Wicked Whimsy by Lily Harper Hart

Author:Lily Harper Hart [Hart, Lily Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperHart Publications
Published: 2018-07-03T05:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Max found Ivy rummaging through her purse when he let himself into the cottage shortly after ten. He expected her to meet him on the front porch – they were both excited to get some morel hunting in – but she barely looked up when she heard the door open.

“If you expect to win the competition by looking in your purse, you’re going to be sucking my dust all day,” Max teased.

“What?” Ivy lifted her eyes and frowned. “Oh, no. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to the money I had in here yesterday.”

“It’s missing?”

“It seems to be.” Ivy thoughtfully tapped her bottom lip. “I told Dad to get money out of my wallet for lunch at the nursery yesterday, though. Maybe he forgot to put the money back when he was done.”

“That doesn’t sound like Dad,” Max argued. “In fact, I’m surprised he even took your money at all. He usually likes to be the provider.”

“Yeah. I had Josh, too. Maybe he didn’t have enough to cover all of us.”

“Maybe.” Max remained unconvinced. “Do you want me to call him?”

“No.” Ivy shook her head. “I’ll see him at the nursery later. I’ll just ask him then. It’s not a big deal. It was only fifty bucks. I’ll just run to the ATM when we’re finished.”

“You mean when I’m finished wiping the floor with you,” Max corrected, causing Ivy’s eyes to narrow.

“Oh, you know what?” Ivy got to her feet and left her purse on the dining room table. “Bring it on. I’m going to make you cry when I’m finished with you.”

Max snorted. “Oh, puh-leez. I’m going to beat the pants off you … although not in a yucky way because you’re my sister and I just realized that came off grosser than I thought it would.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ivy rolled her eyes and snagged the pillowcase from the counter. “Are you ready to watch me win?”

“I’m ready to watch you whine.”

“Then let’s do it. We don’t have all day. Some of us have work to do.”

Max snickered. “I work harder than you do five days a week … and twice on Sunday.”

“You don’t work weekends.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Ivy confirmed, bobbing her head. “I know that you’re an exaggerator of the highest order. It’s never more apparent than when you say you’re a better morel hunter than me.”

“Oh, you’re going down.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

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