Page 24 of Little Witch

"Extremely. We're hunting conkers. Ones bigger than your head."

She squinted at me like she was trying to work out if I was joking. I wasn't, entirely.

"You have a bigger head than me you asshole." She snorted.

I grinned. "Biggest one wins," I steered her toward the treeline at the edge of the grove. "Loser has to admit defeat with dignity."

"And if I don't have dignity to spare?"

"Then you'll owe me a kiss instead."

That got a proper laugh out of her, bright and surprised. Until she realised I was not joking.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because we're... we're family."

I shrugged. "If that's what you think then fine. But I..." I ran a hand over my face. "I don't. You're obviously family to me, but in... in a different way. In a way that means I want a kiss as a prize, if you want to give it. And if you don't then fine. We can pretend I said nothing."

My racing heart told me how much I was hoping for one answer.

Amber eventually smiled, "That's a very convenient prize for you to set. You get what you want twice over."

"I'm an efficient man. Multiple birds, one stone."

We spread out under the canopy, kicking through drifts of fallen leaves. She crouched every few steps, inspecting candidates with far more seriousness than the activity warranted, muttering to herself about size versus shine versus "structural integrity," whatever that meant in relation to a conker.

"You're taking this very seriously," I said.

"I'm a competitive person. You've clearly forgotten that about me."

"I remember you crying at Monopoly that one Christmas when we were nine." I grinned.

"I was robbed. You got me to land on your hotel on purpose."

"I did not have that level of premeditation at nine years old."

She huffed. "You've always been suspiciously good at getting your way."

I let that one sit, because she wasn't wrong, and because arguing the point felt less appealing than watching her stalk off toward another pile of leaves with the single-minded focus of someone hunting treasure instead of tree nuts.

I let her win the first round on purpose, mostly to watch her face light up when she held her conker aloft like a trophy.

"Better than anything you've found," she declared.

"Debatable." I crouched, dug through a pile near an old oak root, and came up with one twice the size of hers, glossy and dark. "But I'll allow you the moral victory."

She narrowed her eyes at me, stepping closer, some competitive spark flaring behind them that I'd missed more than I wanted to admit over three years of not having it aimed at me. "You're just afraid to actually lose."

"I've never been afraid of losing to you." I closed the last of the distance between us, close enough now that her breath caught audibly, close enough I could see exactly how fast her pulse had picked up at the base of her throat. "I think we both already know how this ends, though."

"Do we?"

"You tell me. You never disagreed to my deal."

Her cheeks went pink, but she didn't argue the point, which told me everything I needed to know.