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Guy and Sasha may dominate in pool volleyball, but Evie and I take the win in the game of categories. Greer wasn’t kidding when she said the kid has a lot of energy. I think her mouth runs just as fast as her legs, which is pretty damn fast for her size.

In the short time I’ve known her, she’s giving me a full rundown of all the kids in her class, including who’s been on the leaderboard and gotten extra recess time at the end of the week and who’s had to sign “The Book.” Spoiler: Evie and booger-eater Brayden are the only two who’ve lost privileges so far, these nine weeks. Evie for talking out of turn and booger-eater Brayden for wiping boogers on the girls at recess.

Between you and me, I’ll take talking out of turn over the booger-assaulter any day.

Guy’s made good on his promise, too. Not that he’s had much time to ogle, as the kids have kept him pretty busy.

Once Sasha learned of his and Guy’s shared love of soccer, he’s had him out there playing 1v1 nonstop. He doesn’t talk much, but they seem to share a language of soccer.

I notice Greer watching him, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye when Kira isn’t looking.

It’s none of my business, but I can’t help but wonder if their dad is in the picture. I didn’t notice a ring on her finger, but that doesn’t mean things aren’t complicated. It’s not like Kira was wearing a ring when I first met her.

Everyone is entitled to their secrets. God knows we all have them.

I add a generous amount of tequila to my special mix of freshly squeezed citrus juice and blend it until it’s silky smooth. Nothing beats a refreshing, ice-cold margarita on a hot day.

The girls are perched beneath the umbrella, giggling like teenagers as I deliver the tray of fresh drinks. I swap out their dirty glasses, taking a moment to fully appreciate this new side of Kira. She seems so much lighter talking to her sister, and I’m curious why she hasn’t tried to spend more time with her. Maybe I’m making too many assumptions here, but it feels like she’s intentionally keeping her sister at a distance. Why? I have no clue. But it feels too obvious for it not to be.

“You can stop with the butler act. Sit with us,” Greer pleads, tapping the end of her lounge chair for me to take a seat.

I look at Kira for approval, and Greer must notice because she rolls her eyes, then grabs my arm and pulls me down. “You can let him talk to me, Kira. The poor man has been waiting on us all day.”

“What? Don’t look at me like that. He said he likes it.” She looks at me. “Tell her I’m not forcing you to serve us.”

I lean back on my hands and chuckle. “I do enjoy taking care of people.”

“Blink twice if you need help,” Greer volleys back, but there’s humor in her tone.

“I see how you think of me,” Kira says.

I shake my head, careful not to double blink. “Your sister runs a tight program…” My eyes find Kira’s as I say, “But I respect a woman who knows what she wants.”

She immediately looks away, but not before I notice the pink flush of her cheeks.

I can’t seem to figure her out. She has this air of confidence about her in every aspect of life, like the way she stood up for herself on her first day at work and refused to let me fire her. And the night we met, she seemed so sure of herself, the way she took charge. But then last night, it was like a switch flipped. She seemed almost shy, as if she was surprised I wanted to go down on her or something.

Based on the limited information I have about her needle-dick ex, I’d say that wasn’t something she was used to receiving. And I’m not sure if that makes me feel more angry or relieved.

I hate that she doesn’t feel completely confident and safe to be herself and ask for what she wants when it comes to sex, but, selfishly, I’m so fucking happy that I get to be the one to help her discover that part of herself.

Something about knowing that I’m the perfect man to help her come out of her shell lights me up inside and out.

Fuck, I’m already getting hard just thinking about it.

I cross my ankle over my knee and discreetly adjust myself before anyone notices, sneaking a glance at the sisters, who now seem to be in a heated debate.

“Oh my God, are you serious right now?” Greer scoffs, her hands waving animatedly as she talks. “You leave a trail of mess behind you everywhere you go!”

Kira rolls her eyes. “I do not.”

“Okay, so now we’re just flat-out lying,” Greer says before slurping the remnants of margarita from her glass. “You’re a rat girl. Just admit it.”

“I am not,” Kira snaps back, looking offended. “There’s a difference between dirty and messy.”

“I never said you were dirty. I said you were a rat,” Greer clarifies.

Both of their heads snap in my direction, and I hold up my hands.