I wasn’t sure about that. Undercover work wasn’t what they showed in movies. We didn’t routinely send in untrained civilians wearing a wire like in those over-the-top dramas because people were shitty actors. A target would take one look at the unavoidable flop sweat and panic most were incapable of hiding, and the whole thing would be blown.
But Rhys seemed pretty damn confident as he climbed from the car without hesitation.
I did the same, but with enough hesitation for both of us.
Keeping my eyes open as we walked, I took in our surroundings, but also him. Watching for any twitch. Any scowl.
A clenched fist or flared nostrils.
There was nothing until he opened the door to the busy bakery, and a genuine, deeply dimpled smile curved his mouth. “Subtle.”
I followed his line of vision to the three women who stood behind the counter, their relaxed poses forced as they pretended to be locked in conversation.
It would’ve been more effective if they hadn’t been staring at us.
Not glancing. Not peeking.
Staring.
So much for flying under the radar.
My steps halted as I contemplated whether it was better to risk them blowing my cover or to draw attention to us by fleeing. Fleeing seemed like the better option.
Rhys put his hand on my lower back as he leaned down to whisper, “We’re good. It would’ve been more unusual if theydidn’tdo this.”
Yikes.
I had my own apartment. Even if I didn’t live an hour away from most of my family, I never worried about surprise stop-ins. We were close, but not like that. Beyond that, I lived, breathed, and sweated work. My social life was a bit lacking because of that, but I didn’t mind. I loved what I did. And I loved that once I was off the clock, I answered to no one.
Having people in my business was unfamiliar.
Of course, Rhys probably felt the same with me being in his business—both literallyandfiguratively.
I pulled my focus from him to look back at the counter. That time, the women weren’t even trying to be discreet as they inspected our close positioning.
Piper was the first to speak, her smile warm and open. “Hey, Lo.”
Lo. Instant. Easy. No stammering, correcting, or awkwardness.
Maybe I was wrong about everyone being shitty actors.
“Am I chopped liver with you, too?” Rhys grumbled as we closed the distance to the counter.
She lifted an unapologetic shoulder. “You’re old news. But you saidtoo. Who else are you chopped liver to?”
“Everyone.”
“Oh yeah. Woe is you. So ignored and discarded,” She contradicted her lack of sympathy by handing him a chocolate chip cookie that looked wildly decadent.
“If I say I’m chopped liver, do I get one of those?” I asked, and the hopeful tone in my voice wasn’t forced for the joke. Ireallywanted one of those cookies.
She grinned.
I remembered her being gorgeous, but she was stunning. Her black hair was pulled up in a messy bun that looked effortless yet still cute. Her curves were hugged by jeans and a fitted top, and the cherry print apron around her waist somehow looked cool instead of matronly.
Certainly not like a geriatric stripper-gram.
But a big part of her prettiness was because Rhys had been correct.