Back in the Burbs
Page 31
Rachel liked Dakota. She liked Gavin, too. It wasn’t his fault they’d based their marriage on one night of mediocre passion that led to their boys.
It wasn’t hers, either.
It just…was.
Molly was still making gagging faces in between cookie bites. She didn’t understand this part of things.
Gavin and Rachel had tried. Tried-ish.
But, despite his mother’s proclivity to shoving them together, guilting them together, and offering to pay Rachel to ensure they stayed together, their marriage was as dull as their kitchen knives.
Let’s just say, if their marriage were an entrée, it had no seasoning at all.
No one really understood what had happened on that one night eight years ago that had changed their lives. The night she hand-selected Gavin from a group of guys for her first ever supposed-to-be one-night stand.
The evening had resulted in one of them climaxing. (Spoiler alert, it wasn’t Rachel.) He’d called her a few times after, but she hadn’t returned his calls because that would’ve totally ruined the point of having a one-night-only curtain call.
Then—and oh boy, was it a big then—were the words, “Congrats, it’s twins.”
That part did not suck, because Rachel loved the hell out of her boys.
Besides the children, she and Gavin had shared a marriage that lasted a few months before they both came to their senses and recognized they made much better co-parenting friends and partners than co-parenting spouses who slept across the hall, because he snored like a freaking freight train on fire and she, so he told her, hogged all the blankets.
They were excellent…friends. Friends who had two kids together and eventually lived separate lives because it was just more comfortable for everyone.
“What did they want?” Molly asked, the dislike of Gavin apparent in her tone.
“Long story.” Rachel grabbed the keys on her way to the door. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Where Rachel and Gavin got along fine, he and Molly despised each other. Which Rachel didn’t understand.
“He’s not coming to the game,” Molly correctly guessed.
Phone stuffed into her pocket, Rachel flicked on the slow cooker so dinner would be ready when they arrived home. She tossed the extra cookie in a zip-top bag so it would be safe in her purse—once her boys discovered she kept tampons in the interior pocket, they avoided the thing at all costs.
“I guess that means Travis will attend instead,” Molly mused.
She had been working to convince Rachel to practice her flirting skills with Travis Frank for the past four months.
The idea was so far beyond ridiculous, so off the beaten path that it didn’t even show up on Google Maps.
But flirting was Molly’s job, so she looked for opportunities everywhere. Rachel didn’t blame her because Molly literally taught the basics of dating and had to keep her skills sharp for her clients. She used her inability to take no for an answer and her MyTube channel to teach others the intricacies.
“Dave might come,” Rachel said, hoping it was Dave who would attend. Gavin had two brothers. She got along fabulously with Dave. Not so much with Travis.
For a lengthy list of reasons substantially longer than Molly’s meddling.
“It’ll be Travis,” Molly said, a small, knowing smile teasing the edges of her hot-pink-painted lips.
“Probably.” It usually was Travis who filled in when Gavin couldn’t make it. Rachel started the mental prep work for dealing with him. “Do not start up about him again.”
Molly bit at her bottom lip, apparently refusing to respond.
Rachel could literally feel her matchmaking friend brewing an idea to push Rachel and Travis together. Last time he’d been to a game, Molly manipulated them into sitting thigh-to-thigh on the bleachers. The time before that? Her car broke down and she asked Travis to drive them home. Then Molly caught a ride with the umpire’s wife instead.
Oh, to be sure, Molly didn’t believe Rachel and Travis had any business being together. She just wanted to piss off Gavin.
It was her way.
“I like Travis.” Molly bit at her bottom lip, saying the words with the caution of one merging onto a road littered with construction. “I like it when he comes to the games.”
When Gavin couldn’t make a game, one of his immediate family members always showed up to—and she was quoting him here—“represent the family.”
Like they were mafiosos or something.
They weren’t.
They were, however, loaded beyond belief because Great-Meemaw Frank had created the first Puffle Yum and sold the shit out of the toaster tarts.
Rachel paused, setting the purse strap onto her shoulder. “Travis is a fantastic uncle.”
She made it a point to enunciate that last word. Because any idea of flirting with Travis or doing anything beyond friendly chatter with him was an absolute nopers.
“Is that new?” Molly gestured to Rachel’s bag. She may have been a black belt in flirting, but her distraction techniques could use some work.
Rachel knew how Molly operated and, in her mind, as long as she didn’t verbally commit, she would weasel her way out of an implied agreement later.
“I grabbed it at the Coach outlet in Loveland last week,” Rachel said. The rose-colored over-the-shoulder bag was the last on the shelf, and Rachel had fallen in deep lust with it on first sight.
“I think I need at least two of these,” Molly mumbled, examining the stitching.
“Too bad, I got the last one.” Rachel grinned, nabbing the bag away with a smirk.
Molly shook her head. “There are always more online.”
“Dinner’s cooking, I have my keys, shoes, purse, go bag, sunglasses, boys are going straight to the field after school.” Rachel inventoried everything she needed for the game.
“You ready now?” Molly asked.
“Let’s go.” Rachel dropped her sunglasses into her bag and held the front door for her friend.
This week was Molly’s turn to drive.
Which meant Molly would be busy driving the vehicle and Rachel would spend the thirty-minute drive to the baseball field calling Cassie back and then chatting about everything but her least favorite Frank brother. So perhaps, just perhaps, Molly would leave it alone.
Maybe.
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