Chapter 17
JEFF
“Call in sick.”
Molly stares at me. “I’ve only worked at this job for a few months.”
“I’m very aware. But you’re amazing at it, and nobody is going to care if you skip today.” I take her hands in mine. “It’s my only day off in two weeks. I want to spend time with you. I want to show you my house. I want to take you shopping.”
“For what?”
“Anything. Everything. What do you need?”
“I need to go to work.”
We compromise by spending time together in her little shower, and then we both go to work.
Together … ish.
In separate vehicles, but I follow her closely and park right next to her so we walk in at the same time.
“See?” I say as I hold the door for her. “We could have driven together. Nobody even noticed—”
“What are you doing here, Coach?” One of our analytics guys gives me a surprised double take.
Molly slips away, casting one final glance over her shoulder before she rounds the corner and disappears.
“I wanted to watch some tape,” I say, and it’s true enough, because I can never watch enough video footage.
He lights up.
And that’s fine. I can review footage of the team coming into town for three games starting tomorrow while I scheme to get Molly out of work for the afternoon.
Two hours later, she appears in the doorway of the meeting room I’m in. And because I’m not alone, she doesn’t say what she really wants to say—but from the blaze in her pretty eyes, I can guess what my wife is thinking.
She doesn’t appreciate me pulling strings to get her all to myself.
“Ms. Henderson,” I say innocently. “Are you here to give me a social media lesson?”
“If you’re too busy, we can postpone this,” she says sweetly.
“Never too busy for our hard-working PR team.” I stand up. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
When we’re alone in the hallway, Molly lowers her voice to a bossy but not displeased note. “You emailed Helen??? And told her that you wanted an afternoon of lessons from me?”
“Yep.”
“Jeff!”
“I’m not going to be sorry for that. You didn’t want to skip work. Now you aren’t.”
She pulls out her phone. “Okay, let’s work.”
I roll my eyes.
She taps the screen. “What does your day off look like, Coach?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I try not to spend it here.”
From behind the camera, she gestures to the door. “Then let’s go. Show me where you prefer to spend your day away from the ballpark.”
She records me heading out to the parking lot, but then she thankfully puts her phone away and agreeably lets me open the passenger side door for her.
So I push my luck and slide my arm in front of her, blocking her from getting in. “I want to take you shopping.”
She gives me a curious look. “Why?”
Which makes me admit something funny. “I don’t really know.”
That makes her smile, and God damn it, but Molly smiling takes my breath away.
My voice turns rough. “Just a desperate desire to spoil you. And maybe to get to know you too. Do you like books? Clothes?”
Her smile turns slightly devilish. “Groceries.”
“To the grocery store, then.”
In my car, she brings up work again. “We might as well talk about how you use social media to make this legitimate.”
“I don’t want to do more than I do right now.”
“I want you to do more.”
“Fuck.”
She laughs. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I’m glad you can be honest with me.” I steer out of the parking lot, turning away from the direction she would go to go home. “I was thinking we could hit the store by my place, and then you might want to check out my house?”
Her eyebrows lift, a funny look on her face. “Is that where we’re going to film a month’s worth of content?”
“Not at all.”
She nods. “That was a joke.”
“Ah.” I pause. “It was funny.”
“Generally, people laugh at funny things.” Her lips twitch.
I chuckle. “That was funny too.”
“So … showing me your house, huh? Must be serious.”
“My wife has jokes,” I mutter.
“I sure do. But seriously, I do want to see your home.”
“It can be our home if you like it.”
“Our—” She sucks in a breath. “Oh.”
It’s hard to know how to navigate this. On the one hand, we’re already lobbing around the wife and husband terms—and meaning them—but on the other, we’re still getting to know each other.
And the reminder that married couples generally live together seems to have taken her by surprise.
I take a deep breath, ignoring the way my chest gets tight at the fear that she might not be all in. “One thing at a time. First, groceries. What do you want to get?”
Her mouth falls open, then snaps shut.
I wait.
“I didn’t think that far ahead,” she admits. “It just seemed more practical than …”
“Books?”
“Okay, no, books are great. We could go shopping for books for our second date.”
“Is this a date, then?” I grin at her. “What about tacos?”
She blushes. “Oh, right. Books can be our third date.”
That’s better. The tight band of tension around my chest eases. “What do you want to do for our fourth?”
“Movie.” She bites her lip. “Can you go to the movies?”
My shoulders shake. “Yeah, baby, I can go to the movies.” I reach across and brush my fingertips against the back of her neck. “What do you want to see?”
“I don’t know.” She looks so pleased as she relaxes into my touch. “I just like the idea of sharing popcorn and then having something to talk about after.”
“Any candy?”
“Maybe. Chocolate?”
“And gummies. In the popcorn.”
She gasps. “No.”
“Yep. I love that salty sweet combination.”
“Horrifying.” But she says it so warmly it feels like a compliment.
“We can put popcorn, chocolate, and gummies on our shopping list.” I pull into the parking lot of a nice grocery store that I like because they have a good prepared-foods section, and I rarely need more than that.
Molly takes a deep breath.
I squeeze the back of her neck, then have to let go so I can park.
Inside, she pulls out her phone. “I want to take a quick video of you buying vegetables.”
I laugh. “Not candy?”
“Maybe both.” She winks. “Balance.”
“What vegetables?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“That was my way of asking what you like in a salad.”
“Oh.” She blushes again.
I tug her close, curving my hand around the back of her neck.
“I like how tall you are,” I murmur before I kiss her on the mouth.
She squeaks and then kisses me back, exhaling in a rush, sweet and warm against my lips. “We can’t put the PDA on your socials.”
“Definitely not. Your kisses are mine and mine alone,” I growl against her mouth, then step back a little, but I don’t let go of the back of her neck. “Do you like salad?”
“Uh …” Her eyes sparkle. “Yes.”
“Carrots?”
“Yeah.”
“Cabbage?”
“Sure.”
“Cucumber—”
“Jeff, you can buy anything you want, and I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it delicious. Together.”
I kiss her again. “I like the way you say my name.”
“It’s a nice name.” Her lips twitch.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Molly.”
“I was just thinking that I can’t call you Grandpa in public, that would raise too many questions.”
“You can’t call me Grandpa anywhere.”
“Agree to disagree.” She kisses my cheek this time. “How do you feel about fruit in salad?”
“Seems unnecessary.”
“Wow, we really don’t have anything in common beyond kissing and enjoying that we’re both tall,” she says dryly.
I grin. “You like that I’m tall?”
Her gaze sparks with arousal. “Mm-hmm.”
“I think we can build on that. Did you play any sports in college, or were you strictly a theater kid?”
“Rugby and volleyball.”
A very clear, very arousing image of Molly in little shorts and a rugby shirt fills my mind. “Mmm.”
She giggles. “I wasn’t very good. But I was very enthusiastic.”
“I bet you were the best teammate.” Dragging in a deep breath, I slide her in front of me, muttering about my erection and needing to focus on vegetables. Celery? Lettuce? Whatever? “And no, you can’t record me right now.”
We laugh our way through the produce section.
In the deli, we find more common ground.
“We both like cheese,” I say.
“Who doesn’t like cheese?”
“Half of the professional athletes you work with.”
“Weirdos,” she mutters. And then she pauses. “Unless they’re lactose intolerant. I understand—”
I cut her off. “But I like your honest opinions. I like them a lot. You’re so kind, but I don’t want you to think you need to pull your real thoughts with me.”
And then I kiss her deeply. At this rate, I’m going to get kicked out of the store for making out with my young wife. I don’t care.
She winds her arms around my neck, laughing against my lips, laughing as my tongue slides into her mouth briefly, laughing as she pulls away and bites her lip.
Yeah, we need to get to my place.
Immediately.