by Jeannie Watt
She stopped a good three feet away from him, next to the big truck. Something rustled in the engine block and she jumped.
“Damned mice.” Finn came closer, peered down into the engine.
“Maybe Buddy needs to take up residence.”
“I left him with Mike full-time. While he...deals.”
Again that note in his voice. Worry.
“How’s he doing? Mike, I mean.”
“He’s...not himself.”
A silence fell between them and Molly finally asked, “Is that why you called?”
Finn nodded. “I stopped by his place tonight and he essentially kicked me out. Kicked all of us out. He wants to be alone. I thought...maybe you and Georgina could keep an eye on him from a distance. Make sure lights come on when they should and stuff.”
“You know we will.”
Finn needed someone close by to keep an eye on his grandfather, but Molly knew for a fact that wasn’t the only reason he’d called. Intuition, maybe...or perhaps the way he was looking at her.
“Jolie thinks it’s the best thing, and she’s been through this stuff before, but Mike’s been through it twice. He’s afraid it’s number three.”
“You can’t grieve for him, Finn. He has to do it himself.”
Finn blinked at her. “We’re fine letting him grieve, but he needs to eat.”
“And maybe for a day or two he needs time alone to come to grips with this situation. He won’t die of starvation and I bet that he does eat.”
“Maybe...”
“We all want to ease the pain of those we love. When Georgina had her first big breakup, I wanted her to stop hurting now, because seeing her hurt, hurt me.”
“So you’re siding with Mike. Telling us to back off.”
“For now. You can change tactics after a day or two if necessary.”
Finn picked up his hammer, weighed it in his hand, then set it back down again. “I guess that makes sense. I’m just so damned worried about the guy.”
“I get it, Finn. I totally do.”
Silence fell and then he gave her a sideways look. “Want to do some metal work while you’re here? Like last time?”
“Last time we had an argument.”
He quirked an eyebrow up. “We also figured some stuff out.”
“True.”
More silence. He shifted his weight, then met her gaze. “So where are we now, Molly? What happens next?” His mouth tightened briefly, before he asked, “Do we talk some more?”
The way he was looking at her made his meaning crystal clear.
D-day.
“I...”
She could tell him, yes, she wanted to talk. Or she could turn and walk out the door. Run to safety.
Instead she reached out to lightly touch the front of his shirt, stroke her fingers over the soft gray cotton. His hard muscles tensed beneath her touch. She lifted her chin, met his eyes. “What if I don’t want to talk just yet?”
“What would you like to do?”
And suddenly she felt very calm. In control. “I would like to find out if you’re as good in person as you are in my dreams.”
She felt his heart do a double beat beneath her palm. His voice was rough when he said, “I’m fairly positive that I’m better.”
“Yeah?” she asked softly. “Prove it.”
She felt his heart do an odd double beat and then his mouth came down on hers, the first touch exploding into something hot and demanding.
Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer, molding her body against his long frame. The kiss pulled her in, obliterated her sense of up and down, right and wrong. All that mattered in her world for this one moment was the man whose mouth was ravaging hers, demanding a reaction that she was more than willing to give.
She pushed her hands up along his face, over the light scruff on his cheeks, answering his demands, pressing her body against his.
Molly, who overthought everything, did herself a favor and stopped thinking. She reached for the bottom of his T-shirt, dragged it up over his head and tossed it on the bench behind her. He returned the favor, his gaze pausing on the swell of her breasts, then moving on down to the jeweled bar in her navel.
“This,” he said in low voice, “surprises me.”
“Wait until you see my other one.”
His eyes went wide and she laughed, pulling his mouth back to hers for a long kiss. “Kidding,” she said softly. “This is my sole sign of rebellion.”
“I approve,” he murmured before undoing her jeans and pushing them down her thighs. Her panties followed, and she kicked out of them as he reached behind her to clear the bench with his arm, then took hold of her waist and lifted her butt onto the cool metal. Molly didn’t think it would be cool for long.
Finn leaned back, took a long look at her, his heated gaze traveling over her. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered. “Perfect.”
Molly liked being perfect, and she liked seeing his erection straining against his jeans. She nodded toward it.
Finn gave a short laugh at her silent directive, then followed orders, the hard length of him springing free as he shoved his jeans down. He was gorgeous, and Molly was glad she was sitting because her legs were getting wobbly.
He leaned in as he smoothly undid her bra, their last remaining barrier, then gave her breasts the attention they deserved, first with his hands and then with his mouth. Molly gasped. Arched. His tongue trailed lower and he played with the jewelry that so fascinated him—her freedom-from-Blake jewelry—and then continued lower as she opened her thighs for him.
Molly arched again, against his mouth, gasping as he hit the spot. She almost came but instead scooted backward.
“First time you’re in me.”
He gave her a look, then went to his pants, dug around in his wallet and came back with a condom. Once sheathed, he took hold of her hips and pulled her forward until he was pressed firmly against her. Molly wrapped her legs around him and slowly slid herself forward on the smooth metal bench until they were fully joined.
Perfection.
Her mouth opened in a silent “oh” as he started to move. Slowly, oh so slowly, rocking against her, filling her. It felt so ridiculously good that Molly almost couldn’t breathe...and then she could as he changed things up, started moving faster. Her breath came in short gasps as his rhythm increased, and all she could do was hang on until her body exploded against him. She saw the gleam of pure male satisfaction before he finished, plunging deeply, holding her body tightly against his until he relaxed and his head came to rest against her shoulder.
She closed her eyes, stroked her hands over his damp skin, his hair, then hugged him to her.
Finally he lifted his head and smiled at her.
“Better than dream guy?”
She laughed and took his chin in her hand. “Much.”
He helped her off the bench and to her amusement handed her a couple of shop towels. “Always prepared,” he murmured.
They got dressed without speaking, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. Molly picked up the hammer that Finn had set aside before they made love and gave the sheet metal sitting there a tap. “There. My mission is accomplished.” She smiled at him. “I did come to beat metal.”
“Right.”
He took her by the hand and led her over to a vinyl sofa beneath the midcentury starburst wall clock that Molly estimated was worth a lot more money than Finn probably realized.
“Want a beer?”
There was a small fridge next to the sofa. “No thanks. For now.” That was when Molly noticed the television mounted on the far wall, up high, above the door. “This truly is a man cave of extraordinary proportions.”
“I prefer to call it a man arena.”<
br />
Molly smiled, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Maybe she could just sit here with Finn, shut out the world. Breathe in the scents of grease, oil... Finn. Yes. That would be nice.
Warm fingers started moving up her thigh.
“I have a hammer,” she said without bothering to open her eyes.
“So do I.”
Her eyes came open at that and he laughed, the sound low and sensual. “Thought that might get your attention.”
“It certainly did before.”
He took hold of her hand then. “What’s going on, Molly? Why couldn’t you meet me at McElroy’s?”
“I’m...under scrutiny.”
He shifted so that he could look at her while still holding her hand. “What does that mean?”
“Jonas has brought in the big guns.”
Finn blinked at her. “You don’t mean...”
“Yep. His parents. They filed a complaint against me. I have to defend my grading, which I’m fully prepared to do.”
She gave him another sideways look as his fingers tightened on hers. He knew there was more, so she didn’t hedge. What was the point? She’d come to talk to him and she’d talk. Even if it wasn’t the most comfortable topic ever. “I’ve been rude to him—”
“Holy—”
“And I’m in an amorous relationship with a student, which makes Jonas uncomfortable.”
Finn let go of her hand and shifted in his seat so that he could see her face. “Me?”
“Well, it’s not Denny.” She bit her lip. “We were seen in McElroy’s—and even though there’s no law about me going to bars, there is public perception and you are my student.”
Finn stared at her. “What now?”
“Now I walk the straight and narrow and wait for this to die down.”
“Should I drop your class?”
“No.” She gave a small sniff. “Besides losing your money and your credit, it makes us look guilty.”
Finn settled back in his seat. “We are guilty.” He took her hand again, laced his fingers through hers.
“I feel better because of it,” she admitted.
“For how long?”
“Meaning do I have regrets?” She smiled a little. “More like concern for the future.”
“I won’t screw with your future, Molly.”
“If I thought you would, I wouldn’t be here.”
“So...you’re saying you trust me?”
She turned her head to look at him, her cheek pressed against the vinyl of the sofa. How did she tell him that she trusted him to a point, just as she trusted herself to a point? As long as they had clear sight of the boundaries of their relationship, she could let herself go. Trust him within that parameter.
Because the truth was, she fully expected to get burned again. Guys like Finn, guys like Blake, guys who didn’t know what they wanted in life, or couldn’t pin down what they needed...they’d move on as they searched. Molly was staying put. But the difference between this relationship and the last was that she knew what to expect. Forewarned was forearmed.
She reached out to touch Finn’s face, to trail her fingers down the scruff on his cheeks, loving the feel. Not yet ready to give it up. “I’ll be here for you, and you can be here for me...but I’m not putting any kind of label on what we have.”
She hadn’t answered his question and she could see that he was fully aware of that fact.
“I won’t hurt you, Molly.”
Not on purpose, anyway.
“Can we leave things status quo, while I figure a few things out?”
She felt him withdraw, but made herself stay strong. She would be there for him. At this point she might fight tigers for him. But she wouldn’t put herself into a position where her world crumbled when he moved on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GEORGINA SPENT THE weekend hiking and camping with Chase, leaving Molly home alone, catching up on her grading and avoiding any hint of public scandal that Jonas’s parents might pick up on and use to put the screws to her. It was nice to be alone when she had so much to do, but she was becoming concerned about the amount of time Georgina was spending with her beau, not that she had any reason to address the issue other than the fact that Chase came from a questionable background. Honestly, though, she would have been concerned regardless. Her sister was an adult, but she was also only nineteen—not that much younger than Molly had been when she’d begun to embark on the biggest mistake of her life.
Molly had told Finn that Mike needed to deal with his own issues in his own way, and now she needed to listen to her own advice—but how did one stop feeling protective of their little sister?
One did not.
So one attempted to focus on other matters.
Making love to Finn sprang to mind a number of times. He’d called on Friday to touch base and ask her if everything looked normal at Mike’s house and on Saturday he’d been at Mike’s, but he didn’t make his way over to her house. She didn’t know if he was giving her space, or if he was being careful of not giving the appearance that she was involved with him.
She would have liked to see him. Touch him. Wrap herself around him.
This was new territory for Molly. When she’d hooked up with Blake, she’d practically been a pseudo-wife from day one. She’d loved being needed. Loved the perks of a close relationship, disregarded the part about seeing to her own needs. Caring for Blake was her need. If she did that, she felt great.
And he felt up someone else.
Jerk.
Molly forced herself to focus on her prep work. On Monday she had the meeting—the one where she defended her grades—and she wanted everything to go smoothly that morning so that she could focus on exonerating herself.
Jonas had bullied his way through the system for too long, and he needed some comeuppance. For his own good and the good of those he’d have to deal with in the future. Molly was all about giving it to him.
Her fingers stilled on the keyboard. How would she have reacted to this situation two or three years ago—while she’d been Blake’s caretaker?
Would she have rolled over? Fought?
She hadn’t been a fighter then. Hadn’t really taken control of her own existence. She coexisted, until Blake had forced her to become a solo act with his egregious behavior. She was stronger now. In control.
Except when she wasn’t—like while making love to Finn.
But what a great way to lose control.
As Sunday passed, Molly thought less about Finn and more about her future. Yes, she was alone and probably overthinking, but she had a difficult time living with unfinished business and she wanted the meeting over, conclusions drawn. She wanted to get on with her professional life, which was essentially her anchor.
Molly needed that anchor.
On Monday morning she dressed carefully in a navy suit with a pin-striped blouse. An outfit that screamed “I’m a professional, good at what I do. Don’t question me.”
It also shouted “boring” with its at-the-knee skirt and matched jacket.
Good. Boring was dependable. Boring was trustworthy.
Trust me...your son is behaving like an entitled egomaniac.
Words she could not say.
* * *
IT WAS THE DAY of Molly’s big meeting and Finn hoped that she’d get hold of him afterward, tell him how it went. They had class that night, but for the rest of the semester, he was going to be just another student. He probably wouldn’t stop by office hours, either. Molly’s job was important to her and more than that, it was what kept her in the Eagle Valley, and Finn wanted her in the valley. He wanted a shot at helping her move past guy-mess.
She hadn’t been able to tell him that she trusted him, but she had to trust him to a
point or she wouldn’t have made love to him. Molly wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of person, and, funny thing, neither was he anymore.
It felt good to admit that.
Now if he could just figure out what to do with his life. Try to muscle through the teaching degree? Try something else? Now that Jolie was back at the store part-time, they needed him even less. Chase was beginning to fill his hours and Finn knew he needed to find a job that made him feel that he was actually doing something.
He’d thought about Molly’s suggestion to try the metal-art thing, wondered if she’d suggested it because she knew that he’d never succeed in his current goal. That would bite. It wasn’t possible to make a steady living doing artsy shit, but maybe he could fabricate.
Again, he wanted more.
But what?
At the moment, he needed a beer because he was getting tired of being uncertain about every damned thing in his life except for the fact that he could stay at the feed store forever.
At least if he fabricated metal, he’d have a specialization.
* * *
THE DEAN’S SMALL OFFICE was packed to capacity by the time Molly arrived for her meeting. The dean stood and introduced an unsmiling couple as Mr. and Mrs. Simon. They were in their midforties, Molly estimated as she extended her hand to both and received cool handshakes in return, both blond with angular Scandinavian features that, combined with their elevated noses, gave them a distinctly snooty look—exactly what she expected after dealing with their offspring. Mr. Simon was dressed more formally than the dean, with slacks and a jacket. Mrs. Simon wore a suit that looked very much like Molly’s.
“We’re here today because Mr. and Mrs. Simon have issue with Jonas’s grades.”
“And his treatment.” Mrs. Simon’s mouth closed tight once the few words had escaped.
“As far as treatment goes, we have a his-word-against-hers situation.”
“He has a log.”
Somehow Molly kept her mouth from falling open. Jonas had kept a log? “Amazing.” The word slipped out, bringing the attention of everyone in the room squarely onto her, as if it hadn’t been there before. The dean caught her eye then and Molly got the message loud and clear. He didn’t want to get into the log, and she didn’t blame him. That could be a messy affair, especially since she wasn’t going to allow herself to be steamrollered—unless she had to in order to keep her job. She had her pride, but she also had bills.
