Page 62 of Down Knot Out
“Quinn,” I snap in warning.
“No, it’s okay,” he tells her, a hitch in his breath as he picks up the basket. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Quinn watches him go, then turns to me. “Did I hurt his feelings?”
“No, but that was rude, and you should apologize when he comes back out,” I reprimand. “Holden is not your servant. He’s your uncle.”
Her bottom lip juts out and wobbles.
I sigh and hold out my arms. “I’m sorry, princess. Come here.”
She scrambles over to curl up in my lap. “I didn’t mean to be bad.”
“I know.” I kiss the top of her head. “But wehave to remember how much Uncle Holden does to take care of us. And we can’teverlet him think we take that for granted. Understand?”
She nods, her eyes downcast.
I tickle her sides. “Do you know what would make Uncle Holden happy?”
She squirms and falls off my lap. “What?”
“If you drew a picture of him and you baking together.”
She brightens instantly, all sadness forgotten. “I can do that!”
While she picks up her crayons, I check my phone again.
Nothing from Chloe.
I twist toward the kitchen, worried about the strain on Holden’s face and the way his hands shook when he set the basket down. My gut tightens, not liking the look on his face.
“Keep drawing, princess.” I kiss the top of her head before rising.
Quinn stays with her crayons, humming as she draws lopsided ovals on the paper.
When I enter the kitchen, Holden’s back is to me. A fresh pot of coffee percolates away on the hot plate, and he stands next to his mixer, measuring ingredients into the large bowl.
I pretend not to notice the tightness of hisshoulders or the nervous set of his jaw. “Need a hand?”
“No.” He dumps in cubes of butter. “I can do it.”
I move a step closer. “Hey. You don’t have to bake more muffins just because Quinn is being a brat.”
His posture slumps, and he rests his head on the top of the mixer. “I know, I’m just…”
I wrap an arm around him. “She’ll come back. Dom is with her.”
The tang of his anxiety thickens, like vanilla frosting left out in the sun. “Maybe one of us should have gone with her instead of Dom.”
I rub my cheek against his, purring softly. “To Dom’s doctor’s appointment?”
He huffs out a breath. “Okay, that was silly of me.”
My heart aches with the need to comfort him, but I’m not sure what to say. There’s nothing that isn’t a repetition of what I’vebeensaying since we got the call last night. We can’t stop Chloe from ever leaving the island. Hell, she’d almost died while on Misty Pines twice now.
“I can have Quinn pick up her mess, and then we can all go for a walk.” When he doesn’t respond, I prod, “Holden?”
He lifts his head, and I catch the sheen in his hazel eyes before he blinks it away. “No. I want to be here when she gets back. And I might as well bake Quinn her chocolate muffins while I wait.”
