STILL IRRITATED AFTER A BAD first date on Sunday afternoon, FBI Agent Ray Anderson tightened his tie and glowered into the bathroom mirror. He had driven over an hour to meet for brunch. She had tried to get information on BennTech’s criminal activities, which, of course, he wouldn’t give out. Then, she received a work text and had to leave.

Right, because research scientists are on call. What’s her problem with me? I’m not Joe Handsome, but who is? I’ve had my share of dates, only some bad. Why did this one irk me so much?

He released those negative thoughts like his self-help audiobooks suggested and sighed at the sounds of arguing in the kitchen. He could usually block it out while listening through his headphones.

He took out his gun from the lockbox in the top dresser drawer. As he added it to his hip, he listened to doors slamming from the hallway. Atop his dresser, the purple clay octopus the size of his fist slid to the edge. His niece, Kami, had made it for him when she and his sister, Julie, had moved in with him ten years ago. Kami was five at the time.

Ray had had Julie’s boyfriend arrested for attempted murder on the night Julie had decided to leave him. The bastard didn’t take it well and had almost choked her to death. Kami had nightmares since, that her father was trying to kill her, too. Ray helped them through it. The purple octopus paperweight was a thank-you gift from Kami, who’d made it in her first-grade art class. Ray liked its long thick arms bent in all directions, as if moving around. It was his prized possession and a reminder that his FBI job ultimately protected families.

Presently, Ray was used to playing referee between his sister and her now-teenage daughter. But he didn’t feel like doing it that day. He had dedicated his life to his sister and niece, putting his love life on hold to take care of them. Any woman he was remotely interested in, Julie hated. He wanted to share a relaxing conversation over a meal with someone who wasn’t a drama queen like the two women he currently lived with.

Ray took a deep breath and opened his bedroom door. He drifted into the kitchen. Dirty plates, cups, and pans cluttered the countertops. Women are slobs. He stuck a bagel into the toaster and put the dishes into the empty dishwasher. They had this discussion often. Just put your damn dishes into the washer instead of the sink. When another bedroom door slammed, he winced and waited for the explosion.

“I am a woman,” Kami shouted from the hallway. “I’m old enough to date!”

“Fifteen is not a woman,” Julie bellowed. “You can’t drive or vote!”

“Menstruating is a sign of womanhood,” Kami shrieked.

Oh, boy. Wishing he could sneak out the backdoor, he put cream cheese on his bagel and waited. It didn’t take long.

“Ray,” Julie said in the doorway, “tell her she’s too young.”

“I need more information first,” he stated, before taking a big bite of his breakfast. Staying neutral is my protection. He leaned back against the counter.

“More information? She’s fifteen!”

“I’d like to hear his questions, Mother,” Kami said with a smug smile.

“Fine.” Julie’s glare could have burned his bagel.

He took another bite and checked the wall clock. Damn. He still had time before he left for the office. With hands on their hips, they stood next to each other and waited. Both women were thin and tall, Kami more gangly then her mother. Tall and thin ran in the Anderson family.

Kami had started volleyball practice and was constantly complaining she was sore, also the reason she couldn’t do her chores. Julie worked the second shift at the local IHOP. Ray and his colleague, Tim Orr, had had her as their waitress once. She got their orders wrong, not even close.

“Who’s the boy? Where does he want to take you?” Ray asked.

“It’s Spenser. And we were going with a group to see a movie,” Kami replied.

“You didn’t tell me it was with a group of kids,” Julie said, scowling.

“You didn’t ask, Mother. You just yell,” she replied. “You always yell.”

“Because you don’t hear me otherwise!”

Ray put his knife in the dishwasher. He’d get coffee on the way. As the yelling ramped up again, he withdrew from the kitchen. Kami and Julie stormed past him and slammed their bedroom doors. They would tie for first place in a door slamming contest. Twice he’d had to adjust their doors’ hinges.

Feeling a nagging headache coming on, he opened his bedroom to retrieve his backpack. His purple octopus was on the floor, arms broken into pieces.

“God damn it!” He silenced their ranting behind their closed doors.

Knowing he rarely lost his temper, Julie and Kami opened theirs to see what had happened. Ray picked up the pieces. He stomped into the kitchen and chucked them into the garbage.

“Sorry,” Julie whispered.

“Me, too,” Kami added.

“Not good enough. I loved that octopus, and now it’s trash. Work. It. Out. And I expect a clean kitchen when I get home.”

He slammed the garage door on the way to his Corvette, his guilty red pleasure. He wanted to peel out, but didn’t. Damn it. I really loved that dumb paperweight.

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