Page 7 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

Oh no. That would cause immense emotional pain. A crick in my neck I could deal with. Heartache was much worse. “Really, it’s okay.” I kept my focus on the movie, though I had no idea what was going on now. All thoughts were centered on how it would feel to sit next to Brant. Here’s a clue: it would feel amazing. Too amazing.

“Kinsley,” he said, so affectionately my head turned his way of its own accord. I found him with his handsome head tilted, studying me as if I were a final exam. He swallowed several times, like he didn’t know the answers to the test. Then he patted the space next to him. “Come sit by me,” he whispered. “Please.”

My heart began pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. For a moment, I played the Should I or Not game in my head. Jill kept coming to mind, but . . . Jill wasn’t here.

Brant patted the space next to him again, and I popped up like there was a spring under me and zoomed his way, making sure not to sit too close, but close enough.

Brant smiled like he was pleased. He kicked off his shoes, grabbed the bowl of popcorn, and settled in next to me. I took that as my cue and unzipped my boots before removing them and leaning back against the couch.

Brant held up the bowl of popcorn, making it easier for me to grab a handful. “This is better,” he commented. Easy for him to say; my pulse was now racing at an unhealthy level.

I popped a few kernels into my mouth and tried my best to ignore the urge I had to crawl onto his lap and let our lips get acquainted. I was doing a terrible job as visions of tasting him kept dancing in my head. This went on for several minutes. I was sure I was going to have an aneurysm.

Brant seemed completely unbothered by my presence, saying things like, “This is my favorite part.” Or “Pay attention to this scene; it’s critical for the entire story arc.”

I literally couldn’t pay attention to anything but him. It didn’t help when a few times our hands brushed against each other while reaching for the popcorn in the bowl. I thought for sure the sparks on my skin would set the popcorn on fire.

When Brant offered me something to drink again, I took him up on it. I downed the ice water, trying to cool off, but it didn’t do anything to quell the fire that he had ignited inside of me. This beautiful torture went on and on and on. Stars Wars ended, and I almost begged him to take me home, not sure I could endure the pain of being so close to him, yet so far away. But Brant didn’t seem to be in any hurry to say goodbye, and he immediately put on the next movie, The Empire Strikes Back. Halfway through that movie, my body couldn’t take the adrenaline rush anymore. My heart rate slowed, allowing me to breathe. I felt as if I had been holding my breath for hours.

Thankfully, Harrison Ford, a.k.a. Han Solo, was somewhat distracting, and I began to pay more attention to the movie Brant so clearly loved, as evidenced by the huge smile on his face and the way he could quote each line by heart.

The second movie ended near midnight, but that didn’t stop Brant from queuing up Return of the Jedi, his favorite of the trilogy. He didn’t even ask if I wanted to stay, almost as if he were afraid I would say no. Little did he know, I would stay forever if he asked.

Halfway through the movie, the adrenaline had completely worn off and my eyelids started getting heavy. I’d been fighting sleep throughout the entire movie, but it was becoming a losing battle. One I must have given into, because I was having a beautiful dream. Brant was stroking my hair and face. In the background, I could hear the stormtroopers marching. Then he whispered, “I remember the first time you fell asleep on me.”

I remembered it too. I wondered how he remembered it. I went to ask him, but there was a disconnect between my mouth and my brain. It was then I realized I wasn’t dreaming. My head was leaning on Brant’s strong shoulder.

I jolted up and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said so sexily, I questioned whether I really was dreaming. It didn’t help when he ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “I was just thinking about the night we flew home from Jonah’s wedding.”

I thought about that night, seven years ago, more than I would ever own up to. Dani, Brock, Brant, and I had all flown to Nantucket on the Hollands’ private jet to watch Jonah marry his now ex-wife, Eliza. I wasn’t quite twenty-one. I’d felt so grown up, being asked to hang out with the “big kids.” Brant was twenty-eight at the time and so full of life, and even more full of himself. But who could have blamed him? He had been so dashing in his dark suit and tie. Every woman at the reception, married or single, had wanted him and Brock. I had watched Brant most of the night, and it seemed like he’d danced with each woman there. I had been so disappointed when the final dance of the night, “Come Away with Me” by Norah Jones, began to play and I realized I wasn’t going to get my chance to dance with him. That he’d overlooked me. Then he’d appeared almost out of nowhere and held his hand out to me. Without a thought, I had taken his hand and let him lead us out onto the dance floor. We’d said nothing as he had pulled me close, and we’d swayed to the rhythm of the music while I’d breathed in everything about him. From the way his strong hand rested on the small of my back, holding me firmly against him, to the way he’d moved in perfect time to the music. Or the way his strawberry-scented breath had brushed across my skin as he’d breathed in and out. I had especially loved that he’d seemed reluctant to let me go after the song ended. How he’d looked as dazed as I’d felt when we parted.

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