Page 18 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Josie

I wake up nauseous.

Not the I had too much wine kind of nauseous. This is deeper, heavier. It curls in my gut and won’t let go. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my stomach, willing it to settle.

It doesn’t.

I chalk it up to stress. Too many late nights over the last few weeks, too much overthinking. And Knox. Always Knox. His voice, his touch, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room, and now, the way he watches me like I’m already gone.

Guilt’s a hell of a drug.

I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. Splash cold water on my face. Avoid my reflection. I’ve gotten good at pretending I’m okay, at smiling through the ache in my chest. But this morning, even pretending feels like too much.

After forcing down two saltines and half a ginger tea, I pull on jeans and a hoodie and head downstairs to the Timberline Inn’s breakfast table for a nice quiet morning with my mother and sister.

Well, that’s the plan.

The door swings open with the force of a small hurricane.

“Helloooo, Timberline!” a voice bellows.

I jerk my head up in time to see a man in neon joggers, a sleeveless gym shirt, and enough charisma to power a Vegas strip club strut into the lobby like he owns the place.

“Oh, no,” I whisper under my breath.

“Yes,” the man says to me , apparently. “You must be Josie.”

I blink. “Sorry, do I know you?”

He winks. “Only by reputation.”

Mom pokes her head out from the back office. “Everything all right out here?”

“Oh yes,” the man says brightly. “I’m meeting the one and only Josie. The woman Knox forgot to warn me about.”

That makes me freeze.

Ah. This is the man I saw Knox with at Silver Peak the other day. The hurricane in human form. Apparently, he’s staying here .

“Name’s Jace. Jace Steele,” he continues. “Room 204. Lovely view, terrible WiFi. And you,” he gestures to me with a wide sweep of his arm, “look like you’re a very fun chef.”

I stare at him. “Are you always like this?”

“Only before breakfast,” he says cheerfully. “After that, I get really annoying.”

My mom appears behind the counter now, eyebrows raised, clearly entertained.

“Morning, Mrs. Dawson,” Jace says smoothly, like we’ve all met before in some alternate reality. “Love the place. It has more charm than a Vermont Christmas movie. I might never leave.”

“God help us,” I mutter.

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Ah, got it. You’re a feisty one. I see why Knox likes you.”

I feel my face heat. “You don’t even know me.”

“True,” he says easily, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “But you seem like a great laugh. We must hang out while I’m here.”

I roll my eyes but have nothing to say back.

How do you deal with a man like this?

Mom’s still watching us, clearly enjoying the free show. “Would you like some coffee, Jace?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I sigh and drop into a chair, rubbing my temples.

So much for a quiet morning.

I’m still muttering curses under my breath when I head outside for some air. The chill hits my cheeks, and for a second, it’s grounding. Crisp mountain breeze, the smell of pine, distant birdsong. Peace. Quiet.

Until the front door creaks open behind me.

I don’t have to look to know it’s Dee.

“What the hell was that?” she says, stepping up beside me, arms crossed, brows lifted like she’s about to stage a full interrogation.

“Apparently, that’s Jace Steele. Knox’s friend. Human foghorn. Possibly possessed.”

Dee snorts. “He makes Maya look subtle.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” I murmur with a half-smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s got eyes in the walls.”

Dee nudges me gently. “You okay?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know. I’m tired. And I feel like everyone suddenly has a front row seat to my personal life, and I didn’t even get to write the damn script.”

She studies me for a beat, her dark eyes soft. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I admit. “But I do need coffee. A lot of it.”

“Well, then,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go get caffeinated.”

We walk down Main Street in companionable silence, the kind I’ve always appreciated with Dee. She doesn’t push, doesn’t fill every pause. Just is . And right now, that’s what I need. We turn the corner and head toward the restaurant.

I know we could get coffee elsewhere, but I just want my drink.

As soon as we step inside, I spot Nova behind the counter, adjusting a flower arrangement like it personally offended her. Her hair’s up in a loose knot, her sleeves rolled to the elbows, a pencil tucked behind one ear.

She looks up when she sees us, and, someone help me, the shift in her expression is immediate.

Dee stiffens beside me.

Nova’s whole face lights up.

“Oh hey,” she says casually, like her voice didn’t just go all soft and smoky. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”

Dee clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m getting coffee with Josie before she starts work.”

Nova gestures toward the bar area. “I just made a fresh pot of the hazelnut blend you like.”

Dee blinks. “You remembered that?”

When did they even discuss that?

Have I been so wrapped up in my own messy story that I haven’t seen something unraveling under my very nose?

I dart my eyes between the pair of them.

Nova shrugs, but she’s smiling now, really smiling, like her insides just cracked open. “Of course.”

I step toward the counter to give them space, under the guise of looking for Knox.

Not that I even know what I’d say if I found him. But some reckless part of me keeps hoping he’ll look at me the way Nova just looked at Dee. Like there’s no one else. Like maybe there’s still a real chance, and this isn’t just casual hook-ups between us.

Dee, who always plays it cool. Nova, who’s the definition of composed. And yet, the vibe between them could melt the ice off Mount Rainier. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The quiet little lean of Dee’s shoulders. The way Nova tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and won’t stop glancing up.

I grab two mugs off the counter and pour myself coffee just to have something to do with my hands.

From the kitchen, I can hear Knox’s voice and the low rumble of Jace making some kind of scene. Again.

I take a sip, trying to focus. But my chest still aches with this stupid, quiet want.

I miss talking to Knox. I miss the way we felt.

Easy, hot, magnetic. I miss the way he looked at me like I was worth every complication.

And even now, when I know I should keep space between us, every cell in my body still leans toward him.

It doesn’t help that the room is full of flirting. They’re standing a little closer now. Nova’s laughing at something Dee said, her hand brushing lightly against Dee’s wrist as she passes her a napkin.

Yep.

There are definitely sparks there.

By the time Dee and I finish our coffee, and whatever charged moment that was between her and Nova, I'm half hoping Knox is still busy wrangling Jace and won’t have time to talk. But of course, life has other plans.

As I help Nova prep the dining room for the lunch shift, I feel him before I see him. The way the air changes. Like I’m suddenly too aware of everything, my hands, my breathing, the heat climbing up my neck.

Then his voice, low and warm, cuts through the quiet.

“Need a hand with that?”

I glance up, and there he is, Knox, leaning against the edge of the counter like sin incarnate in a black tee and that look in his eyes that always seems to unravel me.

“I’m good,” I say, not unkindly, just cautious. I reach for a stack of menus, trying to stay focused, but he follows me anyway.

“You’ve been busy lately,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, gentle, pointed.

“Yeah,” I murmur, smoothing down the tablecloth. “Lots going on.”

“I miss you.” His voice is quieter this time.

I freeze for half a second. Then I smile, because it’s easier than letting myself react. “You see me every day.”

“You know what I mean.” He steps closer, and then, please help me, he brushes a piece of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear like we’re in a damn movie.

My knees go a little soft. I almost lean into his touch.

Almost.

Because then, like a lightning bolt, I remember the look on Gracie’s face when she sat across from me on her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled.

“Article from five years ago. Bar fight. DUI rumors. Another about him being ‘uncoachable.’ And wait. Oh. Savannah Monroe.”

I know it was five years ago.

I get that he can change.

But I still need to know that this isn’t going to be just a short-term thing.

I step back before I can talk myself out of it.

“It’s messy,” I say, fiddling with a napkin. “You and me, here. Working together. If it goes wrong, it doesn’t just blow up our personal lives. It messes with the restaurant. With everything.”

His brow furrows. “You didn’t care about that before.”

“I didn’t think about it before,” I lie.

His jaw tightens, but only for a second. Then he exhales, slow and steady, like he’s trying not to push too hard.

“I’m not going anywhere, Josie. And I’m not scared of messy.”

“You should be,” I whisper, barely able to look at him. “It never ends well.”

We stand there in silence, the clatter of the kitchen muffled in the background, tension stretching tight between us.

Then, mercifully, Nova calls my name from the bar, breaking the moment. I murmur something about needing to check the seating chart and practically bolt.

Because the truth is, I want him.

I want his hands, his mouth, the way he makes me feel like the only thing in the room. But I can’t shut off the part of me that saw that video, that read those articles, that listened to Gracie read aloud the words controlling and dangerous like they were carved into stone.

But I need to know where his head is at.

And maybe that’s the most dangerous part of all.