Page 66 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

Whitney sort of offered help. Not really, but at least I wasn’t thinking of kissing him anymore.

“My mommy and daddy said that you two should just do it and get it over with. What do they think you should do?” she asked so innocently.

I was on fire. Like a blazing four-alarm fire. I had no idea how to respond, and Brant didn’t help the situation.

“I think Aunt Kinsley would like to answer that question.” He gave me an impish grin.

I nudged him with my elbow, and he chuckled, not acting like he was embarrassed at all that my sister and her husband thought we should have sex. I cleared my throat and faced an expectant Whitney. “Um . . . I think they meant we should bake cookies together. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what they meant.” It was the best I could come up with on the fly. I was going to have words with Ariana and Jonah tomorrow. Like, lots of words.

“Yay! More cookies!” Gemma shouted.

“Are you going to make cookies together?” Whitney asked ever so seriously.

“No,” I said quickly.

“Why don’t you want to make cookies with Uncle Brant?” Gemma sounded so affronted on his behalf.

“Yeah, why don’t you want to?” Brant sounded faux wounded.

I couldn’t believe he was playing along with this. He was in love with my sister, for crying out loud. I glared at him. “I don’t think I have the right stuff to make the kind of cookies Uncle Brant likes.”

Brant obviously wasn’t picking up on the I-need-to-loathe-you vibes I was trying to convey. Instead, he slowly perused me from head to toe in my pink polka-dotted pj’s. “On the contrary, you have all the right ingredients.”

Did he mean what I thought he meant, or was he just playing along? Regardless, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. Don’t fall for his seductive words. Please, Kinsley, you can’t afford to. He doesn’t really want you. You’re the consolation prize.

Whitney, taking my hand, helped force some air back into my lungs. “I think you should make cookies together. It’s the nice thing to do.”

“I agree,” Brant crooned. “Very nice.”

Gemma clapped her hands. “I want chocolate chip cookies.”

This had gotten way out of hand and demonstrated why there were no boys allowed. “Girls, why don’t you go back into the fort to watch the movie. I need to talk to Uncle Brant for a minute in the kitchen.”

“Okay. Make good cookies.” Gemma headed for the fort, taking poor Oscar along with her.

Under any other circumstance, I would have laughed because she had no idea how that could be taken, given what cookies really meant in this situation. Honestly though, I wanted to cry. Because, well, I wanted to bake lots of cookies with Brant, but that wasn’t ever happening. I was on a cookie-free diet, especially with him.

“I think my mommy and daddy will be glad that you are finally making cookies together.” Whitney smiled at me. “They said you will be a lot happier now. Good job.” She took off with her dog.

Okay, so that did make me snicker, but I stifled it when Brant flashed me his debonair smile.

“I’m ready to make cookies now.” He wagged his brows.

I grabbed his hand. “We need to talk.” I marched us toward the kitchen. I realized on the way there what a stupid idea it was to hold his hand. It felt too right when his fingers curled around mine so naturally, like his hand was meant to hold mine for the rest of our lives. But I knew that couldn’t be true. That’s why as soon as we were in the kitchen, I yanked away from him in an overdramatic fashion. That wiped the smile off his face.

He tilted his head. “You’re upset with me?”

Yes! Where did I even begin to tell him how upset I was with him? I stepped as close to him as I could while still managing to have some semblance of equilibrium. If I could have shouted at him, I would have, but I didn’t want the girls to hear me. Unfortunately, I was near enough to be assaulted by his clean dance-in-the-rain scent and teased by his minty breath. I closed my eyes and held my breath for a second, trying to calm myself before I did something ridiculous and accosted him. I refused to ever throw myself at him again.

With a long, slow breath out, I opened my eyes to find him thoughtfully looking at me. As sweet as he appeared to be, this was it. The end of the line. “Brant, I have no idea why you came over here tonight,” I whispered. “But it isn’t fair to me. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with you. And I can’t stand it. You don’t get to act all flirty, pretending you want to ‘bake cookies’ with me, when most of the time you act as if I don’t exist,” my voice hitched.

---