The plan was for me to start off there and then switch it up once we figured out the best way to play my sudden inclusion in Rhys’s life. I’d never been undercover before, so not having a more set plan added another layer of stress to the unknown. But even if it was carefully laid out to the last tiny detail, things could—and often did—change on a dime.
Especially when my protectee might be a suspect instead.
When I left my dad’s, I would pick up my loaner car before going to my home sweet temporary home.
Before then, though, I wanted to soak in a little family time because once I went under, I wouldn’t be able to visit them until I was done.
Not seeing my brothers?
No biggie. I was used to that.
But not seeing my nieces and nephews—including my furry one?
My heart broke.
“I bet someone else would love these cookies,” I said loud enough to trigger an immediate stampede.
Or at least the rush of running feet and a protective companion.
My fourteen-year-old nephew reached me first, his dark eyes lit with the glee of a bottomless pit promised sustenance.
“Who’re you?” I asked just as his twelve-year-old sister slid to a stop next to him.
Goose—who was a dog, not a waterfowl—waited to be sure they were both settled before sitting right between them.
My heart cracked a little more when I realized that was the end of the stampede.
I looked down to where my dad sat in his chair, and he gave a quick headshake.
Dammit.
I masked my disappointment as my gaze darted between the siblings. “Who are either of you?”
Logan put all his teenage dramatics into an exasperated eye roll. “Aunt Lo.”
“I’m sorry, who? Who is that?” I looked behind me before whipping back around with a confused expression. “Now I don’t know who you areorwho I am.”
“Don’t you know?” My brother Turner entered the room and looked at his kids—the human ones, the furry one belonged to someone else. “Teenagers are too cool to say auntie. I usually getbruh, so consider yourself lucky.”
“What’s wrong with auntie?” I asked, outraged at this turn of events.
“It makes me sound like a baby.” Logan gestured to himself. “I’m like a whole foot taller than you.”
He wasn’t. It was more like a third of a foot. But I still resented him pointing that out.
I scowled before looking at my niece Cora. “Who am I?”
“AuntieLo,” she said.
“And how tall am I?”
“Uh, very?” she guessed.
It was the right answer.
Reaching into the grocery bag, I grabbed a package of cookies and handed her the whole thing.
“Hey,” Logan objected.
