Silver Fox (Silver Shifters 2)

EIGHT

DORIS

It took her all night to fall asleep. Even two unaccustomed glasses of wine and constant reminders to herself that she had to be on the road early in the morning couldn’t chase away thoughts of Joey’s lovely eyes, and his rich, soothing voice. Doris finally drifted off to sleep around four a.m., and dreamed of Joey until her phone rang at six.

It was her mother, of course, with last-minute instructions for the trip. She had two messages when she finally got her mother off the phone, one from her niece Nicola fretting about whether to bring her new boyfriend, the other from her sister fretting about Nicola’s new boyfriend.

By the time Doris made it into the bathroom for her morning shower, nursing a miserable headache, she was already sick of her family, and she hadn’t even seen any of them yet!

She’d just turned on the hot water when her phone rang again—her general ringtone, rather than any of the distinctive ones for family or friends.

The fierce leap of anticipation in her heart surprised her. Joey? “Hello?”

“Congratulations, Ms. Liverwort! You’ve been specially selected to win a free gift—”

Doris jabbed the OFF button so hard her finger throbbed. As she blocked the number, she muttered, “Serves me right.”

Of course it wouldn’t be Joey. She hadn’t given him her number. He could get it from Bird or Mikhail, but why would he after the way she’d shut him down? Anyway, she sensed he was too much of a gentleman to ask for her number without her permission . . .

As she got into her car, she considered that. It was true. In all their interactions, he’d never been pushy or assumed anything or crossed the line she’d drawn around herself.

Then it hit her: it wasn’t he she was afraid of. It was herself.

And that was even worse.

Nearly five hours of exhausting driving later, she felt even worse. She longed for a cup of tea. But the thought of tea brought back the thought of Joey.

Everything brought back Joey. Even during the light of day, she still felt as if the sun had dimmed. If only she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much the night before! But that was the trouble—such a powerful reaction meant an equally powerful pain when the inevitable crash came.

And then there was the prospect of her family discovering she was dating. Whenever she considered giving in, she only had to imagine how her mother would have a wedding planned in five seconds flat, the gown designed, and start discussing the sit-down dinner for two hundred with Sylvia, as though Doris wasn’t even there. How appalled Joey would be when they met him, and double-teamed with the well-meant Thousand Questions—unless of course he took one look at Sylvia and forgot who Doris was, and who could blame him? But by far the worst would be how much it would hurt when it all fell apart.

No. Her spinster box might be boring, but it was safe.

At last she arrived at what her family called “the grandpa house.” No one would ever call it beautiful—it looked like a gigantic hand had jumbled together two or three houses from very different eras—but her family loved it anyway. To be honest, she did too.

She started dragging her stuff up the brick walkway, watching her breath form vapor. It was cold! Definitely a cup of—

A flash of something bright green was her only warning before a small, solid shape collided with her legs, nearly knocking her over. A second, larger shape in bright green skidded to a halt. She righted herself, staring down at two pairs of big brown eyes, belonging to a couple of kids of seven and three. Both were enveloped in neon green parkas and knitted hats with stripes, with superhero costumes peeking out underneath.

Doris had never seen either child before in her life. They were obviously siblings, though the elder’s gaze was wary, the younger’s round and curious.

“Careful,” she said, aware a second later that she probably sounded like one of those stuffy adults who only spoke to kids to yell at them.

The elder kid, who was Batman under his parka, said, “Sorry. I was chasing Pink. We didn’t see you.”

&nbs

p; The smaller one, who was Wonder Woman, announced, “I Pink.”

There was nothing pink about the child, from her dark eyes and brown skin to her parka of green over blue jeans. “I’m Doris.”

Pink responded by ducking past Doris and running off, short legs twinkling.

The elder child chased after her without a word, and they vanished around the corner of the house. A man’s voice rose, “Gotcha! Come on inside, kids—there’s hot chocolate!”

Doris heard the swift crunch of footsteps from the other direction. A lavender knit hat and matching scarf appeared, arms and legs encased in a wool coat working. The hat lifted. Doris looked into her niece Nicola’s face, ruddy from running.

“Hi, Aunt Doris. Did you see Pink and Lon?”