Molly's Mr. Wrong

by Jeannie Watt

  Molly shook her head. “I have grading.”

  “Suit yourself.” Georgina poured a glass of water, tucked the box of cookies under her arm and headed into the living room. A few seconds later the television came on and Molly pulled the stack of papers she’d pushed aside while writing in her notebook closer. But she didn’t pick up her pen.

  Another reason she had the notebook out was to reinforce the fact that Finn didn’t fit into her plans—not even for a little while. She was so damned tempted by the man. Their discussion in the parking lot after class had left her feeling ridiculously on edge. She liked bantering with him and that was not a good sign.

  Finally she shoved her grading aside and headed out the back door to get some air. The sun had set and it was getting dark outside, but she crossed the backyard to inspect the flower beds that Georgina had prepared with Mike’s help a few days ago. According to the diagram her sister had attached to the refrigerator, there would be daffodils, narcissus, crocus, tulips...hopefully not white ones. Molly pretty much hated white tulips now.

  She wandered closer to the boundary fence, where Mike had suggested they plant pansies and violets next spring. She was looking forward to spring and getting this first semester of school under her belt—hopefully with no professional mishaps. She wanted this job nailed down tight. After that she could work on developing a personal life—with the right kind of guy, of course.

  Mike’s house was dark except for one light in the living room. And Finn’s truck was parked in the driveway. Molly instantly headed back into the house.

  She had grading to do, and worrying about men had taken up too much of her time tonight.

  She’d have to make a note of that in her book.

  * * *

  FINN COULD HAVE taken Buddy and spent the evening in the comfort of his own home. Instead he chose to hang out at Mike’s place and wait for his grandfather to return from his date.

  Curious?

  Totally. And he knew that the window to hear about the date was small. Mike wasn’t a big sharer, but if he caught him right after he got home...well, maybe he’d find out how things went. All things considered, he was glad that Cal and Karl had set Mike up. His grandfather lived a rather lonely existence when he wasn’t at the shop, and dating would be good for him.

  Unless the woman broke his heart. That wouldn’t be good. And that was another reason he stayed at Mike’s house. What if things went wrong?

  “We’ll hang here, just in case,” Finn told the kitten after he’d fed him. He checked out his grandfather’s DVD collection and then he and Buddy settled in for yet another viewing of Bullitt, one of his favorite old movies.

  “Watch this,” Finn murmured as Steve McQueen’s car bottomed out on a San Francisco hill, then realized he was talking to a sleeping cat.

  Maybe Mike wasn’t the only one spending too much time alone.

  His life had changed so radically since returning stateside. He’d barely contacted his old friends, and didn’t feel his former need to socialize most nights of the week.

  Was he getting boring?

  Did it matter?

  The soft sound of whistling brought his head up after he’d ejected the DVD. Mike rattled his keys, then unlocked the door. The whistling stopped abruptly when he saw Finn still there and the kitten sound asleep on one of the sofa cushions.

  “You didn’t go home?”

  Finn gave a casual shrug and stuck his hands in his back pockets, like he used to do when he and Mike had serious conversations—conversations that often involved Finn learning some important lesson in life, such as “don’t break windows in vacant houses” and things like that.

  “I watched Bullitt.”

  “I see.” Mike dropped his keys in the bowl near the door and shrugged out of his jacket.

  “So...how was it?”

  The look Mike gave him was not what he’d expected. Instead of withdrawing, as Finn had expected, so that he had to dig details out of him, Mike looked as if he was about to go on the offensive.

  “Elaine is an interesting woman.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “She taught for a long time. Twenty-five years.”

  “Cool.”

  Mike’s mouth shifted a little bit sideways. “She was your science teacher in high school.”

  “What?” Finn pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Really? Huh. Small world.”

  “It is the Eagle Valley,” Mike said drily. He walked into the kitchen and started the faucet.

  Finn followed, waiting until Mike had finished with his drink before asking, “What’s her last name?” He’d had several female science teachers over the years, but one...

  “Fitch.”

  Ms. Fitch? The meanest freshman teacher in the high school? Couldn’t be.

  One look at Mike told him that it be.

  “Seems you weren’t the best student.”

  “I got okay grades.” Probably fake grades, but okay on paper.

  “And your deportment?”

  Heat started to work its way up his neck. He and his friends had been typical asshole jocks.

  “She was our freshman science teacher,” he said as if that explained everything, and, actually, it did. Fourteen-year-olds were brutal creatures. “I thought she moved away.”

  “Nope. Just stopped teaching. She said that there gets to be a point where a person gets tired, and that’s the time to quit. I experienced the same thing at the feed store.”

  So had he—just a whole lot sooner than Mike had.

  “I, uh—” Finn rubbed a hand over the back of his neck “—feel like the roosters have come home to roost.” Sixteen years later. Was high school never going to stop haunting him?

  “She didn’t say anything bad about you.”

  “Did she say anything good?”

  “Nope.” Mike opened the fridge door and then backed out of the fridge carrying the remainders of a ham.

  “I thought you went to dinner.” And he wasn’t yet certain how the coffee date had turned into dinner, but it had.

  “She wanted to go to this new rabbit food place.”

  “Veganomics?” The bar patrons were taking bets at McElroy’s as to whether a strict vegan restaurant would survive in the Eagle Valley.

  “That’s the place. We had salads. Raw stuff.” Mike wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t mind the tofu as much as I thought I would, though.” He looked back at Finn before pulling a knife out of the block. “It takes on the flavor of whatever it’s in.”

  “Good to know. So are you going out with her again?”

  “Probably. I told her she needed a steak. We’re thinking about next weekend.” When he caught the bemused expression on Finn’s face, he said, “Nothing wrong with liking salads better than meat and vice versa. There are more important things to consider.”

  Finn didn’t bother telling his grandfather that it wasn’t the carnivore vs. herbivore thing that surprised him—it was the second date. With Ms. Fitch.

  Mike carved several pieces of ham off the bone and set them on a plate, glancing up to silently ask Finn if he wanted to partake. Finn shook his head.

  “I’m thinking of having her over here. You should come. Say hello.”

  “Yeah,” Finn said on a breath. “Maybe.” He glanced at the clock. “I’m going to run. Glad your date went well.”

  “Leave Buddy.” Mike pulled out a chair and sat at the table, raising a hand in farewell.

  “I will. See you tomorrow.” He stopped to stroke the sleeping kitten’s striped belly, then stepped out into the crisp night air.

  Ms. Fitch. Wow.

  Karma, it seemed, was really intent on chewing his ass.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE NEXT DAY, Finn was still getting
his ass chewed, but it wasn’t by karma. It was by Basic English Comp. It wasn’t that he was incapable of understanding what he had to do—he’d come to terms with the fear—it was that he didn’t know how to do it. And that in turn made him doubt his goals. Was he going to be able to power through a degree with minimal writing skills?

  After spending the better part of two hours in the warehouse tackling essay organization exercises and then trying to apply them to his own assignment, he decided that he needed to see the master. He told himself it was solely because he needed help with his English—not because he was recalling little things about Molly that kind of turned him on. She’d drop him off and then go get laid. Right.

  She seemed surprised to see him when he knocked on her door, and even though it wasn’t her office hours, she waved him in.

  “Sorry I’m not here during the official time. I have to close the store tonight, so I took a chance that you could squeeze me in.”

  And was it his imagination, or had her expression shifted when he said “squeeze me in”? He needed to get a grip here. He was going all schoolboy lustful. It didn’t help that Molly’s cheeks seemed pinker than usual. Was it possible that her thoughts were mirroring his?

  “I don’t see a kitten...”

  Finn smiled in spite of himself. “Buddy is with his other dad.”

  “Ah. What’s going on?” she asked, motioning for him to sit across from her. The desk served as a nice big barrier and Molly was staying on her side of it.

  “Take a guess.”

  “Organization.”

  “Got it in one. I was wondering if you have any...I don’t know...tricks or anything to help me wrangle this beast? My thoughts don’t come out in neat categories.”

  “You’re not alone there.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Have you tried the note card approach?”

  She seemed to think that he knew what she was referring to. He did not. “What is that?” She pressed her lips together and he said, “Let me guess...this is a technique I should have learned in high school...or earlier.”

  “Good possibility.”

  “I kind of marched to my own drummer back then. You know...when I passed my classes because I was breathing.”

  “I would hope you had to do more than breathe,” Molly said.

  “I handed in all my work.”

  “There you go.”

  He leaned back in the chair, enjoying the way rising color was brightening her cheeks, even as she kept her gaze direct and no-nonsense. “Tell me about this method that I blew off years ago.”

  “You write down one idea at a time on note cards, then arrange them according to categories. You can use something as simple as Who, What, Why, Where, When. Get some three-by-five note cards and write down one sentence on each one. Then organize and write an outline.”

  “Huh.” He gave her a look. “I kind of remember something like this from junior high. I believe I instantly disregarded and fired off a paper from the hip.”

  “I imagine it was a good one, too.”

  He smiled at her wry retort. “I’ll give this method a go—for real, this time. Thanks.”

  He got to his feet, but before he could head to the door, Molly said, “You know, if your brain isn’t wired to learn in the way you’re being taught, there’s a good chance you’re going to tune out.”

  Finn gave a slow nod. “That could explain a lot.” As could total lack of interest in anything that wasn’t sports.

  Molly’s mouth quirked up at one corner as she idly tapped her pencil on her desk. “That’s why dyslexic kids sometimes become discipline problems.”

  “I was an angel.”

  She smiled at his deadpan reply. “Then someone was spreading a lot of lies about you.”

  “I was a victim of circumstances.”

  “You were a hellion.”

  “Whom you apparently admired.”

  Her color was rising again, but she didn’t back down. “I was young.”

  “So was I.”

  There was a knock on the door and they both turned to see a kid with an imperious expression peering at them through the glass as if he expected Molly to instantly let him in and kick Finn out.

  Molly’s smile became fixed as she stared at the door.

  “I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for the strategy.”

  Before Finn could move, the kid knocked again, loudly enough that the sound echoed through the room. Molly frowned and got to her feet, quickly moving around her desk to open the door. “Jonas, I have another student here.”

  “And I have a class in ten minutes. I want to discuss my latest grade.”

  “My office hours are between four and five. You know that. I’m happy to see drop-ins, but you have to understand that when you drop in there’s a good chance I have another commitment. Like I have right now.”

  “I would like an appointment.” The kid spoke as if he were royalty, and Finn’s neck muscles started to tighten.

  “Fine. Tomorrow at four o’clock.”

  Molly sent Finn a quick look edged with something that looked like murder, then stepped out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind her. As much as he would have loved to listen at the door, Finn kept his seat. He heard the sound of arguing, one raised voice, cold, just a little whiny, and then a few seconds later, Molly came back into the room.

  “Settled?”

  “For now. He thinks he owns my time.” Molly grimaced. “He is entitled, with a capital E.”

  “Huh. I thought entitled was spelled with an I.”

  “All right,” Molly said, laughter lighting her eyes. “He’s entitled with a capital I.”

  * * *

  MOLLY DID NOT WANT to be charmed by Finn. He reminded her too much of Blake.

  No. That wasn’t it.

  She stopped digging through the box of sweaters and fleeces to consider for a moment.

  He did remind her of Blake in some ways, but what bothered her was that she was reacting to him the way she’d reacted to Blake before she knew the truth about him. That was where the trouble lay.

  Fortunately, the one thing she could control in life was her reactions.

  “Did you find it?” Georgina yelled from her bedroom.

  Molly pulled a thick red fleece from the bottom of the storage box. “I have a red one. I don’t see a navy.”

  “That will do,” Georgina said as she appeared in the doorway. She reached for the fleece and Molly tossed it to her.

  “That’s all you need? You’re set for your hike tomorrow?” Her sister was seeing a lot of Chase, and while Molly had a few reservations, she kept them to herself. Georgina was a smart girl, and her older sister was a walking cautionary tale.

  Georgina slung the fleece over her shoulder and pulled the check-marked list Chase had given her out of one pocket and a plastic disposable rain poncho from the other. “What else could I need?”

  Molly had to admit that the kid was prepared. Even though it was supposed to be a two-to three-hour hike, he’d made certain that Georgina was dressed for all eventualities, from heat wave to snow.

  “If I like hiking, I’ll invest in some stuff.” Georgina shoved the list and poncho back into her jacket pockets.

  “I truly doubt I’ll ever use my hiking boots again.”

  “Then I’ll feel free to sweat in them.” Georgina grinned at her and disappeared down the hall. “I’m setting my alarm for five o’clock,” she called back. “Do you want me to wake you?”

  “No! Tiptoe when you get up.”

  “In hiking boots?”

  “Do your best.”

  Molly put the sweatshirts and jackets back into the storage box and replaced the lid. The red fleece she’d just handed off to her
sister had belonged to Blake. She had no idea how it’d escaped the post-breakup purge, but it had and now it would be useful—as long as Georgina didn’t discover who it’d belonged to. If she did, she might just light it on fire.

  The protective-loyal gene ran strong in their family. Blake had hurt her sister, therefore Blake was the devil.

  But honestly, just as she’d recently noted in her notebook, there’d been some good to their relationship. Blake had taught her that risk-taking had rewards as well as consequences, and sometimes it was better to throw caution to the wind and feel truly alive than to sit at home, where it was safe. All he asked in return was that she manage his life. Handle the day-to-day stuff. Be there when he came home from the road. Be his partner and his problem-solver.

  Where she’d messed up was in believing that they had the same ideas on finance and fidelity. They did not.

  Not even close.

  The result had been humiliating. Apparently everyone in Blake’s sphere had known about the other women. Everyone. And when she’d found out, she’d felt so duped. So stupid.

  So very angry.

  But thanks to the anger, she’d grown a backbone.

  The bottom line was that she didn’t mind being charmed, but she wanted to feel...safe...in the process. In control. She was looking for the antithesis of Blake—someone sedate and trustworthy and predictable. She was definitely not getting deeply involved with someone she didn’t know inside and out, someone she wasn’t positively certain she could trust.

  But would she get minorly involved?

  That was the question niggling at her. The question she shoved aside as she brewed tea and dived into her grading. Sometimes it was simply better not to think too much.

  * * *

  GEORGINA WAS LONG GONE by the time Molly got out of bed the next morning. Chase had brought a map of the area where they planned to hike, and Georgina had left it on the kitchen table with a note telling her to expect them back in mid-to late afternoon.

  And she’d made coffee. Molly gratefully poured a cup from the carafe and hugged it with both hands as she sat at the table. She’d stayed up late finishing her grading, so the day stretched ahead of her. There was so much she could be doing around the house that she really wasn’t certain where to start.