Steve's Sister is Off Limits!

The doorbell rang just as I finished wiping down the kitchen counter, the sound echoing through my quiet apartment. I glanced at the clock—right on time. Steve had called last week, asking if his little sister could crash here while her place got renovated.

No big deal, I'd thought. Georgia was family in a way, even if I'd only seen her a handful of times at barbecues or holiday get-togethers. She was in her early twenties now, all grown up from the awkward teen I remembered.

I wiped my hands on a towel and headed to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

There she stood, Georgia, lugging a oversized duffel bag over one shoulder and a cardboard box under her arm. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the hallway light, and she wore a simple tank top that hugged her toned curves, paired with cutoff shorts that showed off her athletic legs.

She looked confident, almost too much so, her green eyes sparkling with a mischief I didn't recall from before.

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