Page 37 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

“Brant.” I closed my eyes as if that would lessen the embarrassment. “The thing is that . . . well . . .” How did I say this? “You and I have a weird history, and I’m trying to stay away from men. All of them. Forever,” I rushed to say before peeking one eye open. I found Brant staring thoughtfully at me, so I opened both eyes.

“Forever, huh?” He sounded disappointed.

“Yes,” I stammered. “Except Oscar and, you know, friends and relatives.”

He slid down the couch until we were almost close enough to touch. Until I could smell his clean, fresh citrus scent and see the violet flecks in his beautiful eyes that were reeling me in. He took the folder from my hands and set it on the coffee table before taking my hand and gently cradling it between his own. Oh, wow. That felt nice. Too nice.

“Kinsley, I would like to think we are friends.” His tone sounded more than friendly.

I could hardly breathe, let alone speak, with him touching me, but I managed to stammer out, “We used to be.”

He hung his head. “I realize I’ve been a poor friend and that I hurt you. I have no excuse, other than to say, I’m trying to right my wrongs. At least those that I can. But this I promise you: if we go into business together, it will be as friends. In fact, it’s best for you if we keep it that way.” He dropped my hand. He’d almost sounded like Dani there at the end. And, once again, he had sent me mixed signals.

“Brant, are you sick?” I couldn’t help but ask. I knew it was none of my business, but if I did consider his offer, I needed to know. And as someone who cared about him, I wanted to know.

He ran a hand through his dark thick hair and blew out a breath. “Define sick.”

I tilted my head. “Physically?” What other kind would I be talking about?

“Hmm. No.”

I sighed in relief but wondered what other kind of sick he thought he was. And if he wasn’t dying, why was my sister acting so strange?

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Have you been worried about me?” He gave me a half smile.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“I’m sorry to have worried you. I’ve just been in the middle of some . . . things.”

He kept saying that. What were these things he spoke of?

“So, why would you want to go into business with me? You look about done for as it is.”

“Because I believe in you,” he said simply.

Oh. I rubbed my heart where he had pricked it. That was probably the most beautiful thing a man had ever said to me.

“And,” he continued, “because soon, when my life settles down, I can’t think of anything better than being business partners with you.”

Did that sound more personal than professional, or was that just me? Or was I thoroughly confused? Regardless, it had definitely done something to my circulatory system, judging by how tingly I felt. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Understandable.” He nodded, resigned. “But why don’t you look at the offer and think it over. In the meantime, tell Giselle and Carter that your attorney won’t let you accept their offer, and they will be hearing from you soon.”

“I will.” Though I knew it wasn’t going to go over well with the pair.

Brant gathered his things. “Kinsley, please give my offer some serious thought. I promise you I’m not looking for anything in return. I don’t blame you for being wary of men right now. We haven’t exactly earned your trust, have we?”

“No,” I whispered.

“I hope to change that.”

I wasn’t sure that was possible. “I’ll look at your offer,” was all I could say.

“You’re probably going to need to act quickly before they get their lawyers involved.”

The thought made me sick to my stomach. “I will. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

I started to uncurl my legs from the chair to see him out, but he waved his hand. “I know the way out. Besides, Oscar looks comfortable in your lap. I would hate to get off on the wrong foot with him.”

I laughed softly.

Brant looked around the old place. “There were some great memories made here.” He pointed at the kitchen pass-through window lined with a few barstools. “I remember the first time you made dinner for us—mushroom asiago chicken. It was the best meal I had ever had up to that point in my life,” he said wistfully.

I had no idea he even remembered that. I had been so nervous to feed him, Dani, and Brock. They had sat on those very stools I had resurrected from Grandma and Grandpa’s garage. I had used the three of them as guinea pigs while I was home for the weekend during culinary school. I had wanted so badly to impress Brant—to make him see me. I’d wanted him to look at me the way he and Brock had looked at Dani. Like the sun rose and set with her. I’d ached to be flirty and fun like her, but all I had been able to do was ramble on about what was in the dish and how I had prepared it. I remembered Brant had been kind about it all, and after they were done eating, they’d all left to go to some show in Carrington Cove. Brant had invited me to come with them, but it had felt like a pity invite, so I’d declined.

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