Page 61 of Warrant

Motioning toward the seat on the other side of my desk, I watched in amusement as she went and climbed up. “Whereisyour mama?”

“Home. Having baby.”

Did I feel like crap questioning a child? Yes. Was I desperate? Also yes. “Where’s home?”

She just blinked at me, like she knew exactly what I was up to.

“Where we live.”

“Okay,” I said, raising my hands in defeat. Her smile said she could play this game all day, and that I would break before she would. She was probably right, and I wasn’t about to grill her.

“I’m hungry.”

I bet you are.Emptying your stomach across the office could work up an appetite. “Did you tell Owen?”

She crinkled her nose. “He gave me sandwich.”

“What was wrong with it?” I asked, amused.

“It only has cheese.”

“Nothing else?” I asked, wrinkling my own nose.

She shrugged. “Was gross. I threw away.”

“Totally understandable. How about we go get some decent sandwiches?”

She nodded and hopped off the chair as I stood. She again took my hand. Once again my heart melted, and my ovaries screamed for Warrant.

Dammit.

“Aunt Ainsy?”

How did something as simple as a sweet voice saying aunt before my name, or what passed as my name for a little kid, turn my insides to mush? This kid was going to go home with pounds of candy and fireworks if that was what she wanted. The good kind too, not cheap sparklers, but the kind that started barns on fire.

Having children wasn’t something I’d ever really thought about. But now I was. Which of course made my mind stray to Warrant, which just pissed me off because once again he’d popped into my life—dropped off this delightful surprise—then went no contact again. Jerk.

I was really going to have to figure myself out before he showed up again. Because who knew what he’d be towing along with him next time?

We walked down the street to a corner deli and ordered some sandwiches. I sat with Aella on the bench outside and we ate our lunch, watching as people walked by.

I looked down and smiled as I saw Aella had a smudge of mustard on her face—what kid liked mustard—as she munched happily. Handing her a napkin, I tried to fight the feeling that was nudging at me. Like this was something I could have if I wanted to. That was a dangerous thought. A dangerous path. Andnotsomething I needed right now, despite how cute this kid was.

Aella frowned at the napkin. “Mama licks her thumb then my face.”

My lip curled up. “Well,I’mnot doing that.”

“Why not? She just licks it off.”

Gross.

“I hate mustard. Wipe your face yourself. You’re a big girl.”

She rolled her eyes, but snatched the napkin from me and swiped at her face. She only got about half of it off, but that wasgood enough for me. She eyed the plastic bag next to me. “What are those for?”

“My deputies.”

“Your deputies?”