“It’s extremely… primal.”
“Primal?”
“Yeah, like my ovaries are doing a tap dance. It’s very hot.”
I pause mid-swing. “You can’t say things like that right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to build you somewhere to sleep and not think about sex.”
She snorts. “Good luck with that.”
I hammer harder than necessary.
We work, and by work, I meanIwork while Piper cheers enthusiastically from her glitter throne until the tent is finally secure.
I’m sweaty and already covered in grass and dirt.
Piper stands beside me, hands on her hips, surveying our campsite proudly.
“It’s crooked,” she announces.
“Don’t you start,” I warn, poking her ribs playfully.
She smirks again. “I’m just saying.”
“It’s a tent. Not a skyscraper.”
She squints and opens her mouth to say something, but I cut in.
“Piper.”
“Yes?”
“Stop insulting the tent. It did nothing to you.”
She grins and bumps her shoulder into mine. Glitter transfers across my shirt right before she lifts her hands and wipes the residue across my cheeks.
“My little princess,” she coos.
Before I can respond, she takes my phone out of my back pocket like a little pickpocket, opens the camera, and angles it toward us. “Smile.”
“No,” I say just to test her, because I enjoy her little tantrums.
She takes the picture anyway. My face is half-grimace, half-squint. Her face is pure sunbeams.
When she looks at the photo, a smile so warm spreads across her face that I find my own mouth matching it.
Her smile is contagious. It always has been.
I shake my head and drag a hand over my jaw.
She’s becoming dangerously addictive.
Her voice softens. “You really did all of this for me?”
I meet her eyes. “Yes.”
