Page 33 of Open Season

Chief Russo was out of the car before Daisy could tell him he didn’t have to stay. When he opened the car door for her, she sat where she was, staring up at him with huge eyes. “Well, come on,” he said impatiently. “The ice cream’s melting.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered.

“Why?” he whispered back, but his eyes were gleaming.

“They think you’re . . . that we’re . . .”

“Courting?” he helpfully supplied as he literally tugged her out of the car and began pushing her up the sidewalk.

“Don’t joke about it! You know what gossip’s like in a small town. Besides, I don’t like misleading my family.”

“Then tell them the truth, that I wanted to warn you about the dangers of date-rape drugs.”

“And give my mother a heart attack?” Daisy said fiercely. “Don’t you dare!”

“Then tell them we’re just friends.”

“Like they’d believe that.”

“Why’s it so unbelievable?”

“It just is.” By that time they had reached the front door, and he opened it for her, ushering her inside. There was a small foyer, with the big living room immediately opening off to the left. The tangle of voices died away as they came inside, and ice-cream bowls were set down with a clatter; Daisy felt as if a hundred people were staring at her, though of course it was only her mother and Aunt Jo, Beth and Nathan, and her two nephews, William and Wyatt. She was so seldom the focus of all eyes that even a little attention felt like a lot.

“Um . . . this is Chief Russo.”

“Jack,” he said, crossing to shake hands first with her mother, then Aunt Jo, as Daisy introduced them. Nathan rose to his feet when it was his turn, his hand extended, but his eyes narrowed in that expression men wore when they felt the need to protect their families. Why he should feel protective of her, Daisy had no idea. Chief Russo must have been used to testosterone-driven displays, though, because he didn’t acknowledge it by so much as the flicker of an eyelid.

“Let me get you some ice cream,” Evelyn said. “It’s just vanilla, but I can put some walnuts and fudge sauce on it if you like.”

“Vanilla’s my favorite,” the chief said so sincerely that Daisy would have believed him even if she had known differently. He didn’t seem like a vanilla type of person, but she wasn’t about to argue. The faster he ate his ice cream and left, the better it suited her.

Beth wasn’t paying any attention to the chief; she was staring at Daisy, her eyes wide and a little dazed. “You’re blond,” she said weakly. “Mama said you’d lightened your hair, but. . . but you’re blond.”

“You’re pretty,” ten-year-old Wyatt said, almost accusingly. He was at the age when he didn’t like girls, and finding his favorite aunt turning into one was upsetting.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’ll try to do better.”

“I like it,” eleven-year-old William said, giving her the shy smile that would slay female hearts in another few years.

“And you’re wearing jeans!” Beth almost wailed. She herself was wearing very chic walking shorts with a matching top, but the Daisy she knew had seldom worn slacks and hadn’t even owned a pair of jeans.

“I went shopping,” Daisy said uncomfortably as everyone, including the chief, looked her up and down. “And I got my ears pierced.” She indicated the small hoops, hoping to draw their attention upward.

“I think you look great,” Nathan said, smiling at her. She loved her brother-in-law, but she wished that he were a little more sensitive to Beth’s mood right now, because Beth was more than a little shocked by her sister’s transformation.

Beth was not, however, a selfish person. She managed a smile, then got to her feet and hugged Daisy. “You look great,” she said as Evelyn returned to the living room with two bowls rounded high with creamy white ice cream.

“Yes, she does,” Evelyn said, smiling at both her daughters and handing the bowls to Daisy and the chief.

“So,” Aunt Jo said brightly, “how long have you two been seeing each other?”

“We’re not—” Daisy began, only to be overridden by a much deeper voice.

“A week or so,” said the chief.

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