by Street, K.
I clicked open my design program and pulled up the project in question. One minute faded into the next.
I’d been so engrossed in my work, volleying between the numerous open tabs, that I didn’t hear Molly enter the room.
The feel of her small, cold hand on my warm bicep caused me to jump.
“Jesus.”
“Sorry.” She kissed the top of my shoulder. “What are you working on?”
I proceeded to fill her in. Showing her all the facets of the design and explaining the changes the client wanted to make.
“I have no idea how I’m going to make this work.” Frustration was evident in my tone.
“Can I see?”
“Sure.”
Molly carefully sat next to me, and I slid the computer over to her. Familiar with the program, she began clicking and moving the cursor.
“I’m going to get another cup of coffee. Can I get you some tea?”
“Yes, please.” Her eyes never left the screen. “Can you grab the peanut butter out of the pantry, too?”
While the bag steeped, I snagged a yogurt out of the fridge and the jar of JIF from the shelf inside the pantry, setting both in front of Molly along with two spoons.
A few minutes later, I sat beside her with fresh coffee for me and a hot tea for her.
I couldn’t help but stare at her while she worked. She alternated between sipping her tea and eating the creamy peanut butter by the spoonful while she hummed. Long, messy hair piled high on her head. Eyes shining and brows furrowed in concentration.
Damn, she was so fucking sexy. I’d forgotten how much I loved watching her work.
Several more minutes passed before Molly angled the laptop in my direction. She had shifted a few things around and made several tweaks. “See if you can get the client to agree to something like that.” She gestured at the screen. “The changes would be minor, so the base plans would stay the same. It would still give him some of what he wants.”
I scrubbed my hand over my beard, considering her suggestion. “It’s a great idea. He’d have to compromise a bit, but it would save a hell of a lot of time and money.”
And I wouldn’t be tempted to murder him and bury his body in the concrete foundation.
“It’s impressive. You’re incredibly talented. Brilliant actually.”
She blushed beneath my praise. “Thanks.”
“Do you know, it’s one of the things I found most attractive about you? Still find attractive about you.”
“Really?” The red of her cheeks deepened.
“Yes.” I thought back to that day at the job fair. “Your portfolio outshone every other applicant.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“That’s why you got the job. The fact that you looked sexy as hell was just a bonus.”
She tossed her head back in laughter. The sound going straight to my dick.
“I miss working on concepts and designs.”
My brow rose.
Molly was young but talented and passionate. Her current employer was a fucking idiot if he wasn’t capitalizing on what she brought to the table.
She focused her attention on opening the lid to her yogurt. Without looking up, she said, “You know how it is. Those old-fashioned Southern boys and their close-minded ideals. My boss is kind of a dick.”
Her comment drew my full attention. “No, I don’t know how it is. What do you mean, he’s a dick?”
“It’s not a big deal. I just spend more time fetching coffee and filing reports than I do putting my engineering degree to good use.”
The look in her eyes told me there was plenty more she wasn’t saying. “He isn’t harassing you, is he?”
“No.” She waved me off. “Nothing like that.”
“You could quit.”
She dipped her spoon into the yogurt, scraping along the bottom to get to the fruit. Twisting her hand in an under-over motion. Completely fixated. When she pulled the utensil out, the creamy white substance had turned a light shade of purple.
“I can’t just up and quit my job. Not yet.”
“What about after your maternity leave is up? Does he know you’re not coming back?”
Her silence was all the answer I needed.
My jaw tightened as I woke the computer and began saving all the file changes, renaming a few, and closing out the litany of open tabs. Then, I shut the machine down, shoved the laptop back into its bag, and got to my feet, putting space between us.
I leaned against the opposite counter, crossing my arms. “You still need a plan B. Is that it? Is that why you haven’t told him you’re not coming back?”
“No.”
I swallowed my anger and softened my tone. “If that’s not the reason, what is?”
She rested her hands on her belly. “My boss will make my life a living hell. Or worse, he’ll fire me. He’s an asshole. I told you before, my health insurance is through my job. My doctor is here in Atlanta. I’m not due for weeks. There is less than two hundred dollars in my checking account. Quitting my job is something I literally can’t afford to do right now.”
“I can afford it. I will take care of you.”
“I appreciate it, and if I were looking for a sugar daddy, I might take you up on that.”
“You’re so damn infuriating.” I stalked over to her and gently pulled out the barstool chair she sat in. “Number one”—I tapped the pad of one index finger to the other—“there isn’t quite ten years between us. Technically, I’m not old enough to be your sugar daddy. Number two”—I ticked my middle finger—“I love you.”
“I—”
My mouth claimed hers in a kiss. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I want to take care of both of you.”
“I’m trying to let you. I swear I am. It’s just …” She trailed off.
“Just what?” I stepped back, giving her some space.
Molly got up from the stool, grabbed her mug, and crossed the kitchen to the counter where the Keurig sat. She busied herself, making another cup of tea.
“I’ve had to take care of myself for so long, and it’s not something I can shut off simply because you want me to. I’m working on it. Three therapy sessions isn’t going to undo the last twenty-four years. It isn’t personal.”
“It feels that way.”
“We are all shaped by our experiences. I’m no different.” Her hands gripped the cup as she stared into the liquid. “I cleaned my own scrapes. Put on my own bandages. Wiped my own tears. I went years without being hugged. Nobody cared how well I did in school. Or told me they were proud of me.” She lifted her gaze to mine. “The only person I’ve ever been able to depend on stares back at me every morning as I brush my teeth.”
The knife in my gut painfully twisted. “Jesus, baby. I’m—”
Her hand went up, palm out. The gesture cutting off my words. “People in this world have been dealt far shittier hands than mine. I’m not telling you this because I want your pity. I’m trying to help you understand me.”
I crossed the distance between us, tucking her into my embrace, and rested my chin on her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
Her hands rested on my hips. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I’m scarred, and I’m flawed. If you really love me, you have to love all of me. Even the parts you find infuriating.”
“I am proud of you. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. You don’t have to do it on your own. Not anymore. I’m standing right here.”
Molly peered up at me. “Thank you.” Then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed my lips.
It felt like we had overcome some obstacle, and the heavy tension that had been in the air quickly dissipated.
I swept a strand of hair from her forehead. “What do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Well … the other day, I stopped by the hardware store and picked out some paint swatches.”
“For the nursery?”
“Yes. And I
thought we could do a little online shopping, too. You know, since you’re so hell-bent on spending money,” she teased.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, she’ll need somewhere to sleep.”
“True.” I lowered my head, my mouth hovering above hers. “Do you know what else she needs?”
“Hmm.”
“A name.”
Thirty-Eight
Molly
One day faded into the next as my due date drew closer.
Only four more weeks, I reminded myself.
Easton and I had gone back and forth in regard to the baby’s name. We had yet to agree on anything and I had to laugh when my phone vibrated on my desk Wednesday afternoon with another suggestion.
Easton: How do you feel about Kaitlyn?
Me: In the fifth grade, there were no less than five girls named Kaitlyn in my class.
I loved traditional boy names for girls. However, East wasn’t too keen on having a daughter named Teddy, Frankie, or James.
Easton: Got it. Kaitlyn is a no.
Me: How about Lorelai or Rory? Lane is cute.
Just to mess with him, I quickly fired off another text.
Me: Sookie is adorable, and I’d bet money there wouldn’t be five of them in her class.
Easton: Negative, Ghost Rider. We’re not naming our kid after the cast of Gilmore Girls.
Me: *huffs* Fine.
* * *
I eyed the unfamiliar car parked in Easton’s driveway as I pulled into it on Friday night. A grin spread over my face when my headlights shone on the Tiffany-blue bumper sticker that read Salty but sweet. For some reason, it reminded me of Paige.
I got out of the vehicle, shouldered my bag and then tugged the sleeves of my gray cable knit sweater over my cold hands. I knocked on Easton’s front door. It took several long seconds for him to answer it.
He pulled the door open and greeted me with a soft, chaste kiss. “There you are.”
“Here I am.” I lifted my forearms, palms open, elbows at my side.
“Come on in.” He reached for my bag, carefully setting it on the floor. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Together, we walked into the kitchen.
A beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes and a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial stood at the kitchen island with a couple of bakery boxes in front of her.
Jealousy prickled my skin.
My eyes shifted from her to Easton and then back to her. I had no idea who this woman was or why she was here, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they had slept together at some point.
“Layken, this is my girlfriend, Molly.” His palm met the small of my back. “Molls, this is Layken.”
She wiped her hands on a tea towel. “Molly, it’s so great to finally meet you.” Her tone was warm. Genuine. Like that of an old friend. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
My cheeks heated as the words stumbled over my lips. “I-I wish I could say the same.”
I really wished I could. Her presence left me completely blindsided. She was stunning, and I … I was a fucking Oompa Loompa.
She crossed the few feet of space between us. “This is a little weird because we don’t know each other, but I’m going to hug you.”
Layken did just that. A quick, solid hug. No back-patting for her.
She scrunched her nose the tiniest bit and announced, “I’m about to make things even weirder. East and I are just friends. Though I did ask him for coffee once months ago. He turned me down cold.”
“Okay.” I dragged the word out. “Good to know.”
“You looked a little confused, and I wanted to get the awkward out of the way.” Her eyes shifted upward. “That’s not entirely true. I’m his dealer, too.”
“His dealer?”
She pointed to the light-blue boxes on the center island. “I own Sifted Bliss; it’s a fairly new bakery here in town. Saylor is addicted, and she turned your man here into an addict, too.”
Easton kissed my temple. “I asked Saylor to run by the bakery for me, but Knox got sick, and Layken offered to make the drop after she closed up tonight.”
“That was kind of you.” I directed my comment to Layken and then turned to Easton. “Is Knox okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Easton laughed. “I’m a little concerned about Saylor though. When she called, she went on and on about some kid named Duke and dirty gummies.”
I didn’t even want to know.
“Well, I’m off,” Layken cheerfully stated. “I have a date with Brody.”
“Who the hell is Brody?” Easton prodded.
“A very hot”—she gave an exaggerated wink—“fireman. He saved my great-aunt Bea’s kitten from a tree.”
I giggled. “Wait. For real? I thought that only happened in the movies.”
“Right! God, I love living in a small town.”
Easton rolled his eyes at the two of us.
“It was nice meeting you, Layken.”
“You, too, Molly. Bye, East.”
“Bye, Lake, and thanks again. I’m sure I’ll see you next week.”
The timer dinged as she walked out the door. Garlic and spices wafted through the air as Easton opened the oven.
“I like her. She seems like quite the character.”
“She’s sweet. Really funny, too, and she makes a hell of a croissant.”
Jealousy I really didn’t have a right to feel gnawed at me. I’d kept everything inside instead of talking to him, and I’d run. He’d tried to get over me. It wasn’t right to punish him or be pissed about something that was my fault. Even still, I was curious.
“So, you two never …”
“No.”
“Why not? I mean, she’s beautiful.”
He set the lasagna on the stovetop, pulled off the oven mitts, and stalked over to me. “Aside from the fact that she isn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I bit my lip, waiting for his answer but not quite sure I wanted to hear it.
“I never went there with her because I wasn’t looking for a relationship or strings. I had too much respect for her to use her like that.”
“You said, when we were …” My voice trailed off as I searched for the words. Broken up? Estranged? “When we were apart … I thought you two might have …”
“Hooked up?” he teased.
My head fell to his chest.
Hell, if I were into girls, I’d totally tap Layken.
Not only is she pretty, but she also bakes.
I gave my head a shake. “I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just … I feel like a heifer. Then, I saw her, and she’s so beautiful. And kind. The hug was weird. I mean, it was nice. Still weird. But oddly comforting.” I facepalmed and started laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“You are being a little ridiculous”—Easton laughed—“but you aren’t a heifer. You’re pregnant, and you’re fucking gorgeous. You are everything to me.”
His fingers swept over my palm, slowly lifting it to his chest.
Warmth radiated through me from the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my hand.
“You own this. You own me, Firefly. You have since the moment I met you.”
This man.
With those words, he put any fear I had to rest.
“I love you.” I reached for him, pulling his mouth to mine.
One hand cupped my jaw while the other cradled the back of my head.
Easton’s tongue tangled with mine. In seconds, he took control of the kiss. Deepening it. Stealing my breath.
“Hungry?” he asked against my lips.
“Starved.”
“For food or something else?” A slow grin spread over his face.
I lightly poked him in the ribs and then rested my palm on my belly. “Feed us.”
“My pleasure.”
While he plated the food, I opened one of the boxes Layken had left on the counter and popped a small, round pastry dusted in powdered sugar into my mouth. A hin
t of cinnamon and orange burst on my taste buds.
“Mmm. So good.” I moaned. “What are these? They’re orgasmic.”
“Zeppole.”
I peeked back into the box. “Oh my God. Is that chocolate sauce?”
Easton chuckled. “Yep.”
“How did you not sleep with her?”
We both started laughing.
I had to get away from the damn box before I ate all the little doughnut-like confections. “Can I help with anything?”
“You can grab the salad tongs.”
I plucked the stainless steel utensil from the caddy on the counter by the stove and then followed Easton to the dining area.
He placed our plates on the table next to the basket of fresh bread. “Have a seat. I just need to get the salad from the fridge.”
I took the seat, breathing in the aroma of Italian spices.
“Here.” Easton extended a glass of ice water to me and then set the salad bowl down.
“Thanks.”
I waited for him to serve the salad and take a seat before I picked up my fork. Steam billowed as I cut into the layers of noodles, sauce, and cheese. I lifted a forkful to my mouth, slipping the tines past my lips. The sweet taste of tomatoes, creamy ricotta, and fragrant basil rolled over my tongue.
A low moan sounded at the base of my throat in appreciation.
“That good?” Easton’s lust-drunk eyes were fixed on my lips.
“So good.” I reached for my water glass, taking a sip.
“You feeling okay? You were a little later than I’d thought you would be.”
I debated on telling him what had held me up. Then again, he would find out tomorrow morning anyway when he noticed I had driven Paige’s car instead of mine. A fact he’d missed earlier because I had parked on the other side of Layken’s car.
“My car started making this noise.”
“What sort of noise?”
“Hmm.” I thought of how best to describe it. “It sounds a little like a piece of plastic stuck in a bicycle spoke. It started a few days ago, but it seems to have gotten louder. After work, I ran home and switched cars. Paige let me borrow hers.”
