Tempted by the Wrong Twin (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 8)

It was clearly a game and he was including her, and Harper felt a rush of gratitude. “What does Ellie want?” she said, playing along.

“Ellie wants...a tall glass of pineapple juice.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Ellie said, “No!” and giggled.

Harper grinned. “You know, Nick, I’m not sure she wants pineapple juice.”

He held up an index finger, as though he’d remembered something. “Then I know what she does want.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harper made an exaggerated serious face. “What’s that?”

Nick threw his hands out as if making a big announcement. “Iced tea. With lots of ice cubes.”

“No, Daddy,” Ellie responded, giggling louder. “I want—”

But Nick cut her off. “No, no, don’t tell me. Because I know she really wants a nice, big, cold glass of tomato juice.”

“No!” Ellie practically squealed in between laughs.

Nick looked down at his daughter, confused, then over to Harper. “That’s strange, because I thought they were her favorite things.”

“Milk shake,” Ellie said, in between gasps of laughter.

“Oh, right. A milk shake. Now I remember. But,” he said conspiratorially to Harper, “she doesn’t like them thick. The runnier the better for our Ellie.”

Ellie fell into fits of giggles again. “No!”

“No? Not runny?” When his daughter shook her head in wide sweeps, he shrugged. “Okay, when the waitress comes, I’ll order a double-thick milk shake for you.”

“Triple!”

“Triple?” he said, running a hand over his chin. “I’m not sure you can handle a triple-thick milk shake.”

“I can, Daddy!” She grabbed at his hand, as if that would reinforce her point. “I can!”

He picked up a menu and scanned it as he spoke, his tone suggesting it was the end of the matter. “All right. A triple-thick watermelon-flavored milk shake.”

“Banana!”

Finally, Nick burst into laughter. “Okay,” he said, looping an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and pulling her into his side. “Banana. And a bowl of curly fries. When the sheriff of the town tells us to try his wife’s curly fries, we’d best take heed.”

“Yay! I love you, Daddy.” She reached her little arms up, pulled his head down and planted a kiss on his cheek. For a fleeting moment, there was an expression of pure, unadulterated happiness on Nick’s face.

If there had ever been any doubt that his daughter meant the world to him, that look proved it without a shadow of a doubt.

The waitress came and took their orders—Ellie ordered her own milk shake, just to be safe—and Harper glanced over the menu. Her morning sickness hadn’t been too bad, but she wasn’t going to be able to stomach a triple-thick milk shake and greasy fries, so she ordered some plain toast and tea.

“Feeling okay?” Nick asked when the waitress left.

She nodded. “I’m fine. I just couldn’t handle all that rich food.”

Nick clearly didn’t want to ask about morning sickness in front of his daughter. He gave Harper a reassuring smile and started chatting with Ellie again. Which was the exact strategy Harper wanted to take as well—leave the grown-up stuff until later, and have another go at bonding with Nick’s little girl.

But what did three-year-olds talk about? She couldn’t ask Ellie what her career plans were, or if she’d tried the new restaurant in town. And all she knew about the little girl was that she loved her dad, swings and triple-thick milk shakes, none of which provided a new topic of conversation.

She glanced over at Nick’s daughter, looking for clues. She wore a bright red dress with white polka dots. Perhaps she’d chosen it this morning and especially liked the colors or pattern? It was worth a try.

When there was a break in conversation on the other side of the table, Harper said, “Ellie, that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing.”