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He chauffeured Daisy to some of the scenic places around town and watched her make a few short videos, even holding the phone for one. The camera loved her and ate up her friendly smile and easygoing chatter. No wonder she was so popular.
After she got enough footage, they drove to the city park. Two of his nephews played on the same little league team and had games most Sundays. The game was progressing painfully slow. Eight-year-olds overthrowing, under-catching, and swinging at anything or nothing made the innings take forever.
Noah was talking with his brother and lost track of the game. A crack of the bat and an uproar from the crowd snapped his attention back to the action. His nephew, Simon, had his head down and his little legs churned as he made for first base.
A hit. An actual hit. The crowd jumped to its feet, and cheering louder than anyone else was Daisy.
“Run, Simon. Run. You got this,” she yelled.
At the sound of her voice, Noah looked over and was caught off guard. She held a baby—one of his nieces—on her hip with one arm, and pumped the other in the air to cheer for his nephew. The moves were so natural, you’d think this was how she spent every Sunday afternoon.
She cheered as if it was game seven of the World Series, and she had her life savings riding on the outcome, which made him laugh.
As Simon approached first base, the shortstop overthrew the ball. When the first baseman missed the catch, Simon’s coach sent him running for second. A calamity of error after error ended in Simon sliding into home plate for a home run hit.
“Hey,” Noah said to his brother, Owen. “You got a future MLB player in the making.”
Owen puffed up his chest. “He gets that from me.”
When Noah glanced back at Daisy, his heart did a wonky little giddy-up. Backlit by the sun, hair flowing in the breeze, her face flushed from all the yelling, she looked like an angel. A leggy, sassy, dangerous angel.
His brother caught him staring. “She seems nice,” he said.
“Shut up,” Noah said, and Owen laughed.
Simon’s home run was the only exciting part of the game, and after two and a half hours sitting on hard bleachers, Noah was ready for a cold beer and a soft seat. They all packed up and headed in separate cars to Noah’s parents’ place on the outskirts of town.
It had been several months since Noah had been home. He’d catch flack for that but was willing to take his licks. It wasn’t his family’s fault they were perfect and delightful, and every time he hung out with them, he ended up in a sour mood. Visits would start out fine, but guilt over enjoying himself and running around with his nieces and nephews would eventually take over. Why should he be able to run when Tucker couldn’t?
He and Daisy arrived at his folks’ house to a driveway full of SUVs and minivans. Of course Marcy had called in the cavalry.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked. “This brood can be downright overwhelming.”
“Hah. You’ve never actually met my family, but trust me. I can handle anything.”
“Suit yourself. I have six siblings, each of whom has a spouse and a few kids. Don’t bother trying to learn everyone’s names. It’s impossible, and new ones just keep coming.”
A very pregnant woman rushed out to greet them. “See,” he said, and Daisy laughed.
Before they got out of the car, Noah leaned over to Daisy. “Whatever you do, don’t tell my mom about the bullet wound.”
He should have known Daisy would fit right in. She jumped out of the truck and made herself at home, introducing herself to everyone before being whisked away by the kids to play kickball.
Begrudgingly, he had to admit she wasn’t the snooty princess he’d assumed she’d be. Before falling asleep in the truck, he’d stolen a few glances at her while she drove. Window down, hair blowing, scream-singing “Country Roads,” she seemed happy as could be. Didn’t care that they drove a rust-covered, older-than-dirt clunker. No complaints about the lackluster AC. She’d taken it all in stride. Nothing seemed to bother her. He envied that.
After his mother scolded him for not telling her he was coming to town, she put him to work in the kitchen, where two of his sisters were already hard at work. His dad, brothers, and brothers-in-law sat on the porch, watching kids and drinking beer. They’d corralled the little ones on blankets or in playpens, and the bigger ones played a game of kickball. No doubt Daisy brought pizazz to that scenario.
“Why can’t I go drink beer with the men?” Noah asked.
“Shelling peas is your penance for not calling me sooner,” his mother said. Then she smiled and took the bowl from him. “Go say hi to your dad. Beer’s in a cooler outside.”
Noah didn’t have to be excused twice. He jumped up and hustled to the porch, grabbing a beer before copping an empty rocker.
“Bro, I thought you swore off hot women after Sarah burned you,” Kevin, one of his brothers-in-law said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle in Daisy’s direction.
“I did. We’re not dating. Her dad hired me to protect her for a week or so.”
“From what? Men throwing themselves at her?”
