What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,67

didn’t get much time for introductions,” Bull said. “JJ is Gabe’s one and only patrol officer until he hires an additional temporary LEO for the tourist season. JJ’s been away for the last couple of weeks at a law enforcement class in Sitka.”

JJ was a police officer. The only other police officer. The warning in Kit’s letter played in Frankie’s head: One of the Rescue police is a member of the Patriot Zealots.

Bull set his hand on her shoulder in concern. Both the chief and his officer were watching her, their cop instincts obviously on alert.

I’m an idiot. “Sorry, I was trying to seem innocent in hopes you guys hadn’t noticed my lousy driving.”

Gabe blinked and glanced at JJ. “No, can’t say we have. Did we miss an accident?”

Whew, he bought it. Frankie shook her head. “No, I’ve escaped that fate. So far.”

“New York drivers are almost as aggressive as Bostonians but lack any experience to go with it.” Audrey grinned at Frankie. “Do you even own a car?”

“No way. The subway and taxis, even the buses, are far less stressful.”

Such appalled stares. She started laughing, partly in relief that she hadn’t gotten more questions.

JJ seemed awfully nice and not like some wide-eyed fanatic. Could Kit be wrong? Frankie would have to be careful about what she said.

“Here, chiquita.” Caz handed her a glass of wine.

She took a sip. It was a traditional chianti, rich and fruity with an edge of tannin. “Perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His voice softened. “The family is a bit overwhelming, sí?”

Oh, dear, she’d let her distress show. Bull was also watching her with concern.

Down, emotions, down. This was supposed to be a fun dinner. She managed a smile. “You are all actually making me a bit homesick for my Nonna’s house in Italy. Only she was a very traditional Italian, and her gatherings were even bigger. I have cousins out to the nth degree and aunts and uncles…and there were a lot of raised voices.”

“The guys don’t shout much.” Audrey motioned with her glass toward the door. “They just go outside and pound on each other.”

“Seriously?” She glanced at Bull.

His dimple appeared. “Flattening someone is more effective than yelling.”

Madonna.

Urged by a hungry Regan, they were soon seated around the big table. Even though Frankie knew she was an excellent cook, she still worried. Even the best chefs could mess up—and somehow, today, it mattered more than normal.

This was Bull’s family.

Moving the food around on her plate, she pretended to eat as she watched.

Bull sampled each dish slowly, making a sound that was almost a purr, before digging in with open enjoyment.

Caz ate with a smile, urging his daughter and JJ to try this and that.

Regan went back for seconds on the lasagna before finishing anything else on her plate.

Gabe stole an extra bite of lasagna off Audrey’s plate with a wicked smile, then fed her a bite from his herbed trout, whereupon she dished herself a helping of the fish.

Hawk showed no expression and made no appreciative—or disgusted—sounds. Having been the least attractive daughter, Frankie wondered what it’d been like to grow up with three “brothers” who were each man candy in different ways.

Gabe was roughly handsome with a commanding presence. If he gave an order, probably every person in town would obey. Caz was as gorgeous as any Latino movie star she’d ever seen—with an equally deadly charm.

Bull was…more. Totally hot in an over-the-top tough guy sense. Huge and powerful. Deep voiced. Maybe he didn’t have Caz’s charm, but he was a magnetic extrovert with an easy-going personality. He enjoyed people—and they liked him back.

Hawk was scarred, tattooed, taciturn. How could the guy compete with his brothers? After watching her male cousins, Frankie had learned brothers could be incredibly competitive. Then again, she’d learned appearances were deceiving. His brothers loved and respected him—that was very clear.

He must have felt her gaze. Catching her eye, Hawk glanced down at his plate—which was now empty—and gave her a nod. Approval.

When she smiled back, his expression changed to one of masculine interest.

Oops. How awkward was this? She averted her gaze.

“Frankie, everything is amazing,” JJ said. “And now I have to ask, if you can cook like this, what are you doing in this little place—Rescue?”

“Tesoro, no.” Caz shook his head at his woman.

“Why are you frowning at her?” Frankie realized the others held the same disapproving expressions.

“In Alaska, it’s frowned on to ask about a person’s past. In some ways, our state is like the old