Page 24 of Big Dill

His laugh bursts out of him. “You’re okay then?”

“Pride,” I say lightly, because it’s easier than admitting I’m still a little rattled. He drops his hand and drags his wool toque back and forth over his head, like he’s scratching an itch.

Jami steps in and punches him playfully in the ribs. “Taking us both out with one snowball. Rube Goldberg would be proud.”

Jaxon laughs again and rubs his knuckles over the top of her head, a gesture that’s pure older brother.

“You’re never going to forgive me for this, are you?” Jaxon asks.

She wriggles out of his reach. “Not if it means I get out of dishes for a week.”

His grin shifts as he looks at me, something softer settling in his expression, like he’s suddenly somewhere else, years ago. A childhood memory. “Some things never change.”

As cold creeps into my bones, Jami steps into me, as if instinctively seeking my heat. I resist the urge to rest my hand at the small of her back, the space between sparking.

“Let’s get you inside. Somewhere warm. At least for a minute.”

“I could use another coffee,” Jami agrees, her breath fogging the air between us.

Jaxon glances at his watch. “I’d join you, but I’ve got some paperwork that needs my attention.”

“Bank meeting go okay?” I ask.

He nods once. “All good. Come by the social after the tour,” he says, already backing away. “I’m excited for you to see the space. Maybe I’ll even teach you to play pickleball.”

“That sounds about as exciting as…” Jami pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “…removing my toenails with pliers.”

“I’ll make a picklehead out of you yet.” He gives her a gentle shove.

She slips.

“Jaxon!” she squeals, and I catch her, my arms coming around her automatically. She fits there like she belongs, her laugh is warm against the cold bite of the air.

Jaxon winces. “Sorry.”

“Big brother,” she says, twisting to look back at him, “I love you, but you do not know your own strength.”

“He really doesn’t, does he?” I murmur. “And maybe we need to get you a new pair of boots,” I add still holding her, maybe a beat too long.

But Jaxon doesn’t notice. And I don’t let go just yet.

Jaxon hangs his head. “I think that just earned me two weeks of dishes.”

Jami stays close, her back pressed against my chest as she points a finger at her brother. “Negotiations will continue once I have feeling back in my face.”

He chuckles. “Go on, get inside. I have to run. See you at the social.”

Jaxon gives us a quick grin and jogs off. Jami shakes her head, still catching her breath. “Pickle Ball Falls. Social space for pickleheads. There’s no way a business like that isn’t going to make itself world-renowned.”

“That’s the plan. Bring people in from everywhere. Competitions, events⁠—”

“Olympics,” she interjects, eyes wide, and I’m about to guide her across the street when she stops abruptly, glancing both ways.

“No caribou or meese,” she jokes. “We’re good.”

I grin as we cross and cast her a glance. “Olympics. You dream big. I like that,” I tell her but she frowns and glances down at her snow-dusted boots. “Was it something I said?”

“No,” she murmurs. “It’s… I have dreams. Big dreams. But…”