Page 48 of Open Season

She knew her speech patterns were a little archaic; that’s what happened when you lived with your mother and aunt, who were darlings but were definitely old-fashioned. She tried not to use their more dated expressions, but that was what she’d heard most of her life, so that was what came out of her mouth more often than not. She did not, however, appreciate his pointing that out. “It’s the twenty-first, smart ass!”

Silence.

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I never say things like that.”

“Well, yes, you do,” he replied. His voice sounded strained. “I heard you. You just don’t say them very often.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I have no excuse.”

“Not even that I made you mad as hell?”

“You did, but I’m still responsible for my own actions.”

“God,” he said, looking up at the heavens, “why can’t all the bad guys be like her?”

God didn’t answer, and Jack shrugged. “It was worth a try. C’mon, get back in your car before I kiss you again.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t much of a threat. Daisy caught herself hesitating, then resolutely reached for the door handle, to find his hand there before hers. She seated herself, arranged her red skirt just so, buckled her seat belt, then remembered why they had stopped in the first place and narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tailgate me again.”

He leaned forward, his eyes heavy-lidded and his mouth slightly swollen, reminding her what they’d been doing just a few minutes before. “I won’t. At least, not in a car.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then raced into double time. She licked her lips, trying not to form that image in her mind. It formed anyway. Her nipples tightened and peaked.

“Go!” he said harshly, slamming the door and stepping back, and she went. After a moment his car pulled onto the road behind hers.

He stayed a very safe distance behind her, all the way back to Hillsboro.

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