9 LUKEMy sister’s timing sucked. Had for years. The brat had the audacity to be born during our Little League championship game, abruptly stealing my thunder when I hit my first home run.
Keeping up her perfect record, Molly had just interrupted a kiss that I’d been working for—and thinking about—all afternoon. And now she had the nerve to beam at us as she joined us on the porch.
“Stay for dinner,” Molly insisted when Charlotte mumbled some excuse and said she’d better get going.
I nodded when Charlotte looked in my direction, gauging my reaction. If she stayed, I might get another chance at that kiss.
“I’m grilling fish,” Molly told her, and added with a wink, “Healthy.”
Charlotte smiled. “I really have no choice then, do I.”
“No, ma’am.” Molly pulled open the screen door, glowing
