Page 25 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Knox

Jace leans against the stainless steel counter, laughing like he still can’t quite believe my life. Despite being here for... well, what feels like forever .

“You’re a billionaire,” he says, for the fourth time in five minutes. “You could be on a yacht. In Italy. With a drink in one hand and a tanned stranger feeding you grapes in the other.”

“I don’t like grapes,” I mutter, cracking an egg into the bowl.

He throws his hands in the air. “That’s your takeaway?”

“I also hate yachts.”

“You’re insane.”

I glance up long enough to give him a look. “Then stop wasting your breath.”

The whisk hits the side of the bowl with a steady rhythm, and the kitchen hums with the comforting noise of prep: pans heating, knives working, soft conversation floating in from the front.

Normally, Josie would be here by now, singing something ridiculous, reorganizing the spice rack for no reason, slipping me a taste of whatever new thing she’s testing.

But she’s not.

And that’s fine .

I told her to take time off. She’s been exhausted, run ragged, burning herself out working so hard for me. I don’t want her to get sick.

But I also don’t like it when she isn’t here.

The place feels off. Too quiet. Too still. Like the center of gravity is missing.

Jace watches me like he’s waiting for something to crack. “What is going on with you right now? You are not the party animal you used to be. I know you retired and everything, and I know you said you wanted to cook, but damn.”

I don’t answer.

He whistles low. “Can I not tempt you to spend one day off with me?”

“Josie isn’t here. I have to take over.”

“You can’t get someone else?” I shoot him a look, causing him to throw his hands in the air in surrender. “All right, whatever. Just trying to have some fun, is all.”

“Silver Peak is fun. You just have to go and find it.”

“I’d rather just hang out with my buddy, if that’s okay.”

Jace starts snapping pictures while I’m plating a tray of honey cornbread muffins like it’s a damn Vogue shoot. I ignore him at first. Maybe if I don’t react, he’ll get bored and go bother someone else.

“Give me a little smolder,” he says, angling his phone like he’s Spielberg.

“I will give you a restraining order.”

“Oof. That’s hot. Do it again.”

I don’t even look up. I’ve known Jace long enough to know he feeds off attention like a raccoon digging through trash at 2 a.m. Best not to engage.

“You could at least pretend to smile,” he adds, snapping another photo while I brush melted butter over the tops of the muffins.

“I’m not here to do mall glamour shots,” I mutter.

“That’s what makes it authentic. The grumpy jawline. The aggressive biceps. The deep emotional trauma, I’m sure you're repressing.” He lifts his phone again. “Ooh, give me ‘sexy wounded soldier with a whisk.’”

I flip him off without looking. He snaps that too.

“Excellent,” he says. “This one’s going on the grid.”

A few minutes pass. I’m chopping herbs and trying to pretend I’m alone in the woods when the door swings open and Eli’s voice cuts through the kitchen like a chainsaw wrapped in sunshine.

“Knox Knightly, you are putting Silver Peak on the map .”

“Huh?” I ask without turning around.

“You’re trending.”

Now I turn. “Trending what?”

He marches over and shoves his phone in my face. “This.”

On the screen: a video.

Me, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed, chopping veg like I’m auditioning for a gritty cooking drama. There’s literal slow motion. There’s steam rising dramatically behind me. There’s sensual jazz music. And there, in the corner, is the logo: Jude Knightly Media.

Eli cackles. “Jude edited Jace’s photos and clipped it like a damn cologne commercial. And it’s gone viral. Not just in the town, but all over. In moments.”

I groan. “You’re kidding me.”

She scrolls. “You’re officially trending under #HotMountainChef. There’s already merch.”

Jace claps a hand on my back. “I made the hashtag. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one asks to go viral,” Eli says, still swiping. “It just happens. Like love. Or food poisoning. Jude’s DM’s are flooded. Someone offered ten grand for a one-on-one pasta-making session with you. Fully clothed… probably.”

I put the knife down before I throw it at something.

“Are you people insane? I’m not some internet thirst trap. I’m not a mascot. I’m a guy who wants to run a damn restaurant in peace.”

Jace shrugs. “A very hot guy who wants to run a restaurant in peace, according to the online world.”

“Jace.”

“I’m just saying! You’re the full package. Smolder, muscle, mysterious past. If this were a Hallmark movie, you’d be the rugged love interest with a tragic backstory who teaches the big city girl how to love again with cinnamon rolls and emotional growth.”

“I hate Hallmark,” I growl.

“You are Hallmark,” Eli says brightly. “Except with better triceps.”

I push away from the counter and pace across the kitchen, scrubbing a hand down my face. “This isn’t what I came here for.”

“Oh, come on,” Jace says. “It’s not like you’re back on ESPN doing Gatorade commercials. It’s only a couple of reels. Some flirty captions. A little internet buzz.”

“That ‘little buzz’ is the start of exactly what I left behind,” I snap. “People watching. Judging. Expecting something from me. Again. That life ate me alive the first time, and I barely crawled out of it.”

Eli frowns. “But this is different. This isn’t the NFL. This isn’t paparazzi and press tours and post-game breakdowns.”

“Isn’t it?” I ask, turning on him. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m being packaged and sold all over again. Just with vegetables and better lighting.”

Silence stretches between us for a beat.

I shake my head. “I moved to Silver Peak to stop being that guy. The one who was always on . The one who couldn’t breathe without it being a headline. This was supposed to be mine. Quiet. Normal. Real life .”

Jace leans against the counter, suddenly less smirking. “Knox, you’re allowed to want that. But people are excited to see you. They love you, you know that.”

“I don’t want to be loved,” I say through gritted teeth. “I want to be left alone. I want to wake up, make bread, yell at my staff, and go to bed without someone dissecting how I hold a damn spatula.”

Eli sighs. “You really hate the spotlight that much?”

I nod. “It nearly broke me.”

For a second, Jace looks like he might actually say something serious. But then, because he can’t help himself, he points at the stove. “Well, on the bright side, your viral fame probably doubled your brunch reservations.”

I glare at him.

He grins. “Triple if you keep scowling like that. You have villain origin story cheekbones right now.”

I pick up a muffin and chuck it at his head.

He ducks, cackling. “Missed me, #HotMountainChef!”

“I will burn your phone.”

“Not before he gets Jude more footage,” Eli says. “He’s got a montage planned for next week: ‘Whisk Me Away… The Knox Knightly Experience.’”

Yep.

I’m about to lose my damn mind.