Chapter 18
GAVIN
Gavin didn’t bring a novel.
He arrived at the coffee shop where they’d agreed to meet about thirty minutes before their scheduled time, just in case Molly got there early. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable and bolt.
He had a gut feeling that she was yay-far away from running.
In fact, he’d spent the whole night worried that might happen. Wondering what she was doing? If she was awake? The one thing he’d realized while he was away from her
was that he didn’t want her to run before they got a solid shot at them.
Now, he just had to figure out how to make that happen.
Stepping through the door, the jingle bells clanked against the glass behind him.
The espresso machine hissed, Coldplay crooned, and Gavin let the vibe seep in.
A good vibe. The coffee shop was in a historic building on a slow corner near downtown.
Used to be a bank—this was clear because there was still a bronze plaque in the concrete out front to tell the history of the building. The room behind the
barista stand had also once clearly been a vault.
A long, mahogany bar-type counter stretched along one side of the room with a pastry case at the end. Muffins, scones, croissants, and cookies all had their place in the case. Though, at the end of the day, there wasn’t much left of that goodness.
Tables filled the rest of the space with a handful of booths near the back of the room, away from the windows. That’s what he’d snag for their date—one of the booths.
Out of the way, and perfect for the conversation they needed to have so they could move forward without all the pretend. He’d committed himself to be alone and time to process.
But during their WebTV appearance, Molly walked right through that red tape he’d placed across his heart. Right through it and to the center.
The line for caffeine was ten people deep, and the shop wasn’t too big. Maybe it was a good thing he arrived early? He’d been here many times, but he’d never taken the time to study the menu before. He knew what he liked—
Americano, no cream, a little sugar.
But tonight he felt like something new. Something—
Gavin moved aside to let a group through the opening in the line. They poured onto the sidewalk patio with their paper cups and plastic lids.
He turned back to the line, his gaze stopping briefly on blonde hair near the front that looked remarkably familiar from the back.
Cassidy? His ex-girlfriend Cassidy? The one who got away?
Nah. It couldn’t be Cassidy. The universe didn’t hate him that badly.
He was finally ready to jump in the deep end with Molly. Thus, there was no way Cassidy was jumping back into his life to muck that up.
He’d moved on from what they’d had, for sure. It’d been short and sweet and then when it was over, it was over.
This was definitely not her.
The hair was shorter than how Cassidy had styled hers. And Cassidy lived in California with her husband and her kids.
The woman was also not Dakota.
Dakota was in Boston with no intention to visit Denver. That’s what she’d said when she’d slammed the door, anyway. “You’re here early.” Molly’s voice severed his brief trip down memory lane.
Molly.
He looked around to where her voice came from. She’d taken the spot right behind him, her lips playing into a half grin that was really freaking adorable.
“Are you staying back there or are you going to let me buy you a cup of coffee?” He gestured for her to come up beside him.
“You can’t buy me a cup of coffee.” Molly waggled her eyebrows as she meandered forward the few steps to stand with him.
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Because I’m going to be difficult tonight and get a tea.”
“Hot or cold?” Gavin asked. The question seemed an
important temperature check on their night.
“Hot.” Molly pulled a paper menu from the empty table near them. “Definitely hot,” she mused.
Hot was good. Hot was not cold.
Not that she’d asked, but… “I was thinking I wouldn’t get my usual tonight, either.”
Because tonight was Molly. He should try something new. New beginnings warranted a new beverage choice.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, studying the tea menu like it was the answer to all the world’s problems. “What’s your usual?”
“Americano, no to the cream, yes to the sugar.”
“But tonight you’re getting…”
“A double espresso with the Indonesian espresso bean blend,” he announced. Not that she’d specifically asked. But he figured he might as well get it out there.
Yup, that’s what he’d order.
“No cream. No sugar,” he added for good measure. He could sip away, and Molly could chat away.
Yeah, this would be good.
“Sounds like that will put some hair on your chest,” she said with a chuckle, flipping over the menu to study the other side. Silently. She studied the menu in silent torture.
He moved his mouth closer to her ear before saying, “There’s already a bit of hair there, you know.”
Her eyebrows shot up and, thankfully, she was no longer taking refuge in the menu.
“If you were curious,” he added with a slight lift of his shoulders. “I thought you might be curious.”
Molly was a talker. He knew this from years of knowing her. But he’d only realized recently that he appreciated her ability to chatter. Among other things, that chatter of hers had grown on him since his dip in the lake to pull Oliver out.
So, Molly, standing still, mouth open, not filling the space between them with chatter, wasn’t right. It sat funny.
Molly not talking meant she was nervous, she was pissed, or she was confused. He had done nothing recently—that he was aware of—to piss her off. She was a sharp cookie, so that wasn’t it. Nerves, it had to be.
“Tea, huh?” he asked, filling the vacant space for her. Tea was a curve. She seemed to be coffee and cocktails.
But leave it to Molly to do what he didn’t expect.
Like stay quiet and order tea, when he fully expected her to suck down enough cappuccino to start a solid conga line.
Please let this be the start of something new. Something not pretend. Something more.
“I figured since I’m trying something new as well—” She surveyed him up and then down, dotting the edge of her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I might as well try something new from the menu. You know? Go all in?”
A flare of desire flickered in his belly at the flick of her tongue.
Right. Good. So they agreed.
She was flirting. Molly was flirting and not for pretend.
Because there was no one here to pretend for. Just him.
“Do you want to go all in?” she asked, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.
Oh yes, he understood exactly what she meant.
“By all means.” He did his best attempt at you-don’t-affect-me because maybe, just maybe, she’d keep doing the tongue thing. The tongue thing was a keeper. “Let’s go all in.”
Going all in meant that it didn’t matter who the woman was at the front of the line. Cassidy. Dakota. Didn’t matter.
The only person who mattered was standing right next to him in line.
“Here’s to trying something new,” he murmured under his breath.
That got him a full Molly sunshine-filled grin. Oh yes, different was good.
He reached for Molly’s hand, holding his palm up to see if she might like to take it. Leaving it out there like a teenager hoping to score.
She gave a pointed look at his open palm before taking the bait. He scored—in the teenage sense. Then she swung their arms between them like they were kids ready to play Red Rover.
“I have some questions about the gala,” she said, pausing the swinging arms bit.
“Ask away.”
“Actually, I have all the questions about the gala.” She pinched her face up funny. “But I don’t even know where to start. I’ve never been to a black tie event like this before.”
“You’ve never been to a black tie event?”
Molly seemed like the kind of woman who had done everything at least once. Probably twice.
“Just weddings, but those don’t really count.”
“Well, to start…” He’d been to enough of these things to know the importance of the dress. “Do you need a dress?” Molly was tight in the cash department at the moment, so he could make that happen for her. “I have a tailor who does custom work.”
Molly stared up, blinking rapidly, kicking him straight in the teeth with her beauty. “You want to do the Pretty Woman thing and buy me a dress?”
“I just want you to have a good time.”
“No worries.” She shrugged her purse higher on her shoulder, but didn’t release his hand as she made the motion. “I have a dress.”
How did he say this without making her angry? “I know things are tight. Do you need—”
“It is an exceptional dress. I bought it for myself a long time ago for the day that someone asked me to an event like this. It’s been patiently waiting in my closet. Did I mention that it’s exceptional?”
If she was wearing it? Of course it would be exceptional.
“But if you want to do the Pretty Woman thing, you can always rent me expensive jewelry?” She made her eyes get bigger. Her eyebrows rose seductively. “I’d be good with that.”
“You won’t let me fix your car, but I can buy you jewelry?” To be clear, he’d rather fix her car and then buy her jewelry.
“You can rent me outrageously expensive jewelry.
There’s a difference.”
“Noted.” Also, where the hell did a guy rent jewelry? “You’re very self-sufficient, you know that?”
“Truth,” she said, swinging their hands again. “I did know that. It’s one of my best qualities.”
“What are your other qualities—” He couldn’t finish the sentence because the blonde woman at the front of the line tilted forward just a smidge in that way that only Cassidy had ever done. Held her body just so.
Gavin stilled. No. It can’t be her.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, obviously sensing his discomfort.
What’s wrong? It looks like Cassidy is wrong.
His old girlfriend was very much the type of woman he usually dated. Well, in appearance at least.
Dakota looked a lot like Cassidy, but that’s where the resemblance stopped between them.
Cassidy was sweet and mild, like a tea bag dipped quickly in tepid water.
Dakota was not sweet.