child lifted her face and Monica gasped at the resemblance to Ethan. Their mouths were the same shape and their chins shared matching dimples. If the girl’s stringy hair was washed and brushed, it would likely be the exact inky-black shade as Ethan’s, as well. Yet, it was the bottomless sapphire-blue eyes that were the dead giveaway.
They were definitely related.
That didn’t make sense, though. Monica could’ve sworn that she’d once overheard him bragging about being single and carefree. Plus, she was positive that he’d told Freckles, the owner of the café, that his mom died when he was a boy and his father had passed away a few years ago and he didn’t have any other family.
So then where had this child come from?
If Freckles hadn’t taken the morning off, the nosy older woman would’ve been asking all kinds of questions, like whether this was the girl’s first time in Sugar Falls and how long was she visiting. Unfortunately, Monica wasn’t quite as smooth when it came to starting conversations with the customers. Sure, she liked listening to people talk and picking up information here and there, but she didn’t have that ability of asking the right kinds of questions to illicit much more than a two-or three-word response. Unless it was about their favorite books.
But a million questions were floating through her head as she stared at the child, who was having trouble keeping her hands pushed through the sleeves of the man-size sweatshirt she’d obviously borrowed from Ethan.
There was still snow outside this time of year. Where was the girl’s jacket?
Monica turned over Ethan’s mug and poured him a steaming cup of coffee, but he avoided eye contact so she couldn’t read any clues on his normally friendly face. Turning to the girl, she said, “It’s pretty cold this morning. How about some hot chocolate?”
The girl’s eyes grew wide, and for an instant, an almost...craving expression flashed across her face, as though she’d never wanted anything more. Yet, her only reply was to study Ethan with a guarded look.
“Do you like hot chocolate?” Ethan asked her, and the girl nodded slowly. “Then hot chocolate it is.” He turned to Monica. “This is Trina. We’re still...uh...getting to know each other.”
A chill spread through Monica, making her skin prickle with unease. Stumbling backward, she retreated to the prep station behind the counter. She fumbled with the bottle of chocolate sauce several times as she thought about Ethan’s odd response. How did he not know the girl before now? They were clearly related.
Monica caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Trina dart into the hallway leading toward the restrooms. A hissing sound, followed by a blast of steam, drew her attention back to the complex frothing machine her boss had installed a few weeks ago and she barely got the thing shut off in time to prevent the hot milk from splattering everywhere. Monica cupped the warm mug in her trembling hands as she quickly walked to the table where Ethan was now sitting alone.
She needed to hurry if she wanted to talk to him before Trina returned from the restroom. Out of all the questions she wanted answered, the first one that came tumbling out of her mouth was, “Is she yours?”
Monica winced at her own words, her whisper-soft tone not making the personal question sound any less rude.
But Ethan either hadn’t been bothered or he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the impolite tone. He shrugged his shoulders, the expression on his face almost trancelike. “That’s what her mother said when she left her on my front porch this morning.”
“What do you mean, her mother left her on your front porch?” Monica had to brace her hand on the cowhide printed backrest of the booth. She was no longer whispering, drawing the curious stares from the other side of the restaurant.
“She knocked on my door this morning. I didn’t even recognize her.”
“Trina?” Disgust rose in Monica’s throat. How had the man not recognized his own daughter?
“No. Her mom. I guess we dated in high school and...” Ethan gave another shrug and it was all she could do not to grab two fistfuls of his plaid work shirt and shake the rounded muscles of his shoulders.
“You guess?” Monica swallowed a lump of annoyance. She wasn’t only ticked off with his answer, she was angry with herself. Disappointed at how easily she’d been blinded by her building attraction to a man who didn’t seem to know anything about his own daughter—including her existence. “So where is her mother now?”
“Her mother?” His brows formed a V and Monica rolled her eyes in frustration. She could handle Ethan easily enough when he was being a charming flirt, or even when he professed to be interested in her tongue-in-cheek book recommendations. However, if he was hoping this whole confused pretense would draw her sympathy, he was sorely mistaken.
“Yes. The person you dated back in high school? The mother of your child?”
“Right. Chantal drove off. She said she wasn’t any good at being a mom and threw Trina’s bag of clothes at me, telling me it was my turn to step up.”
There was nothing more reprehensible than a man who didn’t take care of his responsibilities. No amount of sex appeal or charm could make up for a lack of character. Her own father had been the same way and Monica shuddered at how close she’d come to falling under Ethan’s spell.
At how close she’d come to repeating her own mother’s same mistakes.
Monica’s growing revulsion was soon replaced with pity as Trina returned from the bathroom, her chin low and her face averted from the curious stares from the other customers as she carried a balled-up blue sweatshirt under one arm. Monica took in his daughter’s lanky unwashed hair and the oversize T-shirt advertising Mesquite Muffler Mart and Automotive Repair. Not exactly a fashion staple in most preteen girls’ closets.
The child’s voice was low and gravelly when she whispered, “Why do they all keep looking over here?”
Monica glanced toward her Wednesday morning regulars. Scooter and Jonesy, the two older cowboys, were mostly harmless although a little gossipy at times. She couldn’t say the same for the other three ladies, who apparently weren’t in any hurry to leave, despite the fact they’d already paid their checks and had their own local businesses to open.
Monica had grown up in Sugar Falls and, as much as she withered under the curious stares and wagging tongues, at least she was used to the presence of the small-town busybodies. It had to be twenty times worse for a child who was also an outsider.
“You know what?” Monica stood up straighter. “The cook is out on a smoke break. Why don’t you guys come on back to the kitchen and I’ll fix your breakfast myself? It’s much more private back there.”
She was still holding the mug of hot chocolate and tried to give Trina a reassuring smile before leading the way toward the swinging door. It took a few seconds before the girl followed, and Monica pulled out the single wooden stool near a stainless steel counter for Trina, not bothering with a thought for where Ethan would sit.
He could either plop himself on the ground or go on and slither out the front door for all she cared. Instead, she
