Chapter 12

"Theresa," Paloma hissed after her sister as they walked through the gates of the Crane estate. "This is crazy! Ethan doesn't need you to be his personal Martha Stewart. He has his own mother, his own girlfriend, his own cook, not to mention he has Mama, and she doesn't have to rely on the Pillsbury Dough Boy to make and decorate sugar cookies!"

"Paloma," Theresa stopped mid-stride, aghast. "Take it back. You know every one of these cookies is a Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald original. Ethan's never had cookies like these before."

Shaking her head and tucking her green scarf around her neck to ward off the day's chill, Paloma stalked ahead of her sister, muttering under her breath, "A tube of frozen cookie dough, some icing and colored sprinkles, a pinch of insanity…"

Catching up to Paloma, Theresa grabbed her sister's arm and breathlessly questioned, "Loma, where are you going? The front door's right there."

"To find Papa," Paloma said, tucking her mittened hands into the pockets of her coat. "I'm not getting carted off to Shady Pines WITH you."

Giggling, Theresa rolled her eyes and lifted a hand up to pat her glossy dark curls into place. "You're such a spoilsport, Loma. They're just cookies. It's a friendly gesture."

"That's going to end up having you grounded for a month," Paloma sighed. "Come on, Theresa. You promised Mama…don't you think this is kinda stalker-ish? You've never met the guy, and you're baking him cookies."

"They're just cookies," Theresa whined. "And I just want to see him, Loma. Up close," she pleaded. "I wonder if his eyes are as blue in person." Grabbing Paloma's hand and pulling her along, Theresa bounded up to the front door excitedly. She practically trembled in anticipation as she raised her hand to knock on the door and it was a complete shock when the door was yanked open and she wasn't knocking on wood but SOMEBODY.

"Dios mio!" Paloma cringed, whirling on her heels unable to face the strange boy who'd grabbed her sister's hand before she could rap her fist against his chest again. "I can't look," she mumbled behind her hands. "I can't look."

"W-W-Who are you?" Theresa sputtered in embarrassment.

"Fox Crane," he answered, grabbing the plate of cookies in Theresa's hands before they could topple to the ground, thanks to the state of shock she appeared to be in. "More importantly…who are you?"

Theresa's response came out in a squeak. "Grounded."

So...judging from the amount of hits this fic gets, this is one of my more popular WIPs at the moment, but I have yet to hear from any of you.

;)

You know, feedback is chicken soup for the fanfic writer's soul.

LOL!

I apologize for the corny line, but I really would like to know if you're enjoying the story.

Feedback is super inspirational to me, and it has the added bonus of (most times) making me smile; after the week I've had I sorely need more smiles.

That said, I won't beg.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Thanks so much for reading!