Molly's Mr. Wrong

by Jeannie Watt

  “Getting closer to finals.”

  “I get to teach two classes next semester. One evening. One day.”

  “This could work into full-time,” Molly said as she stirred cream into her coffee.

  “I don’t know that I’d want full-time. There’s still a lot to do on the ranch. We’re rebuilding the main house and even though Jolie and Dylan are back in residence, they already have jobs elsewhere.” Allie shook her head. “A couple days a week is good.”

  They discussed the ranch, the odd weather—first so dry that fires ravaged the area, then so wet that there’d been a very real danger of flooding, and now somewhere in between—and then, after a short spell of silence, Molly said, “I really appreciate your checking in with me. I’m fine, but you’re right—there are just some things you can’t discuss with your little sister.”

  “Trust me. I know. I have three of them.”

  “And I’m curious...you said you’ve been through this yourself. Did it work out?” Or had it been some guy before Jason, who was responsible for the rock the size of Kansas on her left hand.

  “Not without me giving a serious shot at keeping it from working. Fortunately, I have a guy with the patience of Job. He waited me out. Helped me see reason.” Molly tilted her head curiously and Allie continued, “I had this thing about loss. And guess what? If you don’t have anything, you don’t lose anything.”

  Molly wasn’t a big fan of loss, but she could deal. That wasn’t her issue.

  “I just don’t want to get serious,” she said. “I was in a long-term relationship and kind of lost myself in it. After that...well, I’m not looking for anything too deep. I’ve done deep.” She gave her head a shake. “Too deep. No longer a fan.” And then she abandoned her intention of not getting too personal because, damn it, she needed to vent. “All I wanted with Finn was a casual relationship. I made that clear before anything happened. Honest, I did.”

  “And how did you see this ending?”

  Molly blinked at her. “I guess I didn’t think about that.” Who thought about things ending when they were just beginning?

  “So the relationship was just going to peter out?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did it?”

  Molly wasn’t certain she liked this line of questioning, but Allie, being one of four sisters, was doing a pretty good job of sticking her nose into Molly’s business in a way that Molly almost felt as if she had to hear the answers—even if they came out of her own mouth.

  “No.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Allie set her chin on her folded hands, watching her carefully.

  “Because I let it go too far,” Molly said automatically.

  Allie nodded thoughtfully, as if she were a doctor making a diagnosis. “Just one more question,” she promised.

  “Go ahead.” What did she have to lose?

  “Why did you let it go too far?”

  “Because Finn is hot and I have no willpower.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “You said only one more question.”

  Allie smiled a little. “Well, maybe you can just think on that last one.”

  * * *

  THE MEETING WITH the Simons showed every sign of being more of the same. The Simons were there to protect their son and to secure punishments for those who had wronged him. Molly pretty much being the major wrongdoer of the day.

  After smiling at both Simons and forcing them to shake hands by offering hers and hoping aloud that they were well, Molly took her seat and waited for beleaguered Dean Stewart to start the meeting.

  The office door opened and Molly looked back to see one of her colleagues come in.

  “This is Mr. Cortez,” the dean informed Mr. and Mrs. Simon.

  Molly nodded a hello, taking care not to look too friendly, since Mrs. Simon was watching her carefully. She and Luis Cortez hadn’t spoken often, because he was almost as shy as she’d once been, but she’d covered his classes while he’d had the family emergency. Of all the faculty, she was glad he had done the grading. She trusted him to be fair.

  “I’ve had Mr. Cortez review Jonas’s papers,” the dean explained, bringing the attention back to him. Mrs. Simon sat a little taller. “In fact, I had copies typed of two of his problem papers and had Mr. Cortez grade them blind and then compared his results to those of Ms. Adamson’s.”

  He set four papers on his desk. “Mr. Cortez marked in blue. Ms. Adamson in red.”

  Everyone leaned forward and it was all Molly could do not to smile. One grade was the same as hers and the other was two points lower.

  Mrs. Simon sat back with an audible sniff. “Did Mr. Cortez know that Jonas is a high school student?”

  “In this class he isn’t.”

  The Simons didn’t like that pronouncement. “So,” Mr. Simon said slowly, as if he was in the process of making either a major realization or a major accusation, “you’re saying that Jonas is a B student.”

  The guy appeared to be flabbergasted.

  “It appears so,” Dean Stewart replied. “Given the evidence before us.”

  “But this will ruin his GPA.” Mrs. Simon sounded horrified.

  “I’m sure he has time to fix this, if he chooses to apply himself.” For the first time ever, Molly saw the dean’s usually mild expression go stern. “He’s not, you know. And I’m saying this with Jonas’s best interests at heart. This is community college. If he goes to a four-year school next year with this same work ethic...”

  The dean suddenly clammed up, as if realizing he may be screwing up the next campus land donation. He put a hand up to his mouth and gave a slight cough. “Transition is always a challenge and Jonas is young.”

  Molly kept her mouth shut, knowing they were looking for something, anything, to jump on, in order to remove the blame for Jonas’s performance from Jonas himself.

  “What about that other student?” Mr. Simon demanded. “The one getting the false marks?”

  “Federal law prohibits me from discussing that matter with anyone other than the student and the instructors.”

  Mrs. Simon gathered her purse. “I suppose you also don’t care that Jonas was threatened yesterday.”

  “Threatened? That’s a serious accusation.”

  Mr. Simon gave his wife a nudge and Mrs. Simon lifted her chin. “I think we’ve received all the satisfaction we can expect.” She got to her feet. “We will, of course, be discussing the matter with Dr. Womack.”

  The dean nodded. “Of course.”

  He waited until the door was closed behind the Simons before muttering, “Tell him I said hi.”

  Molly waited until Luis Cortez had left before rising to her feet and coming to stand in front of the dean’s desk. “Will this incident affect my professional evaluation?”

  “There will be a record, but no.”

  Relief made her knees feel a little wobbly. “Thank you.”

  “No,” he said softly. “Thank you. Keep fighting the good fight.”

  Molly nodded and left his office, carrying with her the uncomfortable feeling that she was getting better at running away than fighting. And that didn’t make her feel very proud.

  Molly thanked her lucky stars that the hallway was now empty as she started for the entrance, so she didn’t have to pretend to be unaffected by the meeting.

  You wanted to teach.

  Her head was throbbing by the time she made her way to her car—one of the few in the nearly empty lot. Most people, with the exception of Luis Cortez and Allie, whom she’d heard in the art studio, and the dean, were eating dinner with their families. Soon she’d be home deep into a bag of potato chips. Unless Georgina was there. Then it would be something healthy, chased by potato chips.

  Parked next to her car was
a low-slung sports car that had seen better days. A perfect student fixer-upper, not old enough to be classic, but not new enough to be cool. Molly had just noticed the Arizona plates when the door opened and the bane of her existence stepped out onto the pavement. Molly was so stunned that all she could do was think that this was perfect timing on Blake’s part, because she’d just been wondering how her day could get worse.

  Blake was still beautiful. Tall, very muscular, chiseled features. Pretty damned close to perfect. Even the strands of premature gray that threaded through his dark hair made him look hotter.

  Molly was so very done with hot. Hot dulled her protective instincts.

  “Good to see you, Blake. Did you bring the check for the house?”

  He smiled at her and he was watching her closely, as he did when he was about to work things. “Not yet.”

  “How’s Butte?” Other than too damned close.

  “Not what I expected. There’s, like, a copper mine in the middle of town.”

  “It’s a pit, I believe.” Molly closed her mouth then and waited—waited for Blake to explain why he was here in person, upsetting her life yet again. It was amazing how the guy who had once been the center of her world now made her feel so angry—more at herself than at him. Not that she wasn’t still plenty pissed at him. It was as if he were the incarnation of all the mistakes she’d made after leaving home.

  No—that was exactly what he was. Mistakes she would not repeat.

  “I have to admit to being mystified as to why you’re here. Why you sent me flowers.”

  “So you got the message?”

  “Message received and denied,” she said lightly, determined not to show him how much he could still upset her.

  He let out breath and then pressed his lips together as he contemplated the ground near his expensive athletic shoes. “We were good together.”

  “You cheated on me.”

  He looked up at her then, his eyes so amazingly blue and dazzling that she thought it was a shame they were wasted on such a rat. “I was wrong to do that.”

  “For over two years.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “It’s also unforgiven.” Molly paused. “No. It’s forgiven, but for me, not for you.” And then she couldn’t help but add, “I did everything for you while you were out on the road disrespecting me.”

  “It wasn’t disrespect. It was nothing. Those women meant nothing.”

  “Yet your teammates knew their names.”

  They’d had the groupie discussion before—several times—and it sickened her that he thought of these woman more as bed warmers and arm candy than as people. She was not having the discussion again. Not when her heart was pounding against her ribs out of sheer anger and her headache was getting worse. “You’ve made trust a hard thing for me, Blake. I’ll never get back to where I was before I met you.”

  “We can go to counseling. I’ve looked into it.”

  Molly gaped at him. She’d suggested counseling once and he’d told her they could work things out alone. “Go to hell, Blake.”

  “You’re a hard bitch, Molly.”

  She laughed and it felt good, if not a little hysterical. “I’ve worked hard to get there.”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and thrust it toward her. Molly took it automatically and unfolded it. A personal check made out to her.

  “I thought you said—”

  “The boat. Not the house. It was supposed to be a peace offering.”

  “Then we’d get back together?” And she could embark on another journey of paranoia? She thought not.

  “It’s part of what you owe me, Blake. And that’s it.” And it wouldn’t come close to paying for the damage he’d done her. She dug into her purse and pulled out one of her business cards. “Mail the next check if the house ever sells. And do not ever come see me in person again.”

  After Blake got into his sad sports car and ripped out of the lot, Molly got into her car and sat for several long minutes before finally putting the key in the ignition.

  Something wasn’t right.

  As soon as she got home she dropped her bag on the sofa next to Georgina’s laundry and booted up her laptop.

  It didn’t take too much of a search to bring up a sports gossip site and discover that Blake’s newest woman had allegedly hated Butte. The picture with the article had a Photoshopped rip between Blake in his new uniform and his lady, who was a systems analyst—no surprise there, because Blake liked his women smart, yet docile. Apparently this one wasn’t so docile and now he needed a replacement.

  Molly was nearby...

  She shut the lid to the laptop a little too hard, then quickly tested it to make certain she hadn’t damaged it. Blake had screwed up enough things in her life.

  The laptop was fine and Molly leaned back in her chair. She’d cash the check, put the money toward something useful yet not tangible. Like six months of rent. That way she wouldn’t have to look at a new sofa, which she needed, and think of the scars Blake had left her with.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SOMETIMES IT SEEMED to Molly that her sister was spending more time with Mike and Elaine than she was at home. And she knew why. Georgina didn’t appreciate Molly’s concerns over her relationship with Chase, so when she wasn’t studying, she often slipped around the chain-link fence and went visiting. Molly missed her sister time, but she also had legitimate concerns. Her sister didn’t have the experience she had and Molly would not see her make the same mistakes.

  Things came to a head as Georgina was getting ready to go on her last fall hike. She finished lacing her boots, then leaned back in the chair and said, “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

  “For what?”

  “A few strategic questions about my boyfriend.”

  Molly sat on the edge of the sofa on the opposite side of the small room from where Georgina sat. “You know I’m only asking out of concern.”

  “And I also know that you’re not my mom.” Georgina got to her feet and picked up her day pack from where it was leaning against the chair. “You mean well. I get that. But Moll? You can’t project what happened to you onto me.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “You are.”

  “Just the mistake parts.”

  “The perceived mistakes.” Georgina’s jaw was tight, a sure sign that she was holding her temper. “I like Chase for who he is. Not for who his dad was or what his brothers do. I like him.”

  “Those other things affect him and thereby affect you.”

  “He’s dependable, Molly. He doesn’t lie.”

  “That you know of.”

  Sudden anger flashed in her sister’s eyes. “Stop it, Molly. Stop judging everyone on the merits on one washed-up asshole ballplayer who used his dick for reassurance that he was the best thing ever. Just...stop.”

  Molly opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. Georgina hoisted her pack onto her shoulder. “I’m late. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She strode to the door without another word and left the house. The door closed behind her with a careful click, leaving Molly staring at the oak panels, still with no words.

  Slowly she sank down onto the sofa.

  Georgina’s words rang just a little too true. As did Finn’s.

  Was she damaged by the past? Yes. Was she working to get better?

  In some ways and not others. In her professional and social life, yes. In her personal life...not really.

  It was natural to avoid pain.

  But not if it meant avoiding living.

  Not when it meant letting a guy with a dick problem ruin your future.

  Okay. She’d make peace with her sister when she got home. Try harder to not reac
t to deep knee-jerk fears. Maybe work her way toward trust, as in trust in her own judgment and accept that sometimes she was going to be wrong and when she was, there would be consequences.

  So damned scary, that.

  * * *

  FINN WAS IN the warehouse when the call came in that someone wanted to see him. If it had been Molly, he was pretty certain that Lola would have teased him rather than barking that he was wanted.

  When he got into the store he could see why Lola had barked. The couple standing next to the counter looked distinctly out of place in a feed store—even one with a boutique.

  “May I help you?”

  “We would like to speak in private.”

  “Sure.” He walked to the office and opened the door. For once Karl and Cal weren’t there. He gestured to the couple and they walked inside.

  “How can I help you?”

  “We are Jonas Simon’s parents,” the woman said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  The woman blinked at him. “Why?”

  Finn made a gesture. “Please. Go on.”

  “We’re not certain if you realize how difficult it is for a high school student to tackle college.”

  “I know how hard it is for me,” he said candidly.

  Mr. Simon nodded. “I can imagine.”

  Finn’s jaw muscles tightened, but he let the remark pass. “Why are you here?”

  “Jonas said you threatened him.”

  “With legal action. Not fists or anything.”

  “Legal action?” The guy seemed thoroughly stunned. Apparently Jonas had left out that detail.

  “He spread rumors about our instructor and me that were not true.” At the time. But technicalities counted. He settled a hip on the desk. “Even if they were true, it would be none of his business. If he was made to feel uncomfortable, it’s because he barged into Ms. Adamson’s office hours whenever it suited him, whether another student was in there or not. At least one time that other student was me.”

  “Why would he make up such a rumor?” Mrs. Simon asked.

  “My guess would be revenge.” Finn lifted his eyebrows. “Anything else?”