Phoebe's POV
Dale's voice cut through the phone, steady but ice-cold. "Phoebe, Julian mentioned you're bringing Harold home tomorrow?"
I shot a quick glance at Harold before nodding, even though my uncle couldn't see me. "Yeah. We're catching a flight tonight and should touch down in the afternoon tomorrow."
Silence stretched from Dale's end for several long seconds. "Understood. Safe travels."
The line went dead. Harold studied my face with raised eyebrows. "Why do I get the feeling your uncles have already mentally dismembered me, and I haven't even shown up yet?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "What's wrong? Getting cold feet? Still planning to pop the question in front of my uncles?"
Harold reached over and pinched my cocky cheek. "Cold feet? Please. A small hurdle like this won't break my stride."
I just grinned, staying quiet. Small hurdle? What waited for Harold wasn't some minor obstacle—it was two protective forces ready for battle.
