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We have a playful fencing match with our blades of choice, but then she gets close enough to squirt at me and she takes full advantage, catching me in the face.

Since I’m half-blind, I grab for the bowl of sprinkles and fling them in her general direction. She squeals, dancing out of reach around the island, intermittently shooting globs of whipped cream at me any time I get close.

I wipe the whipped cream out of my eyes and lick my lips. “Delicious—but you’re still gonna get it!” I pick up a handful of vanilla ice cream, to the extent that I can, and take three long steps, wiping it in her hair.

“Eeek!” She screams with laughter, trying to wiggle away but I’ve trapped her between my body and the island.

Our bodies are close and for a moment everything stops.

I feel the heat, see her chest rising and falling, and it’s hard to stop myself from touching her.

I stare down into her beautiful face, which is now rosy from laughter and exertion, and wonder how anyone could ever want to hurt this sweet, playful, and gorgeous woman?

Her lips part as she gazes up at me.

Fuck.

That’s an invitation to kiss someone if I ever saw one.

But I’m conflicted.

I don’t want to scare her off.

This is supposed to be her safe space. Where she doesn’t have to worry about doing anything she doesn’t want to do. Where no one hurts her.

And for the first time in my life, I’m not sure if I can—or should—make a move.

Before I can decide, the doorbell rings and I scowl in irritation.

“Fuck.” I grab my phone and pull up the doorbell camera. “It’s my sister.”

“Shit.” She backs away, grabbing a handful of paper towels and dabbing them in her hair.

“I’ll get rid of her. Go on up to your room and try to stay quiet.”

“O-okay.” She looks panicked as she practically races out of the room and up the stairs.

Dammit, Briar.

I take a couple of seconds to get the worst of the whipped cream off my face and shirt, and then look around at the mess.

I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining this. I quickly stuff my bowl—the empty one—into the dishwasher and then head for the front door.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” I’m probably a lot less friendly than I should be with my sister.

“Uncle Dash! I missed you!” Frankie vaults herself in my direction, and I bend to pick her up before she can hit my legs. The hip is doing great, but I don’t need anyone hitting me full force, even someone as small as she is.

“Hey, tater tot.” I kiss her head. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to visit!” Frankie announces firmly.

“I just saw you on Sunday.” I glance at Briar. “You could have called.”

“You always tell me not to come,” she says, breezing past me.

“You're sticky,” Frankie says, wrinkling her nose as she wiggles to get down.

“I had a little whipped cream accident,” I say.