Page 24 of Protect and Serve

She smacked each one of them on the shoulder in turn. They hardly flinched. “You be nice to this one,” she hissed. “I like him.”

“How much do you like him?” Cody asked, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s none of your business how much I like him.” It was no one’s business. Hell, she didn’t even want to explore her feelings too closely. Not yet. This thing had just started and she already felt over her head…but in a good way. “Just leave us alone.”

She spun around and marched toward the stairs, seeking the solitude of her room. Sometimes having brothers was such a pain.

Behind her, they continued talking, making sure it was loud enough for her to hear as she stomped up the steps.

“I think she likes him,” Cade said.

“Yeah. Looks like Claire has a boyfriend.”

“Finally.”

“Right?”

“Maybe it’s for the best. If they’re dating, she may not get so many tickets.”

“You know, I didn’t think of that. It might not be so bad having a cop in the family.”

And on.

And on.

It didn’t stop until she reached her room and slammed the door.

And even then, she could hear them laughing.

Chapter Eight

He picked her up at six on the dot, as though he’d been waiting there on the porch for the clock to tick down. It pleased her, because she didn’t much care for men who were always late, like her brothers.

Oh, they were on time to see her off, standing there in the foyer, nonchalantly perusing their cuticles. Lisa was there too, but from what Claire could tell, she was only there so she could laugh at Cade.

When the doorbell rang, four heads snapped up.

Claire leaped for the door and faced her brothers, wielding her purse like a whip. “Back. Back, I say!”

“Aww,” Cade muttered. “You’re no fun.”

Claire opened the door, but only a crack, and peered out.

Her breath caught in her throat. Charlie was dressed in a suit. Nothing fancy, nothing from Paris or Milan, but a nice suit with a tie and everything, and he looked delicious standing there with both hands behind his back. He cocked his head and smiled at her.

“You’re going to need to open the door wider.”

“What?”

“I mean, I love your curves and all, but you won’t fit through that.”

Oh. The crack.

“I can’t. They’re here,” she whispered.

“Who?”

“All of them. Hovering.”