“Even a Flock of Seagulls?” he asked on a grin.
“I think they may have been his very favorite.” She laughed and Lucy let out a giggle, too. “I wonder what the music will be when Lucy starts walking around with earphones, blocking out my nagging.”
He smiled. “Maybe new wave will be back. You know, I really am glad to hear your parents are happily married. That’s really nice. For them and for you. And just good to know. That there really are solid marriages out there.”
She set the plates on the table, then reached into the cabinet and took out two mugs. “There definitely are. There are quite a few in my extended family. My great-aunt and great-uncle, Daphne and Dave, make out. Not that I want to see that.”
Zeke laughed. “I hear ya. My dad and his third wife were always lip-locked. She was Noah and Daisy’s mother but she passed away from cancer when they were young. They were married until the very end and I know he loved her very much, but the roving eye, the flirting, never stopped.” He sighed. “It was nice to always see them hugging, though. Leah forgave him way too much—she actually accepted him as he was. Which I think is nuts. She was such a generous, kind person. Why let herself be treated that way by a snake?”
Molly headed over to the coffee maker, making a fresh pot. “Hmm. I guess she overlooked what she needed to in order to be married to the man she loved. Everyone makes their own compromises, choices.”
“I guess,” he said, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. A few times when he was a teenager, school would let out and he’d walk along Main Street with his friends and one would say, “Hey, Zeke, isn’t that your dad with his tongue down that redhead’s throat in front of Billy’s Bar?” And it always was. Sometimes a blonde, sometimes a redhead, sometimes a brunette. “I thought he was married to wife number five or something,” the friend would add. And Zeke would just shrug and seethe.
“My mom and dad are huggers,” she said fast as if wanting to keep the conversation on happier terms. “Always hugging. Every time I see them in each other’s arms, I feel so comforted, even now at age thirty-one. Is that crazy?”
“Nope. Not at all. Who doesn’t like a hug? Now that I think about it, I’m kind of getting a hug from a one-year-old baby.” He smiled at Lucy, who was staring at him, looking so intently at his face. At his nose. He really liked this kid. And he liked the lighter conversation—definitely.
“You know,” Molly said, “after my ex and his wife dropped off Lucy’s cake at her party, I happened to catch them walking back to their car and saw the way Lila took his hand, the way they embraced in the car for longer than the usual hug. I know it’s hard for him—seeing his baby girl only a couple days a week, having her every other weekend. Yeah, he blew up our family, but it’s still rough on him. I really saw it in how they were hugging—needing that hug. That helps me be kind to them.”
“It’s great that you have an amicable relationship,” Zeke said. “And that you’re so empathetic.”
Molly poured two mugs of coffee and set them on the table. “Well, thanks. I do try. Plus, I hate to say it but Lila is actually nice and she’s very sweet to Lucy. She’s four months pregnant so Lucy will have a sibling—and close to her age. That’s a good thing.”
Except she said it kind of wistfully.
“Must be hard—the back and forth of joint custody,” he said.
“It is. But Andrew and I divorced before Lucy was even born, so I’m used to it. And it really is important to me that Lucy will have her dad and his new family as an equally big part of her life. Gosh,” she said. “How did we get on all this?”
“We do seem to talk easily,” he said. Again he was struck by how little he and his own ex had talked. Their conversations had always been stilted and they rarely got into their pasts or families.
“How about we move coffee and cake into the living room—you can put Lucy in her playpen and we’ll talk.”
He headed into the living room, Molly following with a tray that she set on the coffee table. Shifting Lucy in his arms, he walked over to the window. “Lucy, look, snow flurries. When it starts to snow that means something good is about to happen.”
Molly smiled. “You just made that up.”
“Nope. My gram did. Whenever it would start to snow she’d say that to teach us to always expect the best and not the worst.”
She smiled. “That’s very sweet. I knew your gram. She was so kind.” She held up a finger to indicate she’d be back, then disappeared into the kitchen.
She’d known his grandmother? How was that possible?
In a few minutes Molly was back with two forks. “We definitely need these,” she said.
He smiled and set Lucy back in the playpen. The baby put down her bunny and grabbed her board book with a llama on the front.
“Does Lucy like llamas?” he asked, upping his chin at Lucy’s book before sitting on one end of the three-seater sofa. “We have two at the ranch petting zoo. Oh, wait—they might be alpacas.”
She laughed and sat at the other end of the sofa. “She’s crazy for all animals, just like me when I was young. My parents took us to your family’s ranch for a long weekend every summer when I was a kid—that’s how I knew your grandmother. It was our big family trip.” She smiled. “I loved the petting zoo so much. And the horses and the cafeteria, which had make-your-own sundaes. I would explore the riverfront near our cabin for hours. During one trip, a boy who’d been a real jerk to me—throwing pebbles at me, calling me four-eyes—had gotten assigned my favorite pony for a trail ride, and your grandmother saw me all teary and apparently had witnessed the kid being the devil because she made up some story to get the pony back for me to ride and put the boy on barn chores instead.”
He grinned. “Yup, sounds like Gram. Champion of the underdog. She and my grandfather were wonderful people. The current ranch is a lot different than the old one. Have you been to the new version?”
She took a bite of cake and shook her head. “Out of my league financially. But maybe when Lucy’s a lot older, I can take her. She’d love to see the llamas or alpacas—whichever they are—in person.”
“Well, if you want a weekend away in the country, I can sneak you in. My brother Ford was staying in a small cabin on the ranch but he just bought a house and I’ll probably be moving into the cabin until I figure out if I want to build on the outskirts of the ranch or buy in town. You and Lucy could bunk with me. There’s a guest bedroom.”
She stared at him. “Really? That would be amazing.”
He cut into the red velvet cake. “Absolutely. And my sister-in-law Maisey runs the ranch day-care center and has a baby almost Lucy’s age. You could have some time to yourself while Lucy plays with little buddies in the Kid Zone.”
“Wow, this is sounding like a real vacation.” She grinned. “But given that I just started a new job...I sure would love to take you up on that for a day trip one of these weekends.”
“Next Sunday is supposed to be forty-five degrees and sunny—we’d still have to bundle up but sounds like good weather for a day at the ranch, and we can have lunch in the café. They still do make-your-own sundaes. Pen that in,” he added with a definitive nod.
Her eyes widened and she seemed so happy he had the urge to pull Molly into a hug. Hold her close. Feel her against him.
Whoa there, he thought. He shook that very inappropriate thought right out of his head and cleared his throat. “So you said you could give me some tips about winning Danica’s heart.”
There. Back to the reason for his visit in the first place. Danica floated into his mind, her beautiful face and blue eyes and glossy lips that had starred in his dreams for so many years. Danica Dunbar. Why his mind had gone to holding Molly in his arms was beyond him. Maybe all that talk about hugging. Focus, Dawson, he told himself.
Molly ate another bite of cake. Then sipped her coffee. “Right. Danica. For a
minute there, I almost forgot about that.”
“Me, too,” he said, sipping his own coffee. He had forgotten. “We always seem to have so much to talk about. There’s not enough hours in the day.”
She smiled. “I know what you mean.”
He recalled how that hotshot doc had asked out Danica right in the aisle of a restaurant while she’d been talking to someone else. Guys must ask her out day and night. “So given that Danica has so many dates and may likely be sick to death of men very soon, what’s my way in?”
“I have to give you the age-old advice, Zeke. To be yourself. That’s your best way in. But I can tell you that Danica absolutely hates vulgar jokes, so don’t make any in her presence.”
Ah. Exactly the type of information he was after. Molly was truly invaluable as a friend. “I don’t make vulgar jokes so we’re good there.”
“And she loves the color blue. It’s her favorite. So if you wear a blue suit or tie the day you plan to ask her out, it can’t hurt. But, of course, you’ve got the blue eyes, so you could wear neon yellow—especially since your eyes are so...” She clamped her lips together and reached for her cup of coffee.
“So what?” he asked, suddenly unable to take his eyes off her soft-looking pink lips.
“Blue,” she said quietly.
Her voice shook him out of his strange fascination with her mouth all of a sudden.
He forked a piece of cake, his gaze lingering on the way her camel-colored sweater rose up to reveal a swath of creamy bare skin. Why was he so...aware of her? Probably because he was getting to know her better and really liked her. Molly was great. Absolutely great. So of course he was noticing everything about her, the way good friends did.
“Any other tips to share?” he asked. “For beating out all the competition with Danica—getting that first date.”
She tucked a long curl behind her ear and it immediately sprang back. He smiled and reached forward, tucking it himself.
“There,” he said, a catch in his voice at how he’d touched her. He should not be touching her. Putting her hair anywhere. “Sorry,” he said, sitting up very straight. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“My hair is insane. Mind of its own. I appreciated your help actually, since that curl wasn’t minding me. Look, it listened to the boss. Staying put.” She gave her head a little shake to demonstrate his curl-tucking prowess.
He stared at her lips. Pink. Soft. So inviting.
“Ba ga!” came Lucy’s happy shout, and never had he been so happy to be interrupted by a baby.
“I know, sweetsies,” Molly said. “Almost time for stories and bed.”
He glanced over at Lucy, thinking he should get going and let Molly put her daughter to bed. He was probably keeping the baby awake. But Molly was cutting into her cake, and Lucy was playing quietly with her rabbit, chewing the tips of its teething ears. If he could just get back on track, get Molly and her lips out of his head, he could leave in peace. But right now, he was feeling...on edge.
“So anything else?” he asked. “The tips for winning Danica’s heart, I mean.” Just keep Danica Dunbar in your head and you won’t be thinking about kissing Molly. Holding her.
Molly stared at him for a moment before responding, and he wondered if she could read his mind. She couldn’t, right? She was so good at her job—in just one day—and was so smart and efficient that he wouldn’t be surprised if she had superhuman capabilities.
Now he was losing his mind.
“Well, she likes Prairie City’s bustling downtown,” Molly said. “The antiques shops and interesting restaurants. She’d prefer a day of strolling and shopping and finding a great place to eat over, say, a hike up a mountain.”
He nodded. “Note to self, do not invite Danica on a hike at the Dawson Family Guest Ranch. Though there are some amazing trails and Clover Mountain right there.”
“Well, count me right in next Sunday. I love hikes and taking proud selfies at the summit. I’ll put Lucy in her carrier. All we’ll be missing is a friendly dog.”
He had invited her to the ranch. Hmm. Maybe that was a huge mistake, given that he was having wildly inappropriate thoughts about Molly. His administrative assistant. Granted, he hadn’t yet created his company handbook and there was no official policies against dating in the office, but there should be. He was her boss and that made a relationship between them out of the question.
Not that he was even interested in Molly romantically—God, where was this crazy train of thought taking him? Wrongville, that’s where.
There’s nothing wrong with friendship. You and Molly know each other from school—it’s not as if you’d just met.
Even if he hadn’t remembered her until he saw her photo in the yearbook.
Of course she and Lucy could come to the ranch and enjoy a Sunday with him as tour guide. In fact, spending some time with Molly outside of work might actually help him shake off these...thoughts. He’d just focus on her as his admin—not as a woman. Could he ask her to wear a pantsuit and little flowery scarf to the ranch on Saturday? That would help.
Losing. His. Mind.
Clearly.
“We have two ranch dogs,” he said, trying to follow the conversation. “My brothers Axel and Rex both have amazing dogs—Dude and River. We can invite them—the dogs, not my brothers.”
“Perfect,” she said.
He stood up fast. “Well. This was great, Molly. I can’t thank you enough for all the great advice you gave me about Danica.” He was about to pass Lucy’s playpen when she stood up and held out her arms.
“Wow, she likes you,” Molly said. “You really are the baby whisperer of Wyoming.”
He liked that honor his sister had bestowed on him but now Lucy wasn’t just his admin’s baby girl who he was perfectly comfortable with. Lucy was the baby girl of a woman—a single and available woman—who had his mind going haywire. The baby’s little arms were still up, the big brown eyes glued to his face. He forced himself to relax and scooped her up. Lucy immediately grabbed his ear with a giggle.
“That’s some grip she’s got,” he said, wishing Lucy would grab on to his collar instead so it would loosen and he could breathe.
Molly grinned. “Tell me about it. It’s why I never wear my glasses anymore. She broke two pairs before I wised up and got contacts.”
He patted Lucy’s back and set her back down in the playpen. “Night, Lucy. Sweet dreams.” Who is this guy? he thought, blowing Lucy a kiss. Molly really did have him all kerfuffled.
He had dated a single mother or two early on, before he realized that he didn’t want to be a dad, and he’d always been so awkward around their kids. With Lucy, he was the way he was with his nieces and nephews. Because Molly was his friend and not a romantic interest, doting on adorable Lucy didn’t come with any expectations or strings.
Until now. But, of course, he could zap all this from his head with a cold shower and a good night’s sleep, during which he’d dream of Danica Dunbar.
Yes. Back to normal. Everything was going to be fine.
Molly walked him to the door, taking his hat from the peg while he put on his jacket. “See you tomorrow, Zeke.”
He felt a swell somewhere deep inside him at the thought. A comforting swell, a happy swell. Wait a minute. Yes. That was it.
Molly was beginning to feel like a best friend. He’d never had a female best friend and, in such a short time, his new admin had become dear to him. That was all this was. He wasn’t used to having such a close female friend so of course he’d misread his feelings. He wasn’t interested in kissing Molly or holding her. He just liked her. A lot.
She was becoming a real trusted buddy, a confidante, someone he could talk to about anything and everything. No wonder he was so happy about the idea of seeing her in the morning.
But as she handed him his hat and their finge
rs brushed, he found himself noticing her pink mouth again, how deep brown her eyes were, and he wondered, just briefly, what it would feel like to run his fingers through all that lush hair.
Uh-oh. Okay, out the door, Dawson. Now. Today had been long—his first official day at Dawson Solutions—and he was clearly tired. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of Molly in a sexual way: a) that would be wrong, and b) he was in love with her best friend. He tried to picture Danica, but for some reason, Lucy and her llama book kept floating into his head.
He definitely needed a good night’s sleep.
* * *
As Molly slid through her pantsuits in her closet, searching for the perfect second-day-at-work outfit, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Zeke had looked at her a few times earlier tonight—as though he wanted her. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to carry her off to bed. Molly hadn’t been the recipient of that look very often in her thirty-one years. And she’d been so surprised—completely caught off guard, really—that she’d almost choked on her slice of cake.
Could Zeke Dawson, man of her dreams since age twelve, tall, dark and impossibly gorgeous, have been looking at her with desire? She’d seen the smolder in his blue eyes, particularly as his gaze had dropped to her lips, where his eyes had lingered.
A slow, sweet smile lit across her face and she stared at herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door. She may not be a hot tamale but she wasn’t chopped liver. One guy she’d dated in her early twenties had told her she had the prettiest brown eyes and would burst into that song by Van Morrison whenever they met for a date. She’d soon discovered he had a song for quite a few women at the same time, but still. Another guy, who’d ended up ghosting her, had told her he found her “inexplicably sexy” but she wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.
Her ex-husband used to compliment her on individual features—her toned arms, the symmetry of her face, her feet that lacked corns or bunions. But she couldn’t recall him ever saying she was beautiful or sexy. They’d started out as friends and then began dating, though neither of them was particularly in love, and suddenly they were a couple. He was a bit older, thirty-five, and looking to settle down and he proposed by saying, We should get married and start a family. I mean, we get along great, right? And that’s what counts.
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