As if on cue, Hank rounded the hood and opened the passenger door. Two small heads bobbed anxiously in the backseat; it looked like they were waiting for her.

"Your brother?" Ali repeated, letting the words sink in. The revelation was completely out of left field, yet it now made complete sense. So that's why the two were so close. And it also explained why Hank cut himself off when he almost said my sister. But this also gave Ali another reason why she needed to get out of the obligation.

"Um, is he okay with that?" she asked, recalling how they last parted ways: soaked, irritated, and not least of all, uncomfortable.

Hooking an arm into hers, Liz led Ali down the steps. "Are you kidding? Hank should be thankful he has you as backup," she said with a laugh. "I love those munchkins to death, but they can be a handful."

"Awesome," Ali mumbled. More awkwardness with Hank, and with the added bonus of kids, was all she needed. She skidded to a stop. "Shoot. I forgot to sign out."

"Don't worry. I've got you." Liz pushed her forward. "Have fun!"

Ali lowered her gaze as she walked down the driveway and climbed into the truck. She could feel Hank watching her the entire way, and she balled her fists to ease her nerves. It didn't help that he remained silent even as she passed by, and she wondered if he really was as okay with her coming along as his sister had implied. Even so, he remained as chivalrous as before, waiting for her to get settled before closing her door.

"Who are you?" asked a child from the backseat.

She turned to get a better look at Liz's kids. The boy—glancing at her before resuming disinterestedly staring out the window—was the spitting image of his mother: lanky with large brown eyes and thick, dark hair that almost grazed his shoulders. He looked a few years older than his sister, who had asked the question. With golden curls framing her round face, she was small enough to still need a booster seat.

"My name is Alejandra, but you can call me Ali. What's your name?" she asked back.

"Sarah." The girl looked up through her long lashes, hugging an iPad to her chest.

"What a beautiful name." Ali drew forth everything in her "how to talk to kids" repertoire, starting with a compliment. It was always a safe bet, along with asking about age. "How old are you, Sarah?"

"Seven?" She sounded a bit unsure.

"Wow. You're quite big." Ali nodded in emphasis. Recalling the ages of her cousins' children, she took a guess. "Are you in first grade, then?"

The little girl pouted. "No. Second."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sarah." Ali smiled and turned toward the boy, who shifted in his seat. Before she could address him, Hank slipped into the driver's seat and started the truck. As he pulled away from the lodge, they all waved to Liz, who was standing at the top of the porch.

"You owe me a shirt," he said out of the blue, interrupting the introductions.

Facing forward again, Ali was baffled by his choice of greeting and she had to take a moment to consider her response. But Hank's icy expression quickly softened, and although she only had a profile view, when the corner of his mouth turned up and creases formed by his eye, she laughed in relief.

"My wardrobe has been seriously lacking in flannel, but if you insist—"

"Let go, Colin!" Sarah's shriek interrupted the moment. With the tablet raised above her head, she attempted to forcefully keep it out of her brother's reach.

"No," he yelled back as he struggled in vain against his seat belt, waving his arms toward the girl. "I want to watch YouTube."

"But I want to play games," Sarah whined as she turned away from him, unlocked the screen, and tapped open an icon.

"I'm going to take that thing away from both of you if you can't share," Hank chimed in.

Seeing Colin ready to make another lunge, Ali decided to buy Sarah some time. "What kind of stuff do you like to watch online, Colin?" she asked as if the fight hadn't just happened.

The boy shrugged. "Games, mostly."

"Wait." Hank glanced over his shoulder at his nephew. "You watch other people play games?"

"Yeah," Colin said, looking completely baffled at the question.

Hank stared in confusion. "That's a thing?"

"Oh, yeah." Ali nodded. "My brother shot this guy for an article in Forbes a few months back who's not even legally old enough to drink but has already made millions from recording videos of himself playing games," she explained.

"Your brother shot somebody?" Sarah whispered in shock.

"Oh, no. Not like that. He took pictures with his camera. My brother is a photographer," she explained, and the little girl relaxed.

"Dad shot a buck with a rifle, but Mom's a vegetarian so she wasn't very happy about it," Colin said, scrunching his nose at the recollection.

"I can imagine." Ali laughed. It was the first mention of the children's father. Although she was curious to learn more, it could wait. In case Liz's relationship had ended in divorce or even his death, she didn't want to reopen any wounds by saying something she shouldn't.

Luckily, the kids soon agreed on a schedule for sharing the iPad, and Ali turned back to Hank. "Seriously, though; sorry about the shirt. I've been meaning to get it to you, but I've been a bit distracted the last couple of days."

"No worries. Ability is nothing without opportunity," he said, sounding a bit like a fortune cookie, but she had an odd feeling his words weren't meant to be taken at face value.

"Confucius?" she guessed.

Hank smiled without taking his eyes off the road. "Too far east and more than two millennia too early. Napoleon, actually," he said.

"Interesting," Ali said with an approving nod. "Are you a fan of tragically fated revolutionaries or early-nineteenth-century French history?"

He shrugged. "A bit of both, I'd say."

Handsome and smart; she liked the way this was heading. "I'm afraid I know more about Baroque art than continental empire building," she said.

"I won't hold it against you," he deadpanned.

Witty, too. Ali couldn't hold back a smile. "Thank you. That's quite considerate."

The rest of the drive to the fair in Pueblo was mostly uneventful, with Hank only having to threaten to pull over twice to stop his nibling's bickering.

"Good grief, I'm turning into my father," he complained when the kids calmed down.

"I still can't believe you and Liz are related," Ali admitted. "Are there any more siblings I should know about? Wait, the guy who runs the lodge's gym isn't your brother, is he?"

"Why?" He laughed. "Do you want me to set you and Mike up?"

Ali pretended to think it over. "Eh. I guess not. I don't think I'd feel comfortable dating anyone whose job description includes pointing out my flaws and suggesting ways to improve them."

He glanced at her. "I don't think you'd have anything to worry about. At any rate, Mike's great, even if he's not family, but it was always just Liz and me."

"Were you a jerk to Mommy when you were little like Colin is to me, Uncle Hank?" Sarah asked from the backseat.

"Don't call your brother names, Sarah. And you're going to have to ask your mother that." He laughed before turning back to Ali. "So, no meatheads, huh?"

"What?" Ali asked. She'd lost track of the topic.

Hank shook his head. "Never mind. We're here, anyway," he said, pulling into the fairground's huge parking lot.

After they'd found a free spot, Ali helped Sarah down the truck's raised step.

"What's wrong with your hand?" asked the girl as she pointed to her cast.

Keep it short and simple. "I broke my wrist," she said.

"How?" Sarah tilted her head and gazed up at her with wide eyes.

She smirked. Kids and their never-ending questions. "I was clumsy."

The little girl took Ali's hand and walked beside her. "I like the color," Sarah said.

Ali blushed at the confirmation that she was two decades too old for pin, but Hank agreed with is niece. "Me too," he said with a smile.

Ali's face burned even hotter. "It would look good on you. Goth princess cowboy is so in right now." She grinned and pointed to the black hat on his head.

"I'm usually more pragmatic than modish, but I can't argue with that." He reached into the backseat. "And speaking of practicality . . ." Emerging with two hats, he slapped one on each of the kids' heads.

"Very stylish," Ali said, complimenting Sarah's floppy sun hat, while Colin expertly worked to shape the lid of his ball cap.

"You didn't bring a hat?" Hank asked, making Ali conscious of the relentless sun. When she grimaced sheepishly in response, he sighed. "All right. I guess I know where we'll start."