And if things went his way, he was about to have the woman of his dreams.
* * *
Molly stopped around the corner and closed her eyes, her heart beating so fast she was surprised she didn’t implode.
As if seeing Zeke Dawson again—and for a job interview—after all these years hadn’t been enough, there was her crying daughter, quite possibly the loudest baby in Bear Ridge, and her mom and the cake landing right on Zeke’s expensive shoes.
But she’d gotten the job! She could hardly believe she had. Mission accomplished, Molly, she cheered herself on as she resumed walking. The position was perfect for her, and as a bonus, she’d see Zeke Dawson—tall, gorgeous, sexy, dark-haired, Caribbean Sea‒eyed—every weekday from nine to five. Who knew what could happen in a two-person office, working late at night, sharing takeout, an unexpected kiss leading to her finally feeling Zeke’s lips on her, his hands on her. She grinned at the fantasy.
But then she came back to earth fast. She was a realist who had never let her daydreams get the better of her. Molly had been secretly in love with Zeke Dawson since middle school and he had never noticed her. Now he would never see her as anything other than his trusty administrative assistant.
There had been sixty-two kids in their graduating class at Bear Ridge High School. Everyone “knew” each other. Or of each other. But some people didn’t stick in others’ minds, and Molly had always been one of them. When Zeke had first walked into the office for their interview and she’d stood to shake his hand, her knees had wobbled. She’d been so consumed by seeing him up close and personal that she’d rambled on about their kindergarten teacher’s glasses, for Pete’s sake. She’d worried she might go mute when she came face-to-face with him, so at least she’d said something.
And she was no longer that quiet girl with zero confidence, the plain Jane sidekick to the school beauty who no one ever noticed. Molly might not have changed all that much physically since senior year—though she’d given up glasses for contacts because Lucy liked to grab them and shake them in her little fists—but she had in all other ways. Between the divorce and motherhood, Molly had come into her own. She knew who she was and she liked that person.
She could finally go for Zeke Dawson, make her move. Except there were two problems with that. One: now he was her boss. There was probably a policy against dating coworkers, particularly a subordinate, in the Dawson Solutions, Inc. company manual. And even if she “seized the day,” as her mom was always telling her to do, and made her feelings known, Zeke was just too gorgeous and sexy for the plain Jane in the pantsuit and sensible pumps. He’d let her down easy and she’d still have to work with him. Appreciated for her mind if not her face and body. That would actually make continuing on as his admin bearable, now that she thought about it. She frowned—didn’t she just say she wasn’t that same old girl without any confidence?
Two: the fact that Molly’s name and face hadn’t registered with Zeke one bit did irk her. He hadn’t remembered she existed. Out of sixty-two kids in their graduating class? Come on. She’d be invisible to him all over again, and the new Molly Orton would not let herself fall for someone that shallow. She owed herself and her daughter better than that. How could she guide Lucy in the ways of womanhood if she was mooning over a man who didn’t even remember her? Molly had thought about dolling up for the interview; she actually did own a few push-up bras that she’d gotten for her bridal shower. But she’d learned fast that trying to be someone she wasn’t was never the answer. Molly wasn’t a push-up-bra type. She wore the teensiest bit of makeup—a dab of powder, a little mascara, a bit of rosy blush—as part of her professional look. She was understated—except when it came to her hair, which just couldn’t be controlled. She was who she was, and Zeke was who he was: out of her league on a looks level.
But he’d never been a town golden boy. Far from it. Growing up, everyone had heard the stories about his dad, a flirtatious drunk. His father had been married three or four times and was a notorious womanizer. She remembered hearing about classmates’ dads chasing him down Main Street for making a pass at their wives. After running his parents’ fifty-year-old popular guest ranch into the ground, Bo Dawson had died just over a year ago, from alcoholism complications. Life as one of his six kids couldn’t have been easy. Zeke had been through some hard stuff from an early age.
And Molly hadn’t been in love with him half her life just because he was so good-looking. Back in school he had a reputation for being a nice guy who’d always stood up for the underdog. Given how he’d reacted just now, he was still the same wonderful guy.
Who had never noticed her. Not even when he’d walk down the halls of Bear Ridge High, unable to take his eyes off her best friend, Danica, and Molly had been right beside her—for years! Granted, every guy had mooned over Danica in school, walking into open lockers and doors and water fountains. Molly had been invisible.
And now? She’d hardly be invisible in her new role. Molly would just wait and see what happened. They were both single and that meant something could develop between them. If he wasn’t attracted to her, fine. She’d move on from thinking of him as a remote possibility. Somehow.
She started walking home but suddenly froze. Someone else was single again. For the first time since high school: Danica Dunbar. Molly’s bestie, newly divorced and looking, was five-nine, model thin with big boobs, long blond hair, angelic blue eyes, a warm, funny personality and had the opposite sex drooling everywhere she went. Her best friend would surely notice Zeke. He was the hottest guy in town.
Then again, despite being one of the kindest people Molly knew, Danica had a thing for men who didn’t deserve her. She liked bad boys, always had. Whether slick in a suit or brooding in a leather jacket on a motorcycle. Molly had had lunch today with Danica, just before the interview, Danica asking for advice about getting back out there in the dating world. Bless her sweet heart for thinking Molly could possibly offer tips on men to a Christie Brinkley lookalike. Molly had told Danica to try changing her type—nice guys only. No bad boys. Molly wanted her friend to take her good advice—as long as she didn’t go for Zeke Dawson, a nice guy who looked like a bad boy in the smoldering sense.
Hmm, she thought as she turned onto Oak Lane. Maybe Molly would have to break her vow never to tell anyone how she felt about Zeke. One thing Molly had never shared with Danica was her crush on him—not back in middle school or high school, when she’d hoped so hard he’d mysteriously ask her to the prom (he hadn’t), and not now, when he’d suddenly come back to town after a thirteen-year-absence. In high school, another girlfriend of theirs had had an insane crush on a major pop star that had consumed her, and Molly had always felt being secretly in love with Zeke was kind of like that. Unattainable. Ridiculous. Pointless. Molly—smart and sensible—had faced facts even in elementary school when not one boy asked her to the fifth-grade semiformal. If Danica knew how Molly felt about Zeke, her sweet, loyal friend would never look twice at him. Molly had no doubt of that. But she’d feel silly even bringing it up. Um, Danica, I’m in love with Zeke Dawson and may or may not go for him and he’ll never go for me, but if he asks you out, can you say no?
Maybe he’ll ask you out, she reminded herself.
Molly pushed all that away and channeled a scene from one of her favorite movies, Bridget Jones’s Diary, imagining Colin Firth telling Renée Zellweger he liked her, very much, just as she was.
She’d keep her secret to herself. And play it by the ole ear. After all, now that she’d be working with Zeke, he’d truly get to know her. And didn’t her mom always say that to know Molly was to love her?
She grinned and kept walking. All she knew for sure was that Monday would be very interesting.
Chapter Two
Shifting the bakery box to his other hand, Zeke rang the doorbell at 102 Oak Lane, a small yellow cottage, the postage-stamp yard covered in snow from the last storm. After Mo
lly left this afternoon, he’d gone into his office to do some prep for a few meetings he’d scheduled for Monday, but he’d been unable to stop thinking about the cake in the street. A baby’s birthday cake. He had to replace it. There was only one bakery in town, and just down Main Street on the other side, so he’d gone there.
The door opened and there was Molly in yoga pants and a Wyoming Cowboys sweatshirt, her gorgeous wild curls loose past her shoulders. She held a bunch of helium balloons—and frowned at the sight of him. “Zeke? You’re not here to take it all back, are you? I don’t have the job?”
He smiled. “You absolutely do. I just figured I’d bring you this.” He held up the cake box. “A new and improved strawberry shortcake. I had them write Happy 1st Birthday, Lucy on it in pink.”
She gasped, her free hand going to her chest, and stared at the box for a moment. “How incredibly thoughtful of you, Zeke. Wow. Thank you.”
“Well, like I said, strawberry shortcake is my favorite, so I couldn’t imagine Lucy not trying her very first slice. I mean, it is her birthday.”
Molly grinned. “She’s—”
“Waaah!” came a high-pitched shriek. “Waaah!”
“Uh-oh,” Molly said. “I’d just got her down for her nap, too. Her party starts in two hours and I’ve got a ton to do. Usually my mom comes to my rescue but my cousin’s son had to be picked up sick from school and my dad is superbusy with his new retirement venture, so I’m on my own.”
The phone rang. Then another one rang. “Oh, God, landline and cell at the same time! Ahhh!” She threw her hands up in the air, the balloons drifting up to the ceiling. She slapped her hand to her forehead.
Zeke held back his smile. “Tell you what. You answer the phones and do what you need to. I’ll go get Lucy. My brother Noah calls me the baby whisperer. I pick up one of his crying twins and they instantly stop bawling, little hands pulling my ears.”
Her eyes brightened. “First door down that hallway!” she tossed over her shoulder as she ran for the phone on the coffee table. The landline was still blaring away.
“Waaah! Waaah!”
“Coming, Lucy,” he called. He glanced around as he headed down the hall. The house was small but cozy, nicely decorated in what his sister would call beach-cottage-chic with white walls, pale blue sofas, pillows with embroidered starfish, shag rugs and lots of driftwood furnishing. He arrived at the nursery, Lucy stenciled on the door in pink and purple script. He went inside to find the baby girl screaming bloody murder again in her crib. She stood, holding on to the railing. “Hey, there,” he said. “I’ve got you.” The sound of his voice had her quiet for a moment, her big brown eyes, just like her mom’s, fixed on him. She held up her arms.
He took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the glider chair beside the window, then reached for the baby and brought her to his chest. “How does such a little human make such a big sound? Huh? Can you tell me that?”
Lucy didn’t answer or even look up at him. She was too busy fighting her drooping eyes, her little fist grabbing at a button on his shirt. He patted and rubbed her back and sang her what he remembered of the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” song, and the baby’s mouth gave a quirk, then the eyes finally closed for good.
“Success,” he whispered with one final gentle pat. “How I’m the baby whisperer of Bear Ridge when I don’t even want a baby of my own is beyond me, but some things are mysteries, right, Lucy?”
“Well, that’s a shame. You really are the baby whisperer.”
Startled, he turned to find Molly in the doorway, the balloons in her hand again.
“Usually when Lucy wakes up during a nap,” she said, “especially early on, she’s impossible to get back to sleep. I owe you—again.”
He grinned. “Just the uncle touch. My brother Rex’s baby girl is around Lucy’s age and loves me. I’m her new favorite. Drives Rex nuts. He was the old favorite till I showed up in town.”
Molly grinned. “Yup, Lucy’s new favorite is my cousin Stella. She has a red heart tattooed above her eyebrow—for real, and wears sparkly green eyeshadow. No one can compete with all that fun glam.”
He glanced down at the baby asleep in his arms. She really was precious, as her nana had called her. Big rosy cheeks, bow lips, curly brown hair that promised to be just like her mom’s. She wore purple fleece pj’s that said Baby Power across the front.
“I’ll put her back in the crib,” he said, heading over. He set her down, expecting her to screech any second, but she transferred perfectly, not a peep. His twin niece and nephew, Annabel and Chance, were champion nappers, but Tony, his sister Daisy’s baby, required tricks.
In the two weeks he’d been back in town, he’d spent time with his siblings and had done some babysitting, making up for all the moments he’d missed. Being the uncle was easy; after an hour or two of playtime, he could leave. How his siblings had taken to parenthood was beyond him. They’d had the same cruddy upbringing he had. Noah and Daisy, his youngest siblings, had lost their mother when they were kids; they’d been raised by Bo Dawson. And they were the first two to marry and become parents. Not necessarily in that order, but still. They seemed like such naturals at it—the doting, the caretaking, the love. Everything. Axel and Rex, who he’d also thought the two least likely people alive to become dads, were now hoisting their own little ones and nieces and nephews up in the air, proudly wearing their Wyoming’s Best Dad sweatshirts that Daisy had given them as stocking stuffers last Christmas. Was it the Bear Ridge water? Something in the air, maybe? The ranch soil? Now that he was back, would he suddenly turn into a family man? He didn’t see it. He’d have to ask his brother Ford—the other holdout. As the eldest Dawson sibling, Ford had seen it all.
“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Molly asked as they left the nursery and headed down the hall.
“Well, there are the twins—my brother Noah’s kids. And Tony, my sister Daisy’s son. Then there’s Axel’s son, Danny, who’s two and will be getting a sibling soon. And Rex has Chloe. She’ll be one soon. I think.” He shot her a sheepish smile. “I might have all that completely wrong. My calendar tracks their birthdays.”
She grinned. “Well, as your new admin, I can take over that.”
“No way,” he said. “I don’t assign personal stuff. That’s not your job.”
Her entire face brightened and he was suddenly struck with the urge to kiss her.
Whoa. What? This was his new employee. In an oversize Wyoming Cowboys sweatshirt and navy yoga pants. Where had the burst of attraction come from? Molly wasn’t his type at all. Danica Dunbar had always been his ideal and he’d been drawn to that look in college and at work over the years—tall busty blondes with easy laughter and long nails. He loved long, polished nails and jewelry that clinked.
Jada, his ex, was all of that, and she’d burned and betrayed him. So maybe the urge to kiss Molly—not tall, not blonde, not particularly busty, no makeup, short, unpolished nails and no jewelry, in sweats—was about a break in that type. His brain protecting him from what had happened in Cheyenne.
Except Danica was exactly that type. Then again, she was the original.
He glanced at Molly, suddenly confused by his crazy train of thoughts.
“Not to speak ill of my last boss,” she said as she led the way into the kitchen, where she set the bakery box on the counter. “But ugh, what a jerk! He had me send flowers to women he dated and even asked me to pick out sexy lingerie for his last girlfriend. I finally had had enough and quit without having another job lined up. Irresponsible, I know, given that I have a baby to support. But the last straw was when—” She clamped her mouth shut and turned away. “Anyhoo. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?”
He frowned, wondering what she’d been about to say. He hated the idea of anyone harassing her or causing her grief. “Well, I can assure you that I run my office in a very professional m
anner.”
But he had just been thinking about kissing her. She did have a lovely face, so warm and open, her lips plump and pink, the big brown eyes so intelligent and curious.
She laughed, loud and happy, the sound making him smile. He just liked Molly, liked being around her, liked her as a person. She was easy to talk to, easy to be with, and as his new employee, of course he was interested in her as a human being. She’d soon play a major role in his life. Of course he hadn’t wanted to kiss her—he just enjoyed her company, was all.
“I don’t have macadamia,” she said, gesturing at her coffee maker, “but I do have hazelnut. And Jamaican Me Crazy. My personal favorite.”
He’d actually love to sit down at her small, round kitchen table with the stained-glass vase of orange flowers and have a cup of her favorite coffee. Molly Orton relaxed him, and between opening his own consulting firm and moving back to his hometown, he’d been wound tight. But he couldn’t stay. Unfortunately.
“Actually, I can’t,” he said. “I’m on babysitting duty for Axel’s toddler. That kid keeps me on my toes. He’s actually a faster runner than I am. Tell Lucy I said happy birthday, okay?”
She tilted her head, her wild curls falling to the side. “I sure will. And thank you again. For the cake. For being a baby whisperer.” A phone rang again. “Never stops,” she said. “I’m letting that go to voice mail. I have a huge extended family. And everyone wants to know what to get Lucy for her birthday. I keep telling my relatives and friends to just bring themselves, but I have a feeling this tiny house is going to be full of giant stuffed animals and Fisher-Price toys that make lots of noise.”
He smiled. “Yup, you should see my siblings’ houses. Except Ford’s.”
“Ah, yes, you said you two were the last holdouts for marriage and kids.”
Wyoming Cinderella Page 2
