“How did you forget two of the four pumpkins?” I wave my hands over the massive pumpkins that make my kitchen look even smaller than it is.
She shrugs. “The pumpkin patch ran out.”
“This lie is rapidly devolving.” I put my hands on my hips like my mother.
“I’m not lying.” Her eyes dart around the entire kitchen to avoid looking into my eyes.
“They ran out of pumpkins at the beginning of October?” I ask in the driest voice.
“How weird! Must be a shortage.”
That little liar. I never thought I’d see the day where my sister attempts to play my matchmaker.
I look over at Rowan, wondering what he thinks. He doesn’t bother looking at us because he’s too immersed in his phone.
Great. What a help he is.
Ani grabs one of the pumpkins off the counter. “JP and I want to do one together.”
“You don’t say?” I reply dryly. My sister in love is usually adorable and endearing. But right now? It’s oddly inconvenient for me.
JP chooses that exact moment to wrap an arm around my sister and give her a kiss on her forehead.
Ugh. Who am I kidding? They’re still cute.
“Let’s do this!” JP grabs their pumpkin from Ani’s arms and takes it to the dining room where I was supposed to work with him.
I sigh and turn around.
I readjust all the supplies in a row. “You don’t have to do this if you have something better to do.”
He looks up from his phone with knitted brows. “I wouldn’t have shown up if I didn’t want to do this.”
“Why are you here?” I stare at him.
His face remains blank. “Because your sister asked me to be.”
My stomach takes a dive, along with my mood. Stupid girl, thinking he came to spend time with you. Of course he’s here for Ani. He’s her mentor.
“Shouldn’t you still be working?” I probe. Maybe if I remind him of all his responsibilities, he will run out the door after remembering some kind of email he forgot to send.
“It’s a Saturday.”
All I can do is stare at him. “I thought you worked every day.”
“I do.”
“We really need to talk about your work-life balance.”
“It’s easy when my life is my job. No need for a scale.”
I clutch onto the counter while I laugh. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
He looks at me with drawn brows. “Why?”
“Because what’s the point of having so much money when you’ll never have the chance to enjoy it.”
He blinks at me. Has he never considered that before? He might be a sharp guy, but he could use some kind of intervention about his addiction to working.
He shakes his head as if he needed to erase whatever he was thinking from his mind. “If money was no object, what would you do?”
I grin. “The options are endless.”
He raises a brow. “That’s a terrifying sentiment coming from you.”
“Well, for starters, I’d give back to charity.”
He frowns. “We support charities.”
“Only because it’s considered a tax write-off. Have you ever attended a charity event that didn’t include champagne and caviar?”