The Last Autograph (A Reluctant Kiss #3)

Chapter 20

20

Jake watched as Molly gathered her bag from the floor beside her. She’d not touched a thing on the cake stand, but their conversation hadn’t exactly been conducive to eating pastries while sipping tea.

He’d wanted to ask more about the challenges she’d faced, the people she’d left behind, her loves and losses. Had she been in love with his twin? Had they discussed building a life together?

Then he remembered she was only twenty at the time, barely out of high school, and way too young to be tied down. When Jake was twenty, all he wanted to do was get laid, drink beer, and go surfing.

Molly rose from the table and shouldered her bag. “I should go. Let you enjoy the rest of your day.” She glanced around the room as if saying goodbye to a space she’d never return to. “Don’t worry about driving me home. I’ll call an Uber. And thanks for the choux pastry lesson the other day… and the éclairs. In spite of the unexpected intro to your mother, I still enjoyed myself.”

The words “now or never” surfaced in Jake’s mind. He didn’t want Molly to leave, not yet. The connection he felt with her strengthened each time they met, and despite the circumstances, his need to be with her overtook all the reasons why he shouldn’t. “Any plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

She considered his question. “Not really.”

“I’m heading out to Petrie Bay. Wanna come?”

Molly moved to the window, her gaze on the tree-framed view of the harbor. She turned back to face him, her expression one of sadness. “Why are you doing this? A few days ago, you called me confused. Now, you want us to spend time together?”

“You know why.”

She hesitated. “When we first met, you could hardly look me in the eye, and at the bake-off, you were downright superior, bordering on rude at times. Then, out of nowhere, you’re giving me choux lessons, making home deliveries, and inviting me to high tea. I don’t get it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jake stayed at the table; it seemed safer somehow.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with the other contestants. In fact, you were quite charming when it suited you. So, salted pastry cream aside, why did I draw the short straw?”

Now in his thirties, Jake saw no point in playing games. Honesty held no captives; he knew that. The person he’d respected—loved—the most in life was gone, and for some unknown reason, Jesse had delivered Molly into his life. Perhaps she was meant to be there, even if for only a fleeting moment in time.

He leaned back, one hand on the handle of his cup, the other relaxed along his jawline. “I’ve always been a fan of honesty without apology, so here goes. That day I saw you walking along the waterfront with your friends—Valentine’s Day of all days—I didn’t stare at you because you looked familiar. I stared because I was interested. Then, a few weeks later, when I realized you were a contestant in the bake-off, I felt like a teenager crushing on someone way out of my league, so…”

Molly returned to the table and rested her hands on the back of the chair, so close the delicate scent of her flooded his senses with a touch of regret. She held his gaze as if urging him to say more. “You had a crush? On me? Are you serious right now?”

“You think I’m not?”

She sat back down. “I honestly don’t know what to think. Why me?”

“Why not you? You’re interesting and elegant and sexy, not to mention you have an incredibly beautiful smile.”

Molly shook her head as if the idea was absurd. “I’m sure you meet lots of women with beautiful smiles—ones more suitable to waste your time on than me. Because no matter which way you look at it, my connection with Jesse and the fact that your mother disapproves of me can’t be ignored.”

“My mother has nothing to do with how I live my life.”

“Lucky you,” she scoffed. “My mum’s all over mine, but I guess that’s part of being a parent. I suspect my parents will always be a major influence on my life.”

Jake considered her words. She was right. Close families often meddled in each other’s business, but given time, he hoped that his mother would reconsider her opinion of Molly.

“After that first day you came to see me at the patisserie,” he continued, “I tried to figure out why Jesse would throw us together as he has. It seemed an intriguing twist of fate because we were often attracted to the same girls when younger, even had the same girlfriend once when we were fifteen.”

That beautiful smile. “You did not.”

“We did.” He paused. “Anyway, my point is that, despite the complexities, I’ve thought about you—us—a lot lately, and I’d like to spend more time with you.”

“But not as just friends?”

“I don’t do so well with female friends like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I find the attraction gets in the way.”

She seemed taken aback, and he understood why. Some people didn’t appreciate his bluntness. As Molly tilted her head to one side, his thoughts went to the photo of her and Jesse on his brother’s phone. How happy she looked in their selfie world, and for a moment, he wondered how she’d interpret his request. Because even though he longed to explore the attraction between them, she was right. The elephant had well and truly entered the room.

“So who’s Ava?”

He hesitated. Frowned. “My ex-girlfriend. She lives in France.”

“When did you break up?”

“Late last year.”

“And did your mother not get the memo?”

“She did, but…”

Molly sat in silence, as if weighing up the pros and cons, and Jake waited for her to offer an excuse. After all, given his initial distrust of her and his mother’s reaction, what had he expected?

And yet, going forward, their relationship would grow only from mutual respect, but for that to happen, they had to spend time together—on her terms as well as his own.

“Thoughts?”

“I’ve never been great at spontaneous decision-making,” she murmured. “It confuses me.”

Choosing to ignore her little joke, Jake studied her pensive expression, wondering if he’d misread her interest. And as she held his gaze for several seconds, he stilled. “It’s a simple yes or no.”

“Maybe, but it’s not black and white, is it?”

“No, and for that reason, if we act on this, I need to ask you to do two things for me.”

Molly frowned. Waited.

“Don’t compare us.”

“And the second?” she asked.

“Come to the beach with me?”

She smiled now, her face finally relaxing. “What? On the Vespa?”

“I have a truck. It’s in the garage.”

“I can’t. Not today.” Molly sat forward in her chair. “And I really should get going.”

He remained sitting for a moment, then got to his feet. “Okay. I’ll give you a ride.”

The truck in question was a nineties Toyota double cab that looked like he’d swapped it for a crate of beer with a sheep farmer in the Rata River Pub up-country.

Jake opened the door for her, and she slipped inside. The smell of freshly polished leather lingered, and as Molly studied the cab’s interior, she was impressed. Immaculate—just like the man himself.

They traveled down the hill in silence, but as Jake idled at an intersection, he cast her a sideways glance. “Annabelle said you lived in New York until recently. What’s it like being back?”

Molly relaxed at this common-ground conversation etiquette. “Good. I love being home. New York’s a wonderful, crazy city, but for a country girl like me, it was kind of daunting and, if I’m honest, a little lonely at times. It’s so busy, like the week before Christmas all year round, but still, I enjoyed it mostly. How about you? Do you plan on heading back to France?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how things pan out here.”

She gazed across Carter Bay, the sky now banked with rain clouds, wondering whether he meant with the patisserie or life in general.

“Were you in a relationship in New York?” he asked.

Molly raked her fingers through her hair and shifted her attention to the traffic in front of them. “Not for long. The last guy I dated found my Kiwi accent irritating after a while and suggested I visit a vocal coach. I thought he was joking, but no. He was deadly serious.”

He took a left into her street. “It is pretty strong.”

“It is not! You’re just used to listening to all those French girls. Who can compete with that.”

As he pulled into her driveway and cut the engine, Jake chuckled, and for a moment, Molly wondered if he might lean over and kiss her. She longed to turn the tables and make that move herself, but in her world, the male always instigated the first kiss. Anything else seemed out of sync.

“Did you love him?” he murmured. “Jesse, I mean.”

Molly’s cheeks heated as his soft words flowed over her. Honesty without apology. “I was so obsessed with him that it physically hurt.” She stole a glance his way. “He was mysterious and fun, and I’d never felt an infatuation like it. But for whatever reason, he removed me from his life, and over time, I learned to accept that. Sometimes, I wondered if he realized how much he’d saddened me by ending it the way he did. And I’ve asked myself that question many times—whether I loved him—but romantic love is fraught with uncertainty at twenty, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “It can be.”

“How old were you when you first fell in love?”

“Sixteen, but that doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was too young to know better.”

Molly tossed his statement around in her head. Was he referring to Alexia? “So what are you looking for… relationship-wise, I mean?”

Jake turned to face her and offered a slow smile. “Fireworks.”

After an awkward goodbye, Molly watched Jake reverse onto the street and drive away. Pulling her jacket tighter, she glanced at the sky, that blanket of rain clouds now catching a stiff westerly breeze, and as she opened her door, her mind raced with rogue thoughts she failed to restrain.

Fireworks!

If Jake thought she was confused before, it was nothing compared to the confusion she now felt.

She grabbed her phone out of her bag when her text alert chimed, glad to see CeCe’s name on the screen. Some days their text exchanges where the one thing that kept Molly grounded.

CeCe: So how did it go with Mr Sexy Cakes?

Molly: Haha. Don’t call him that.

CeCe: Gloria started it.

Molly: It was nice. We had high tea and talked. He’s actually an OK guy.

CeCe: High tea? Fancy! That’s up a notch dating right there.

Molly: Yeah, but I was too nervous to eat and… it wasn’t a date.

CeCe: Did he mention Ava?

Molly: Only after I asked him. She’s his ex, lives in France, and they’ve been over for a few months.

CeCe: OK, well that’s a plus. And the kiss?

Molly: Conspicuous by its absence.

CeCe: *sad face* So he’s kinda slow on the uptake then?

Molly: Or simply respectful?

CeCe: Hmm. Anyway, I have to go, but let’s grab a coffee soon.

Molly: Yep. Sounds good.

Molly was just about to hop in the shower when her doorbell rang. She peeked out the kitchen window and saw the double cab parked in the driveway before opening the front door.

Jake stood in the soft evening light, that serious look on his face. “I forgot something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He looked down the drive toward the street, then back to her attention. “It’s just… this.”

She half expected him to offer her a container full of leftovers from their untouched high tea, but instead, he leaned one hand on the doorjamb, cupped her face in the other hand and kissed her. Eyes closed and up on tiptoe, Molly melted into him, his lips gentle but tongue intent.

As their kiss deepened, Jake moaned and pulled her impossibly close. There was no mistaking his desire, and she had to stop her hands from wandering south, to keep herself from touching him and, in turn, have him touch her the way no man had in a very long time.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Well, shit!”

Just as he went to kiss her again, Gloria appeared around the side of the main house, secateurs in one hand and a bunch of rosebuds in the other.

Molly pressed her fingertips to her lips as Jake stepped back.

The older woman grinned. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not,” Jake said with a smile. “I was just leaving.”

He squeezed Molly’s hand, then let go. “Goodnight, ladies.”

Face warm with an annoying blush, Molly joined Gloria in the driveway, and they both stood watching as Jake jumped into his truck and drove away.

Gloria handed her the cut flowers. “Here, you better put these in water before they wilt from that Sinclair heatwave that just passed through.”

“You are hilarious.”

“So I’ve been told. So, what’s the deal?”

As his taillights faded from view, Molly murmured, “I honestly have no idea.”

Gloria huffed. “Are you sure about that?”

Later, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, Molly mused over Jake’s complex personality. After their first few encounters, she was certain he didn’t have a tender bone in his body—yet there he was earlier, making tea and conversation like he actually enjoyed her company.

And as Molly grabbed her phone from the nightstand and slipped into bed, she wondered how many other people had witnessed the caring side of Chef Sinclair.

Molly: He came back. It was so good.

CeCe: What was?

Molly: The kiss! Not sloppy at all.

CeCe: Finally. And what do you mean by sloppy?

Molly: Alexia said Jake was a sloppy kisser.

CeCe: What??? She’s kissed him too? When was this?

Molly: Back in the day. Well that’s what she implied.

CeCe: I don’t trust her. It’s that overdone pout.

Molly: Ha. You think?

CeCe: So, is Mr Sexy Cakes your BF now? Does he whisper sweet nothings to you in French?

Molly: No to the first part, and I wish to the second.