Wyoming Cinderella

by Melissa Senate

  “Like your crush on my best friend.”

  “Exactly.” He tried to picture Danica but there was just nothing. He was really and truly over a twenty-year dream—a dream based on nothing but the superficial, he realized. “Maybe I’ve grown up, after all.” He took a sip of his drink and leaned his head back. “Maybe I should let go of everything.”

  Molly gave an exaggerated nod. “A fresh start. Looking at the world through who you are right now, not who you once were.” She lifted her margarita and took a long sip, then another, then finished it in one full swoop.

  “Definitely,” he said, feeling the warmth of the tequila in his chest. He downed the rest of his margarita, too.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off Molly’s face. And she was staring at him, her brown eyes...smoldering.

  And then they both scooted closer. Closer. Then closer still.

  “I like you so much, Molly.”

  “I like you so much, too. In fact, I—” She stopped suddenly and kissed him. Softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Driving him wild.

  Put a stop to this, he thought. Now. “I want this, Molly. Believe me, I do. But I made a promise to both of us—”

  Had that sexy beauty mark just above her right eyebrow always been there?

  She lifted her face to his. Her beautiful face.

  “Molly, we can’t kiss again. Can. Not. I’d leave like I know I should, but I guzzled the margarita and there’s no way I should drive right now. We could watch a movie and I could fall asleep in that chair.”

  “Oh, that chair is very uncomfortable. So let’s just keep kissing and you could let that excuse go, Zeke. It’s a two-person office. There’s no HR department. I’m a grown woman making my own decisions. I will write out a declaration this moment that we really and truly fell for each other and therefore had to kiss. And hopefully more.”

  “It’s not an excuse,” he countered, but his voice sounded kind of light when he meant to be serious. “It’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”

  She held his gaze and he couldn’t drag his eyes off hers. “You know, Zeke, being your admin has its advantages. Because I have a solution to our problem. A Dawson Solutions solution.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

  “Change my title so that you’re not my boss.”

  He smiled. “It’s my company. I’d still be your boss.”

  “Not if we had the same title. What’s your title, anyway? Your business card and letterhead just says Consultant.”

  “That’s my title,” he said. “I like that better than president or CEO or some other highfalutin title I could have given myself. I’m a consultant. I consult.”

  “Well, I consult, too, really. Just in a different way than you do. I consult information all day long and work up reports. I consult my laptop to keep your client files up to date. If my title is consultant and your title is consultant, how are you my boss?”

  He was dimly aware that he was giving in to this, that he was crossing a line he couldn’t backtrack from. “Okay, Molly, I just changed your title. You’re now a consultant at Dawson Solutions.”

  A slow, satisfied smile spread across her beautiful face. “Yes. And you are my sole client.”

  Her sexy voice lured him closer. She was so tantalizingly close, her lips just an inch away.

  “So you’re not my boss anymore, Zeke. That means we can kiss all we want. And anything else.”

  A very low-sounding alarm went off in the back of his head but he was too taken with Molly’s pink lips and the pure desire in her eyes to pay attention to it.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, one hand winding in her lush hair while the other drew her to him. She kissed him so passionately that he allowed himself to lean back against the sofa. The loosened tie was flung off. His shirt was next.

  Then hers. He sucked in a breath at the sight of her lacy black bra. Sexy, sexy, sexy.

  The next thing he knew, they were in her bed in a tangle of sheets and down comforter. Naked. Exploring.

  And everything Zeke had been reining in for weeks let loose.

  “Oh, Zeke,” Molly moaned into his ear.

  And all he could think about was how very right everything about this felt right now.

  * * *

  The sun was rising when Molly woke up, a grin on her face like she was Sally when Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal finally slept together in When Harry Met Sally.

  But when she glanced over at Zeke, naked next to her in her bed, he looked just like Harry had: staring at the ceiling in a state of wide-eyed absolute shock—and regret.

  Oh, foo. This was not the face of a man in love. A man who’d made love to the woman he realized he’d loved all along.

  This was a man who was about to break her heart.

  She sucked in a breath and let it out. “How long have you been staring at the ceiling, looking like you just made the worst mistake of your life?”

  He sat up and looked at her, something close to torment in his eyes. Just what every woman wanted to see in the face of the man she loved after they had sex for the first time. “Molly, I—”

  “Shouldn’t have done this, can’t do this, let’s pretend this never happened. Do I have that right?”

  He leaned his head back. “This is why I should never drink. One too-strong margarita and my inhibitions went out the window. Judgment canceled. Common sense gone.” He shook his head.

  “Except last night was amazing,” she said, trying to keep the air of positivity she felt instead of the reality lying beside her. “Admit it.”

  “Yes, it was amazing. I had no doubt it would be. But it doesn’t change anything, Molly.”

  “I’m a consultant, not your admin. Everything’s fine now.”

  That got a brief, sad smile out of him. “Except it’s not fine. I’m not...” He stopped talking and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re a...”

  Tears welled but then anger blinked them away. “A what? A mother? A package deal? Damned straight I am.”

  “And...” He looked truly pained at least. “I’ve been honest about where I am on that.”

  She frowned, not wanting to hear this. She wanted him to be past this. Because she was worth it.

  He took her hand. “You need someone who can offer you forever, someone who wants to be Lucy’s stepfather. I’m not that person. I never was.”

  She slipped her hand away. “So you said. Many times. I see otherwise in you.”

  “That’s not really fair, though. Is it?”

  Tears threatened. She couldn’t take this.

  He slid his legs to his side of the bed and grabbed his clothes.

  Dammit. “I’m officially calling in sick, Zeke. Right now.”

  He turned and touched her face, then got out of bed and quickly dressed.

  “I’m sorry, Molly. I am.”

  Don’t be sorry. Be who you really are—not who you’re hiding behind.

  Or maybe that was wishful thinking—again—on her part all this time. He was right—he had told her over and over and she didn’t want to believe it.

  I love you, Zeke Dawson, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. And I know you have serious feelings for me. Are you really just going to let me go?

  “Come back to the office when you feel ready, Molly,” he said. “I need you and I don’t want anything to come between our great working relationship. I’ll understand if you feel otherwise, though.” He let out a breath. “I messed up.”

  Humph, she thought. She couldn’t speak.

  She just flopped back against the pillows.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and then was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Oh, Molly,” Danica said. “I wish you’d told me about your feelings for Zeke all along. I cou
ld have been a support for you.”

  The two of them sat at the round table in Molly’s kitchen, sipping the fancy hot coffee drinks Danica had brought over after Molly had called her a half hour ago, sobbing, at 7:15 in the morning. Her friend had also brought bagels with cream cheese and apricot Danish, Molly’s favorite pastry.

  Molly had left one big part out of what she’d shared with Danica: Zeke’s longtime crush on her friend. Given that it was over now and that Danica would only feel bad for Molly’s sake and quite possibly upset about the whole thing, Molly thought it was best to just keep it to herself. This was about her feelings for Zeke. And her broken heart.

  “I know he has feelings for me,” Molly said, biting into her Danish. “But he’s so controlled by his past that he won’t let himself have a future. It sucks.”

  Danica nodded and took a sip of her mocha latte. “It does. But I have a good feeling that Zeke will come around.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because until now, I don’t think Zeke Dawson has ever been in love before,” Danica said. “It’s all new to him. He’s probably never had his feelings for a woman pitted against that past before. Now it is.”

  Did Zeke love her? “So you think he just needs time? What if he chooses to be alone instead? What if he doesn’t pick love?”

  “He won’t really have a choice. A man in love can’t stay away. Being without you will be a hell of a lot worse than actually facing down his fears over marriage and parenthood.”

  Molly almost smiled. But she wasn’t too sure about that.

  “I told him I was taking a sick day,” she said. “But maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should be right there, front and center in his office.”

  “I’m not a hundred percent on this, but I say take the day off. You both need a little space right now and some time to let this sit. Go in fresh tomorrow.”

  Molly sipped her coffee, the caffeine helping. “You’re right. Thanks for coming over, Danica—especially at the crack of dawn in the freezing cold.”

  “Of course. Want me to bring lunch over later?”

  “Nah, I’ll be okay. Call me on a break, though.”

  “Will do.” Danica bent down and wrapped her arms around Molly. “That man will be your husband someday. Mark my words.”

  Molly imagined herself in a wedding gown and veil, walking down the aisle to Zeke. Her heart stirred. She liked those words but she wouldn’t hold her breath on that one. Still, she felt a lot better now. Thank heavens for girlfriends.

  Once Danica left, Molly nibbled her pastry and finished her coffee, then took a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d drive over to Prairie City with Lucy and do a little shopping, have lunch at her parents’ taco truck and distract herself from the ache in her chest.

  By eleven, Molly was in Prairie City with Lucy. At noon, they headed into the independent bookstore for their daily Story Time, which Molly only usually got to attend on weekends. She found a spot on the colorful round rug at the back of the shop, many other parents and little ones there, including a couple with their arms entwined, their toddler on Dad’s lap, Mom’s hand on her six-ish-months pregnant belly. Another couple sat with their baby in Dad’s arms. And yet another couple had twin toddlers, one on each lap. The Story Time leader took photos, tradition for the daily activity, and Molly loved seeing her and Lucy’s pictures sometimes posted on the store’s blog.

  Lucy on her lap, Molly smiled as the camera stopped on her. What’s different about this picture? she muttered to herself. Sometimes, when she was in this type of environment, happy intact families all around her, she wanted to cry. Single odd mom out. Alone. Partnerless. And warranted or not, she’d hear in her head: Oh, poor Lucy from a broken home...

  Lucy had a father who loved and cared about her and was there for her, plus a kind stepmother, who Molly had grudgingly stopped hating because she was wonderful with Lucy. Her baby girl had lots of family who loved her on both sides. But Molly wanted a life partner, a husband, a rock, someone who’d be equally as wonderful to her baby girl.

  She’d fought so hard to get over Tim’s affair and the divorce. Now she was fighting to make another man see that he loved her? That he would be a great dad?

  What the hell? She deserved better than that. She’d done her work on herself like Oprah had been talking about for years. Now it was Zeke’s turn.

  * * *

  For Zeke, the next few days were the pits. Molly had come back to work the following day, professional as always, neutral-pleasant expression, no lingering looks. She did her work, kept her head down, left for lunch at twelve thirty and returned at one fifteen. Then she’d make herself a cup of her favorite chocolate-hazelnut coffee and scroll through her phone, reading her social media accounts. Then at one thirty she’d get back to work.

  She wasn’t ignoring him, per se. She acknowledged him when he came in each morning. She gave him a brief smile as he passed her in and out of the office. But she was ignoring him. He felt the deep freeze in the office and he hated it. He missed his Molly so much that he hadn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time since their night together.

  And just when he couldn’t take it another minute, it was Saturday and he wouldn’t see her at all for two days. At least during the week she’d be sitting at her desk.

  Zeke flopped over in his bed, pulling the pillow over his head like he used to as a kid when he didn’t like what was going on. At least he had a busy day. At ten, he’d give his talk at the Teen Rancher’s Summit and he had Dawson Solutions work to do today, as well.

  He finally got out of bed and took a shower, going over his speech in his head so he wouldn’t think about Molly. Then he had two mugs of strong coffee out on the back deck, the cold, crisp February air a good jolt. At 9:45 he left the cabin and headed toward the lodge, a gorgeous white clapboard building with a steep roof just a quarter mile away. The summit was being held in the second-floor event room, which overlooked Clover Mountain and land and trees as far as the eye could see. His grandparents had originally built this lodge fifty-two years ago, and his gramps used to take the six of them up here when it was too cold to play outside and let them race around on Rollerblades and skateboard to their hearts’ content. A few times his gramps had found him standing by the big window, taking in the view, and Gramps would give him the history and stories about Clover Mountain. Whenever he’d visited the ranch over the past year, this view would fill him up, restore something in him. He never understood what exactly. He just knew the view was about peace for him. Maybe because it was connected to his grandfather, not his father.

  Now, as he entered the lodge and headed past the Kid Zone, he could just make out boisterous voices of happy kids playing. He was suddenly struck by a memory, of his grandfather telling him a story about Axel’s favorite goat, Flash, getting loose and running into the mountain and how their dad had taken Axel to find Flash, staying up there past midnight till the goat was brought down safely. His dad was a heavy drinker even then, and even at nine, ten years old, Zeke would understand that his grandfather’s stories about Bo Dawson were to make them both wary of his father’s faults and appreciative of his good points.

  You’ll understand your dad better when you have children of your own, he recalled his grandfather saying more than once, particularly when he was a young teenager. Life is complicated but wonderful.

  I’m never having kids. No way, Zeke had said. His grandparents had passed when he was fifteen, and he could recall the anguish and the doubling down on the vow never to have a family of his own. Bo Dawson had been drunk at his parents’ funeral, barely able to stand. His six kids had been equally furious and understanding. But that day had seeped inside Zeke’s cells. He was his father’s son and why create a new family only to disappoint them and hurt them because they’d love you no matter what the hell you did. That was family, wasn’t it?

  Zeke sucked in a br
eath and tried to clear his head and fill it with his talk today. Money. Business. Entrepreneurial spirit. How the future started now—if you planned for it.

  When Zeke walked in, his sister-in-law Sara, the forewoman, was wrapping up her talk about general ranch management. Sara knew her stuff, and the applause she’d gotten, including wolf whistles from a group of teenage girls, made him smile. The kids were sitting at round tables with water bottles and snacks, banquet-style, and there was a table at the front of the room, meant for sitting on so the talk wouldn’t feel like school or a lecture.

  Noah introduced Zeke to the crowd—twenty-seven kids between thirteen and eighteen. He looked out the window perpendicular to the tables, Clover Mountain in the near distance doing its magic, restorative work on him. And then he sat down on the table, placing his Stetson beside him, and welcomed the teens, talking to them openly and honestly as Noah had suggested, mining his own memories as a teenager to relate his talk to their lives.

  “As my brother said, I’m Zeke Dawson, and I moved back to Bear Ridge recently to open my own business, helping other businesses and their owners become success stories. I believe that everyone can become a success story—no matter where you start out. As you know from hearing Noah’s talk, my family had it rough for a number of years. Our father was an alcoholic who drank away grocery money. I can’t count the times my siblings and I, as teenagers, had to use all our strength to pull our father—dead drunk and dead weight—into the house so he wouldn’t freeze to death.”

  He took a breath and glanced out at the mountain. “When things in your life seem too hard to surmount, when you think there’s nothing more for you out there so you might as well make trouble for yourself, I’m here to tell you that there’s always going to be something that flips a switch in you. Maybe it’s there now. Something you love doing. Playing soccer. Drawing. Chemistry class. Animals. You can take that thing you love and let it take you far and away. For me, that passion was business. Why does one pizza place do well and another fails? That’s the question I like to answer. So when I was a junior in high school, I got a job at a pizzeria in town and studied what the owner did and why. My job was cleaning tables and mopping the floor, but I watched and learned and earned a heck of a lot more from that job than my lousy paycheck.”