Page 54 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

Ariana bit her lip. “Yeah. It’s weird.”

“Yeah. Very weird.” I was about to ask Ariana why she thought our sister was behaving abnormally, but said sister arrived just then with her family. Along with my silent partner. So I did what anyone in my shoes would do—I pretended not to notice and busied myself making the hot chocolate. I’d cooked so many dishes at Ariana’s, I knew where everything was. After Sammy was born, I’d frequently come over to make dinner for them so Ariana and Jonah could rest. Sammy had had his days and nights mixed up for several weeks. He still wasn’t the best sleeper at night, but Ariana never complained, at least not to me. She’d never thought she’d get the chance to be a mom, so she savored all of it, even the hard things.

I went to work warming up the milk and melting the cocoa and chocolate into it while everyone filed into the kitchen. I did my best to ignore everyone, except my nieces, who I covertly motioned over to come help me. They eagerly skipped over, even Whitney, who was still wary of eating too many sweets. That was her biological mom’s doing. It wasn’t a bad thing, per se, but no little kid should be that worried about their health. Life was too short.

I lowered the heat and bent down to hug Gemma and Whitney. I wrapped my arms around them both. “Okay, next weekend, it’s just the three of us. We’re going to have the best sleepover ever.”

“Sounds like fun,” a very masculine voice said.

I looked up to find Brant had joined us in the kitchen.

“You can come,” Gemma invited him.

Brant’s beautiful eyes lit up in a devious manner.

I stood to clear up a few things. Well, really one thing. “Sorry, no boys or men allowed.”

“Aw,” Gemma pouted.

I tapped her nose. “I’ve got a new kitten,” I reminded her.

She clapped her hands together, forgetting all about Uncle Brant. “Yes!”

I smirked at Brant.

“Maybe you should get a cat too,” Whitney suggested to Brant. “Then you can come.”

Brant went to say something, but I headed him off at the pass. “Sorry, my kitty doesn’t like other cats.”

Whitney mulled that over before shrugging. “Okay. Sorry, Uncle Brant, you can’t come.” Whitney called him Uncle Brant too, even though he technically wasn’t her uncle, but he was just so much a part of the family. I let that sink in a bit. He did seem like he belonged, at least when he was around, which hadn’t been much until lately. And even then, he was still pretty scarce. I assumed it was the big case he was working on. Maybe he was defending someone in witness protection or something. That was another theory I would try on. At least, after I dared Brant with my eyes to contradict the cute seven-year-old who had just put him in his place.

Brant shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

I shook my head no, and he laughed, which drew the attention of Dani. I could feel her stare, so I turned to look at her. There she stood, clinging to Brock and biting her lip, looking between me and Brant.

“What?” I mouthed. She just needed to come out with whatever it was. If she knew Brant was protecting a Mafia crime boss or potential hit, she should probably let me know.

She gave me a shaky smile before turning to Brock. So odd.

I looked to Brant to perhaps give me his take, but he was kneeling on the ground, trying to recruit my nieces for his coup of my sleepover. “Ladies, this is serious,” he told them. “Your job is to get your Aunt Kinsley to invite me. You will be rewarded for your efforts,” he bribed them.

I cleared my throat, and he looked up at me with an innocent smile.

“Girls, can I have a minute to talk to your uncle?”

They both looked at me wide-eyed but didn’t move an inch.

“Whitney, you should show Gemma your Halloween costume,” I suggested. That did it. Whitney took Gemma’s hand, and they were off.

Before I could deal with Brant, I needed to stir the pumpkin puree and spices into the milk mixture. He leaned against the counter near the stove and watched with what seemed like utter fascination. It was extremely distracting. It didn’t help that he looked like a million dollars in his fitted jeans and classic dark turtleneck. He was a god among men. Regardless, he wasn’t invited to the sleepover. I wasn’t even sure why he was so adamant about coming. Perhaps that was a lie. Was his mom—and my family—right? How did I feel about that? Confused was a good word for it. I’d dreamed about him since I was sixteen. It was a long time to hold on to something that was probably never going to happen. I mean, I had given up over the last couple of years. Sort of. There were still many nights I had wished he would see it was me he really wanted.

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