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

say goodbye to Daisy and Cormac.
    They snapped and zipped their coats and Cormac wrapped Daisy’s scarf around her neck before putting her mittens on her hands.
    Whitney’s lips twitched. He was such a doting dad.
    He caught her amused smile and warned, “Don’t say it.”
    “Say what?”
    “That you’re surprised I don’t tape her in bubble wrap.”
    Whitney grinned. “Who says that?”
    “Oh, just about all of my brothers.”
    She did laugh now. “I think it’s sweet. But Cormac, little girls can be just as tough as boys. She’s a person, and not made of glass.”
    “So you say,” he said, sounding amused, too.
    Rocco’s was just opening for dinner when they arrived. It was early, not quite five thirty, and they had the restaurant to themselves.
    “Daisy loves this place,” he said, helping her with her coat.
    “It’s like Italy,” Daisy said with the extreme confidence of a four-year-old.
    “I’ve never been to Italy,” Whitney answered, “so it’s a good thing we came here.”
    Tuscan landscapes covered the faux plaster walls, with trompe l’oeil fountains and statues painted in corner niches. The ceiling featured a trellis with vines and clusters of oversized burgundy red grapes. Red-and-white-checked cloths covered each of the tables, topped by the obligatory red candle burning brightly in an empty Chianti bottle.
    The interior was a tad cliché, but at the same time, it exuded warmth and charm. Whitney immediately understood the appeal to a little girl. It appealed to her, too.
    Peeling her coat off, she hung it on the back of her wooden chair and sat down. She hadn’t thought she was hungry but suddenly she craved bruschetta, or pasta, or whatever that incredible buttery-garlic smell was coming from the kitchen.
    “This is fun,” she said as Cormac pushed Daisy’s chair in and then took a seat, too.
    “Haven’t been here in a while,” Cormac said. “This was a family favorite. Rocco’s has been here forever. My grandfather Sheenan used to bring Dad here as a boy, and then he and Mom would bring us.”
    Daisy tipped her head back. “I like the grapes.”
    Whitney looked up. “They do look good, don’t they?”
    “They’re not real, though,” she added sorrowfully. I tried to eat them when I was a baby. But they’re just plastic.”
    “But now you know,” Cormac said. He glanced at Whitney. “Everything here is good. Everything’s homemade. All the pasta is made fresh daily.”
    “Any recommendations?” she asked, feeling that funny little flutter in her middle as his eyes met hers.
    He smiled lazily, eyes glinting, broad shoulders shifting. “Depends what you like.”
    The flutter in her middle became a wild thing, setting her pulse racing, making her heart pound. “You know me, I’m easy.”
    His brows lifted. “Good. Then you won’t be disappointed, no matter what you order.”
    *
    They walked back to the Graff with Daisy between them, with Cormac and Whitney each holding one of her hands. Daisy wanted them to swing her and they’d count, 1, 2, 3 and then lift her off the ground. Each time she’d go a little higher, be carried a little farther and she’d squeal with laughter.
    They were lifting her and swinging her as they crossed Front Street when suddenly a truck came flying down the street and squealed around the corner, nearly taking them out.
    In one swift motion Cormac dragged Daisy up into his arms, and yanked Whitney violently backwards, sending them crashing down on the curb. Cormac took the brunt of the fall. Whitney yelped as her elbow and knee hit the ground but at least they were safe.
    Cormac shouted something at the truck as it gunned down the street, but the truck was long gone, either oblivious or just uninterested in how close it’d come to running them all over.
    *
    “You okay?” Cormac asked, standing and extending a hand to Whitney.
    She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.
    “Yes.” She rubbed her elbow as she got to her feet.