Gosh, am I that obvious?
“What’s going on with you and him anyway? Details, woman,” Mackenzie demanded.
“I’m not even sure I know what’s going on. We went out to dinner last week and we kind of got into a little argument,” Molly started to explain.
“Oh boy, Molly, why?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Me, mostly, being oversensitive and moody, per usual.”
Mackenzie rubbed Molly’s arm and said, “You can’t always be so down on yourself. Maybe he was to blame. It’s not always you.”
“Yeah, right. Trust me. It is.” Molly felt her eyes starting to burn at the hint of tears and tried to blink them away. “So he gave me a couple days to cool off then showed up here.”
Mackenzie cocked her head to the side and asked, “Why? To say he was sorry?”
“He brought coffee and he sort of apologized. He explained it like this—that couples fight and couples make up.”
“Ah, so he brought a peace offering and used the word couple, which freaked you out, right?”
“Kind of. I mean, I wasn’t aware that we were even stepping foot in that direction yet.”
“That’s because you always drag your feet. So, what else happened? Obviously something,” Mackenzie pressed, still stroking Molly’s arm soothingly.
Molly let out a long sigh. She could almost taste Owen on her lips as she relived that primal kissing and remembered how turned on she’d been. “We made out.”
Mackenzie shook her head. “And this is bad how?”
“It’s not. Like I said, it’s me that is the problem.”
“So you’re making out with this supposedly great guy that has thrown a fish at you and brings coffee regularly, so now that I’m up to speed, then what?”
“I panicked and sort of made him leave.” Molly cringed at the memory.
“Have you heard from him?”
Molly shook her head and said, “Nope. I think I may have screwed everything up. I hate me sometimes.”
“Oh, babes, don’t be like that. He obviously sees what we see if he keeps trying to come around and wants to put up with you.” They both laughed and Mackenzie hugged Molly, whispering, “You are so worth putting up with, and he’d be a fool to give up.”
After Mackenzie let her go, Molly decided to shift the conversation toward a matter that was really weighing heavy on her heart—Tiffany.
“So, are you going to call her soon?”
Molly watched as Mackenzie’s back stiffened.
“Why should I call her?”
“Because she’s one of your best friends, and this has gone on long enough.”
“I know. It’s just that it’s a little different with her and me. It’s not like us.”
“We have all been friends for a long time. I love both of you, and I know you guys love each other, too.” Molly knew deep down—heck, really, just right below the surface—they did love each other. Did they get on each other’s nerves? Absolutely, but they were like sisters, weren’t they? And getting on each other’s nerves was what sisters did. Molly assumed anyway… She had a brother, and he got on her nerves all the time, but she still loved him with all her heart. She adored her friends equally, and they weren’t even related.
“Molly, can we talk about something else? Anything else? Like maybe about how you should be calling Owen right now?”
She had her work cut out for her, but she wanted to get Mackenzie and Tiffany back together soon. She couldn’t bear the thought of not spending another Friday with both of them—well, unless maybe she spent it with Owen. Molly was surprised when that thought slipped so easily into her mind. She really needed to reach out to him, to fix things.
* * * *
Monday was filled with more radiant sunshine and gloriously warm weather. Molly had tried to call Owen, but it had gone straight to voicemail. After having a couple of good nights’ sleep and feeling the energy from the sun’s brilliant rays, she felt perky and ready to conquer the world—well, the immediate Seattle area, at least. What Molly also had was a solid game plan. After stopping at her favorite coffee shop that was only a little way from the fish market, she decided to go to him, armed with one regular and one decaf coffee. She’d even bought an assortment of cookies that no one in their right mind could say no to, and she was hopeful that bribery worked on Owen as easily as it did on her.
As she came up to the scene of the crime from only a few weeks ago, where she had been clobbered by a fish that would change her fate and where she’d gazed into the sexiest eyes she’d ever seen, Molly balanced the coffees and started to search for Owen. When she finally caught sight of him, he was wearing a black rubber apron and an enormous smile as he spoke to another guy. Molly froze. Suddenly her nerves and ridiculous self-doubt took hold of her, clouding her sunny disposition. It was too late to turn tail and scurry away. Owen was staring at her now with a mixture of confusion and amusement. He said something to the guy next to him then slipped from behind the counter. She watched as he removed the apron and slowly made his way through the small crowd toward her with a sexy grin that made her unsteady. The effect this man had on her was unreal.
When Owen was suddenly in front of her, he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. He bent down, kissed her on the head then pulled her toward him, completely circling her with his arms. “You brought coffee,” he finally said.
“Decaf—and some cookies.” Molly smiled up at him. The sea of nerves finally calmed as she gazed into his eyes. The weight of his arms around her made her feel secure and the reaction of her body to his reminded her how much she wanted this nearness.
“Let’s go sit somewhere.” He led her outside the market and away from the tourists and shoppers. He located a bench that gave a slight view of the water and took the coffee from her.
They sat and started to nibble on their cookies in silence—not awkward, but comfortable.
Molly spoke first. “I’m just not good at this, you know.” She pointed at the two of them, not making eye contact as she continued, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Owen, for how I acted on Friday.”
He held his cup to his mouth and said, “No need to apologize.”
“But I feel like I need to.”
“Why? You’re here now. That says it all to me, babe.”
Is it really that simple? Why did she always have to overanalyze and look for problems that probably weren’t even there? She needed to learn how to just go with it. If he said they were good, then why challenge it?
Owen reached over and took her hand in his.
Just go with it, Molly.
With that decision made, she relaxed and enjoyed their time together until it was time to get back to her work. After she returned to her studio, she was humming as she clicked on a photo to edit. Molly felt at ease and happy. Spending that small amount of time with Owen had been enough to repair whatever damage she’d thought she’d done. They were good—beyond good, even. Owen had asked her to meet him for dinner later and Molly hadn’t even hesitated or tried to come up with some sad excuse. She’d just gone with it. She was immeasurably proud of herself, and, if she could just stay out of her mind, Molly knew she’d have a halfway decent shot at making this relationship work. She now had a goal—not to overthink and just to go with the flow. She deserved a chance at happiness and, bad luck be damned, Molly was sure as heck going to give it a try.
* * * *
Owen was sexy, and he was also punctual. Molly? Not so much. She was still trying to shove her legs into skinny jeans that made her look anything but skinny when Owen buzzed the door to her apartment. Crap.
“Be right there,” she shouted from her bedroom as she slid her feet into sparkly black flats. Molly paused in front of her full-length mirror for a moment. Not too shabby. The purple blouse that she wore hung loose. The dark-wash blue jeans clung to her legs, and her shoes were cute. Molly scrunched her hair in a feeble attempt to revive her sad excuse for curls. The
dark waves were still pretty, but the bouncy spiral curls that she’d tried to create had already fallen flat.
Her doorbell rang out again and she hurried to the door. She inhaled before opening it. There stood Owen in a plaid shirt with an array of slate blues and white that did wonders for his steely-gray eyes. He wore relaxed jeans and his hair was still damp from a shower. Molly breathed in again and was welcomed with the scent of aftershave and soap, all masculine and driving Molly’s senses into overdrive.
Calm yourself, girl. The night hasn’t even started.
“Hi.” Molly winced at how breathy her voice came out. And, besides that, she could feel her nipples tightening and that tell-tale dampness starting in her jeans.
“Hi, yourself.” Owen moved in slowly. He knew exactly what he was doing. He could probably hear her heart beating against her chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage. Owen smiled at her, almost as if he was getting a kick out of watching her become flustered.
“Um, want to come in for a minute or are you ready to go?” Molly asked nervously.
“You may want to put these in some water,” he advised as he handed her a bouquet of Gerber daisies that were a vibrant orange. How had she missed those? Had they been behind his back the whole time?
“Those are beautiful. Thank you. Well, come in for a bit while I find a vase.” Molly accepted the flowers as Owen trailed after her into the apartment. “So what’s the game plan for tonight?”
“I was thinking maybe we could keep it simple—drinks or dinner, maybe a movie. What are you in the mood for? Lady’s choice.” Owen shrugged. He seemed so large in her tiny space.
After finding a vase under her sink that could hold the flowers, Molly stood and thought about where they could go. A movie after dinner might be nice. It had been a while since she had seen one in a theater. The thought of popcorn and maybe some licorice was holding a lot of appeal, but could her skinny jeans handle that kind of junk food consumption? Not likely.
“Do you want to go out? You seem to be having some trouble trying to decide what you want to do,” Owen asked.
“No, I do. I’m just trying to think where to go. You’re the guy. Shouldn’t you have had this all squared away and decided?” Molly tossed the ball back into his court.
“Good point.” Owen nodded then his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it. Let’s go.”
And she had to admit that it was exciting not to know where they were headed, but it was even more fun when she realized what he’d chosen.
It was loud. Fun, but loud. No matter which one you went to, they were all the same. A bowling alley was a bowling alley—cheap beer, that weird funky smell from rented shoes, the hard, curved plastic seats and the obnoxious competitive spirit it brought out in everyone. Dinner turned out to be a greasy hamburger and fries, but Owen couldn’t have picked anything more fun to do that night.
“You are so getting your butt handed to you,” Molly said playfully as she grabbed the lime-green ball. Owen sat with his hand wrapped around a dark beer bottle as he nodded encouragingly at her, practically daring her.
She inched up to the slick and gleaming wood floor and looked down the lane at the pins. She could do this. Think strike. And after sending the ball down the lane with all her might, Molly watched her ball roll into the gutter. It hadn’t even made it halfway.
“Now what was that about handing my butt to me?” Owen asked as Molly returned to grab her ball again. “Need me to blow on it for luck, since you seem to be having so much trouble?”
“You know, that might not be such a bad idea.” Molly raised her ball to him.
“Seriously?” Owen laughed. “Anything for my Molly.” He blew on the ball and Molly quickly turned around to see if it had worked its magic.
Strike. Just like that, the ball had sailed smoothly down the lane, straight for the pins, knocking them all over with almost expert precision.
“Oh my God, did you see that?” Molly squealed. She ran to Owen, who had a happy but shocked look on his face. Molly wrapped her arms around his waist. He circled his arms around her. “I think you might be my good luck charm.”
“Think? Babe, there’s no other way you would have gotten that strike.”
Molly slapped his chest. “You’re so mean to me.”
“Am not. How many strikes did you get before that?” Owen raised his eyebrow at her.
Molly bit her lip. He had a point there. “You know…they really should give some kind of extra points for the most gutter balls.”
“They do.” Owen bent down and kissed Molly softly. Her belly pooled up with warmth. Her lips zinged with electricity when they connected with his.
“I like gutter balls.” Molly giggled.
Owen looked at her. “I like you.”
Chapter Seven
She was focusing on the color saturation of the image in front of her when the chirp of Molly’s cell phone interrupted her concentration.
She noticed it was Mackenzie and she answered, not hiding her giddiness. “Hey, lady, what’s up?”
“Oh God, Molly.”
The sound of Makenzie’s voice through phone alarmed her. It was filled with strangled emotion. Something was very wrong. “Mac, what’s going on?”
“My sister’s been in an accident. Oh God, Molly.” Her voice trailed off and was replaced with hard sobbing.
“Are you at the hospital? Is she okay?” Molly knew that if her sister was all right, Mackenzie wouldn’t be calling like this. Her gut bottomed out. This was bad, very bad.
“Can you come to the hospital please?” Mackenzie managed.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Molly…are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.” Molly waited for Mackenzie to speak. The brief pause worried her even more.
“Can you call Tiffany and bring her with you?”
“Yes, I’ll call her right now, okay? I’ll call you when we get there.” Molly hung up. As sick as she felt with distress, she couldn’t deny her happiness at the silver lining and possible end to a senseless war. Mackenzie wanted Tiffany.
She dialed Tiffany’s number and waited as it rang a couple of times.
“Hey, you,” Tiffany answered, her voice cheerful and bubbly.
“Tiffany, Mackenzie just called. Her sister’s been in an accident,” Molly started to explain.
“Oh, no. Is she okay?” The cheeriness was now replaced with genuine concern.
“I don’t think so. Mackenzie asked me to call you and for us to come to the hospital.”
“Um, okay, no problem. Do you just want me to meet you there or do you want to pick me up? I’m still at work,” Tiffany said.
“I’ll swing by and grab you.”
“Yeah, that works. Gosh, I hope her sister is going to be all right. How was Mac?”
“Like…barely able to speak, so I think we need to prepare ourselves. It might be kind of rough when we get there.”
“I’m glad she asked for me to come too.”
“Tiffany, you guys are best friends. We all are. She needs us right now, so of course she’d want you there.”
“And I want to be. I love Mackenzie. She just makes me mad sometimes. But I have her back anytime she needs me.”
“Well, she needs us now.” Molly sighed. They had been through serious stuff before, but from the way Mackenzie had sounded, this was going to be rough, and she needed their support. “I’m leaving now. I’ll see you in ten minutes or so.”
“Okay. I’ll be outside.”
Molly hung up and gathered her purse. She prayed out loud. It wasn’t something she did often, and she always felt a tad guilty. But right now, she knew that Mackenzie needed all the prayers she could get.
* * * *
Hospitals were all the same—that sick, sterile disinfectant smell, the neutral-painted hallways, bright overhead lights and glossy floors. Molly hated hospitals. She knew Mackenzie was not a fan, either. She had already lost both her parents before she’d met Molly
, and her sister was her only relative left. Molly’s heart ached for Mackenzie and the fear she must be feeling. The thought made Molly quicken her pace to the front desk, Tiffany keeping up with her, a stoic expression on her face. She had been quiet the entire ride over. Molly hadn’t bothered with chit-chat and had focused on weaving her way through the heavy mid-afternoon traffic to just get them there as quickly and safely as possible.
When they reached the information desk, a petite woman wearing colorful scrubs smiled at them. Molly rattled off her request for help and the woman quickly gave her the information on where to locate Mackenzie. She was in the ICU. This was definitely not good.
Stepping into an elevator, Molly started to grow emotional. She told herself to pull it together, to be brave for Mackenzie and be the rock that she knew Mackenzie would need.
“Shit, the ICU?” Tiffany finally said after Molly pressed the button to the correct floor.
“I know.” It was all she could manage.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Relief flooded Molly as she bounded out. They hadn’t needed to walk far when Molly caught sight of Mackenzie. She was standing in a small waiting room off to the side of the elevators. Her head was down. Her blonde hair hanging around her face was a little tangled, not in its usual perfect style. She was looking at her phone intently, probably wondering where the heck they were. Mackenzie looked out of place and completely oblivious to her surroundings.
“Mackenzie,” Tiffany called out, surprising Molly.
Mackenzie looked up. Her eyes were puffy red circles and her pale skin was blotchy. She looked like hell—completely fragile—and it broke Molly’s heart. She wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and hold her tightly. The woman standing in front of her was not the strong and confident woman who always claimed to have all the answers. The person before her was utterly destroyed. It only killed Molly more when Mackenzie burst into ugly and uncontrollable sobbing. Tiffany raced past Molly and grabbed Mackenzie, pulling her into an embrace. Molly joined them, creating a tight circle, just as it should be, the three of them. She could feel the vibrations move through her as Mackenzie was racked with harsh crying and slight moaning. Molly couldn’t quite make out what it was that Mackenzie was saying. Apparently neither could Tiffany, who looked at Molly for help.
Reeling in Love Page 8
