A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) by Jane Porter Page A

so lovely and alive and he glanced down at Daisy who was staring at Whitney with wide blue eyes.
    He felt a little of the same awe. He’d been attracted to Whitney from the first moment he spotted her in that Denver bar all those years ago. He had no idea she worked for him. They never discussed work that first evening. They didn’t even discuss Montana. He didn’t even know what they talked about, only that the conversation had been easy and engaging and he knew when the evening ended, he was going to see her again.
    That he had to see her again.
    And seeing her now, entering the theater glowing with beauty and intelligence and life, he knew he had to see her again.
    And again.
    “Daisy, remember how you ask about your godmother Whitney? Well, this is Whitney. And she’s come to Marietta to work and see you and do special things with you each weekend.”
    The little girl’s eyes were still saucer wide. She looked from Whitney to him and back.
    Whitney didn’t want to crowd the little girl and crouched on the burgundy and gold theater carpet. “Hi,” she said. “Remember me?”
    Daisy took a long moment to answer. “Not really.”
    “That’s okay. Because I remember you. And it’s so good to see you.”
    Daisy bit her lip. “Dad says you knew me when I was a baby.”
    “I did. I was there with your mom when you were born. Your dad—your other dad,” she corrected quickly, “he was overseas and so I got to hold you after your mom held you. You were this big,” she said, her hands making a space the size of a small loaf of bread. “Itty bitty but so beautiful.”
    “And you loved me?” Daisy asked hopefully.
    “I loved you. And so did your mommy. With all her heart.”
    “My mommy is in heaven,” Daisy said matter of factly.
    “Yes, she is. With your daddy, Daryl.” Whitney’s eyes suddenly burned and her throat threatened to close. “I was very good friends with them. They loved you so much and were so proud of you. They were always showing pictures and sending little videos of you doing something funny.”
    Daisy’s face scrunched up. “Are you going to cry?”
    “No.” Whitney swallowed hard, and smiled. “But I do miss your mom. She was my best friend. We became best friends when we were five years old.”
    Daisy held up her fingers. “I’m four.”
    “You just had a birthday in September.”
    “And you sent me Periwinkle’s costume.”
    “Yes!”
    “Can I give you a hug?”
    “ Yes .”
    Whitney crouched on the carpet and Daisy moved into her arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
    “Thank you for my presents,” Daisy whispered.
    “You are most welcome,” Whitney whispered back.
    When the hug ended, Whitney rose, but Daisy slipped her hand into hers, her small warm fingers wrapping around Whitney’s. Whitney gave Daisy’s hand a little squeeze. Daisy squeezed back and Whitney felt a rush of love as well as a wash of gratitude. She was grateful that the bond was still there, and perhaps it was slight and fragile, but it was something. It was enough. It’d give them a chance to build a new relationship, one that would hopefully weather time and life’s storms.
    As Cormac carried the tray of popcorn and drinks towards the theater, he glanced at Whitney and their gazes locked and held. His eyes were warm, and the corner of his mouth curled. There was so much intensity in his eyes that her insides did another crazy rollercoaster loop-de-loop, but this surge and flip had nothing to do with Daisy and everything to do with Cormac’s smile.
    Daisy sat between them at the movie, and then afterwards wanted to hold each of their hands as they walked to the Italian restaurant Rocco’s on Church Street for dinner. Cormac said it was a couple blocks away, on the opposite side of Main Street as if you were heading to Bramble.
    Whitney didn’t mind, thinking the walk would be good after the bucket of popcorn. She wasn’t yet hungry for dinner but also wasn’t ready to