The Little House of Paints

Chapter 6

While waiting for Miller to arrive I decided to make sugar cookies. I need something to keep me busy until he gets here because if I sit down on the couch, I am bound to pass out and let's be real, a cookie never hurt anyone.

When I was younger my mom would make me cookies every week. While my dad was an artist, my mom was a baker. Her dream was to open up her own bakery. She used to always make my dad decorate the cookies, saying that his artistic ability was one of the things about him that she fell in love with.

He would make all kinds of designs on the cookies. It was kind of like an assembly line in our kitchen every week. Mom would bake the cookies, Dad would decorate them, and I would help to package them. Since, at the time we couldn't afford buying a whole bakery, we would sell the cookies out of the kitchen window. It was kind of like a grown-up lemonade stand.

I am broken out of my revelry by the oven going off signaling that it is preheated. I look down at my completed dough before taking a little piece off and popping it into my mouth. A good baker always ate a little piece of the dough for good luck. Or at least that is what my mom said.

Smiling, I start rolling out the dough. When it is a flat odd long circular shape, I grab for a knife. While my mom was always very particular about making all of her baked goods from scratch, my dad always wanted to free-hand them. The artist in him never truly has been able to buy into any kind of commercialized art product. Thus, we have no cookie cutters in the house.

I cut out pretty generic shapes because though my dad is quite skilled in cookie cutting, the trait was not passed down to me. So, for now I am limited to triangles, circles, and hearts. After putting all the cutouts onto the baking sheet, I stick them into the oven and start a timer for twelve minutes. Next, I clean up the mess that I have made of the kitchen. My dad's clean freakiness is yet another one of his traits that has not been passed onto me. If he saw all the flour that is stuck on his counter right now, he would probably get out his shop vac and magnifying glass to find every speck. Me, I just take a wet paper towel and wipe it up.

In the middle of wiping up my flour mess, the doorbell rings signaling Miller's arrival. Looking at the oven, the cookies still have about a minute left, so they will probably be ready to be taken out by the time he actually gets inside. Quickly wiping my hands of the excess flour, I go to the front door. As I open the door, I am greeted by a frazzled detective. The investigation must be getting intense, if even his confident self is starting to show signs of wear and tear.

Looking at the way he is dressed you would never be able to tell that he is anything, but composed. He is in a pair of slacks, a button down, and a peacoat, business casual type of clothing. His face, however, looks like he is on the verge of a psychotic break.

Don't get me wrong, he is still a very attractive man, but one of the most attractive things about him was how he carries himself. When he walks into a room, he commands attention, but now it seems like he just wants to hide in the corner, away from everyone. Opening the door a little wider, I wave him in. Right on cue, the timer goes off.

Closing the door, I leave Miller in the living room while going to take the cookies out. After placing the second tray of cookies on the counter, I join him back in the living room. He is still standing in the entryway but seems to be a little more relaxed than a couple of minutes ago. In the time that I was in the kitchen he undid a few of his shirt buttons, revealing more of his clear golden skin, and removed his coat and shoes. The look of exhaustion, however, has not left his face as he stares down at his phone. Sensing me looking at him, he smiles at me.

"So, Kendahl, what smells so good?" He makes an exaggerated whiffing motion. "Is it a cake? No no, definitely not. Let me think. Is it some kind of cookie?" He asks with raised eyebrows.

"Like I would put the effort into making you a whole cake." I reply, while plopping down on the couch and turning on the tv. The first thing to come on is the news with an update on the serial killer search. Since Miller seems like he is finally loosening up, I quickly change it. One channel up from the news brings us to some kind of competition show. A comedian is now gracing the television scene. After about five minutes, it becomes pretty apparent that this guy isn't a professional. I hit the information button on the remote and learn that this show is called ARE YOU FUNNY? and they are looking for America's next best stand up comedian.

Having been distracted by reading the description of this show, I hadn't realized that Miller had also sat down on the couch. His arm is currently on the back and by the sound of his rumbling laughter he is enjoying the show.

I am about to go check whether or not the cookies have cooled enough for me to start on the frosting, when my actions are stilled by Miller saying, "Come on, let's just watch this episode first. Please." I look at him to see his best attempt at puppy dog eyes staring back at me.

Laughing I sit back on the couch. It wasn't until I tried to get up a couple hours later after falling asleep, that I realized Miller had wrapped his arm around my shoulders and is holding me by his side.