Miss Fix-It

I wet my lips with my tongue.

He glanced down at my mouth. He just barely tightened his grip on my waist, his fingers twitching as he fought the battle between looking at my lips and meeting my eyes.

Oh god, this is wrong.

I wanted him to kiss me. Right now. Out of nowhere. In the musty garage where the air conditioner had stopped working yet again, because that was so fucking romantic.

What was wrong with me?

“Noooo! Ewi! Bwing back Twiwight! Noooooooo!” Ellie’s voice reached a crescendo that slammed into me as the scream got closer and closer to the door.

Brantley and I parted like the other was on fire. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked away, my cheeks heating up furiously.

“What on Earth is going on?”

“He stole Twiwight,” a red-faced, sobbing Ellie said by the door. She sniffed. “He won’t wet Barbie get married, and I need Twiwight because she the bwidesmaid.”

At least, that’s what I thought she’d said. It was hard to tell between the snot and the crying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brantley get on one knee and sit Ellie on the step. As I pretended not to look, he lifted the hem of his shirt and wiped at her eyes. Then, he pulled it off, and wiped her nose with it.

Damn it. That should not be a sweet thing to do.

Shame my heart didn’t get the message. It swooned right out of the garage.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Is that a bit better?”

She wiped her nose and nodded. “I want Twiwight back.”

He stood up. “Eli! Come here.”

There was silence.

“I’m going to count to five,” Brantley continued. “And if you don’t come here by the time I get there, your sister gets the remote control all afternoon.”

I rolled my eyes. “Such a man threat to make.”

He looked over his shoulder and winked.

Okay. Back muscles, winking, and gray sweatpants?

Shoot me down and call me Sally. I think I just came on the spot.

I was certainly a little uncomfortable down there, that was for sure.

I peered at him as he started to count. Yup. Definitely uncomfortable. From the shoulders right down to the dimples at the base of this spine…

“No! I am not watching Sofia all day!” Eli appeared as if from nowhere, and I suspected he was a lot closer than he’d pretended to be.

Brantley folded his arms across his chest, the snotty, tear-stained t-shirt hanging from one hand.

I gave up all pretense of not watching and, well, watched.

“Please give your sister back Twilight Sparkle.”

Eli frowned and held the purple pony closer to him. “No.”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

“She won’t give me Eye-on Man!”

Eye-on Man. Oh, my god.

Brantley sighed. “Ellie, Barbie is going to have to marry Ken.”

Ellie folded her arms across her chest. “But Ken was kissing her fwiend.” She frowned. “Bad Ken.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so I didn’t laugh.

“Very bad Ken,” Brantley agreed. “He’ll have to stop kissing her friend so he can marry Barbie. If you give Eli Iron Man, he’ll give you Twilight Sparkle back.”

She tilted her chin up, peering down her nose at Brantley. As her little lips pursed into displeasure, you could almost see the cogs of her mind whirring to make the decision.

Then, she slumped. “Fine,” she sighed. “Ewi can had Iron Man.”

God, I loved the way she talked.

“Here you go.” Eli held out the pony.

Ellie scrambled and took it. “Fank you.”

“Now, go get Iron Man, and leave each other alone, okay? You can have a snack soon.”

They both nodded in perfect sync. They even turned and ran in sync.

“You’d think I’d be used to that,” Brantley said, turning to me with a speculative look on his face. “But…Nope. Not at all.”

I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my lips. “It makes me want to run for the hills, honestly. It’s really weird.”

“That’s nothing. Not really.”

“What does that mean?”

He threw his t-shirt through the door and moved for a box. His muscles flexed as he picked it up, and shit, this was not in my contract!

“They didn’t speak until they were three. Not properly. I swear they can communicate with each other without speaking.” He checked the side of a box and grunted when he picked it up.

“Isn’t that a thing, though? Don’t they say that some twins do have some weird connection where they can communicate without words?”

“I think I heard that somewhere, too.” He huffed as he put down the box. “It’s weird. I don’t know if they couldn’t speak until they were three, or if they simply chose not to. Whatever it was, when they started properly, it took them about two weeks to go from saying twenty words a day to having conversations with everyone, no matter who they were.”

“I can’t imagine them doing that,” I said dryly. “They’re so quiet.”