Page 65 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

While we were plowing through the cookies and being inundated with frilly princess songs and unicorns, someone knocked on the door. Reluctantly, I left my favorable spot cozied between my two favorite little girls. I crawled out of the fort, wondering who it could be. We didn’t get solicitors out here. It was probably Grandma, who could never get enough of ‘the grands’ as she called them. I smiled as I walked over, listening to Whitney explain to Gemma that unicorns weren’t really real. “Except,” she explained, “two hundred thousand years ago, there used to be the Elasmotherium sibiricum, which belongs in the rhinoceros family. It only had one horn, but it wasn’t pretty like a horse at all.” Whitney would always be the smartest person in the room.

I opened the door while trying to spell Elasmotherium sibiricum in my head, but I didn’t even think I could pronounce it right. It didn’t help when all my brain cells combusted at the sight of who I found standing on the front porch, holding two adorable stuffed puppies. Honestly, for a moment I couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t allowed to appear out of nowhere. Especially after ignoring me. And definitely not after I’d taken the bitter medicine to alleviate myself of any hope of there ever being an us.

I narrowed my eyes at the intruder. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you no boys or men allowed.” I meant that now more than ever.

He smirked before letting himself in and shutting the door like he was staying for a while. “I was under the impression those were guidelines, not actual rules.”

I was about to tell him it was a rock-solid, no-crossing-the-line kind of rule, especially for him, but Gemma and Whitney were out of the fort with Gemma running toward Brant, jostling poor Oscar as she went.

“Uncle Brant, Uncle Brant, you’re here!” She held up Oscar, who I swore looked at me like, “Please save me from this child.” “Look at Aunt Kinsley’s kitty. He’s so cute.”

“The scientific name for cat is Felis catus,” Whitney informed us.

I wrapped an arm around her. “I didn’t know that.”

“I thought so.” She snuggled into my side.

“Well, I brought you each a Stuffalafagus canine.” Brant held out the cute brown stuffed puppies.

Whitney scrunched her nose. “That isn’t a scientific name. You made that up.”

I seriously loved her calling him out. Even though I had to admit how adorable he was. He was going to be the best dad someday to some really lucky kids. That thought hurt to the very core of who I was. But the door was shut, and I would put cinder blocks in front of it if I had to.

“Are you sure?” Brant smiled at her.

Whitney tapped her lip in thought. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Brant knelt in front of the girls. “Well . . . maybe I did make it up, but I wanted you to have these.” He offered up the stuffed animals.

Whitney took hers and said thank you, but Gemma wasn’t letting go of Oscar for anything. “You keep him for me.”

I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing.

Brant blinked a few times, stunned by the rejection.

“Look who’s the favorite now,” I whispered.

Brant stood and got in my space, like deep in my space. That cologne of his was going to be the death of me, as was his smile. “The night is still young.” His eyes danced with amusement. Yeah, those babies were going to kill me off too.

Lock the door. Lock the door. Lock the door!

“You’re still not invited to stay.” I smirked.

That didn’t deter him at all. He addressed the girls. “Who wants Uncle Brant to stay?”

“Me! Me!” Gemma shouted.

“You can stay if you learn the real scientific name of a dog. It’s Canis lupus familiaris. Now you say it,” Whitney challenged him.

No way was he saying that right.

Brant easily repeated, “Canis lupus familiaris.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, making Brant laugh. Still, he wasn’t staying.

“That was excellent,” Whitney properly complimented him.

“Well, as good as that was, this is a girls-only party, and I’m sure Uncle Brant is very busy with the case he’s working on.”

“Aww,” Gemma whined. “Can’t he stay? Please,” she begged. “He wants to play with Oscar too.” She squeezed my poor cat.

Brant fluttered his eyes enough to put a southern belle to shame. “I really do want to play with Oscar.”

I gave him the stink eye. “You can play with him another time.” Why did I say that? He was never coming back over here.

Brant leaned toward me. “But I really want to play with him now,” he purred better than Oscar, making my cheeks flush.

I found it hard to formulate a response when he turned on the charm like that. Thankfully, I remembered that he was too hot and cold, and in love with my sister. Total buzzkill. Why, then, was my body aching to reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips? Seriously, I needed professional help.

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