's adorable!" I protest. "And it matches mine!"

I pull on my own beanie, which has an equally ridiculous pompom but somehow looks cute instead of absurd on my head.

"Get that fucking thing—sorry, Mais." He looks sideways at the child who's grinning with amusement. "Molly, stop! I survived three tours in Afghanistan for the shot at freedom. I'm not wearing a hat with a fuzzy ball on it!"

"Please?" I bat my eyelashes at him. "For me?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with chocolate cake on top?" I gesture toward Betty's magnificent creation.

"Still no."

I switch tactics, leaning closer and lowering my voice to that breathy tone that always makes his pupils dilate.

"If you put it on… I'll make it worth your while later."

Bingo. Now I can see his resolve wavering.

"Fine," he growls. "But if anyone takes pictures—"

"Too late," Sienna announces cheerfully, holding up her phone as I triumphantly place the beanie on Beau's head, carefully arranging it so the pompom sits at just the right angle. "This is totally going on Instagram."

"Like hell it is!" Beau reaches for her phone, but Sienna jumps up and bolts to the bathroom, laughing the entire way. "Christ. Why do I do it?"

The result is... magnificent.

Six-foot-four of pure masculine intimidation, topped with the most adorable fluffy winter hat in existence. It should look ridiculous. It should completely undermine his tough-guy image.

Instead, it's the most endearing thing I've ever seen in my life.

"Oh my God," I breathe, pressing my hands to my heart. "You look so cute I might actually die."

"I look like an idiot," he mutters.

"You look like my idiot," I correct, going up on my toes to press a kiss to his now-pompom-adorned head. "My adorable, sexy, heroic idiot who just took a job that's going to save lives and make a difference and—"

"Okay, okay," he interrupts, but he's smiling now. "Point made."

Around us, the café has erupted into gentle applause and appreciative murmurs. Betty's wiping away what might be tears, Etta and Mabel are looking smugly satisfied with their handiwork, and even Frank has looked up from his crossword to nod approvingly.

And again, it sinks in. This is what family looks like. Not just Sienna and Maisie, but this entire ridiculous, wonderful, meddling community that's decided we belong to them.

"So," I say, settling back into the booth beside Beau, "what happens now? When do you start? Are we going to have to coordinate schedules? Because I havethoughtsabout seeing you in action every day."

"Easy there, tiger," Beau says, his hand finding mine under the table. "Jamie wants me to start next week. Training first, then gradual integration with the team."

"That's perfect! I can show you all the systems, introduce you to the filing protocols, help you set up your workspace—"