“FINCH, STOP PLAYING with your food,” I said when a blueberry bounced off my cheek and landed on the kitchen floor. I straightened from my task of cleaning the refrigerator to frown over the top of the breakfast bar. “Aisla, stop encouraging him.”
He whistled, and I looked up to find the fool balanced on the back of a chair with three more blueberries in his arms. Aisla stood on the table, watching him with a delighted smile. As soon as he saw he had our attention, he juggled the blueberries while trying to stay on his perch.
Aisla squeaked and clapped her hands, and Finch puffed out his chest. I shook my head. I suspected my brother had a crush on the nixie, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. I’d started adoption proceedings for Aisla, so wouldn’t that make her his sister? I r
