Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Bobby
This is amazing. I mean, maybe I should be upset that I've been talking to Molly this whole time on the dating app and didn’t realize it. Maybe I should feel sheepish that I’ve been more honest with her online persona than with anyone in my real life lately. Maybe I should feel raw and exposed. But I don’t feel any of that.
Because Molly thinks I’m hot. She said so in our chat.
I step closer, her bare knees above the sexy pencil skirt brushing my legs as she remains stunned, perched on her barstool.
“Molly?” My voice is soft, lower than normal. She just blinks at me, gorgeous eyes wide and frightened. And I can’t have that.
My hands come up and sweep her auburn hair back, away from her face. Then I cup her jaw and bend down so we’re eye to eye. “Hey. I have a crazy thought.”
“C-crazier than what’s running through my head right now?” she mutters, still gaping at me.
I grin, wishing like hell I knew what she was thinking. Molly’s all buttoned up on the outside, a prim and proper realtor in her heels and skirts and proper manners. And yet I know she’s trolling the dating sites in her downtime, looking to get laid. And since I’m a gentleman who wants to make every lady’s dream come true, it’s important that I offer my services. Like, right now.
“You think I’m hot?” I ask, followed quickly by my own confession. “I think you’re ridiculously attractive.”
I feel her swallow hard, but then she gives me the briefest of nods and it’s all the confession I need.
“No take-backsies,” I murmur. It’s dumb, but the fear fades from her face, leaving her eyes filled with a heat I can feel from here.
As I move ever closer, her knees give way until I’m standing between them, one hand tilting her head to the side, the other tangled in her hair. She’s wearing it down today, a nice change from her usual ponytail, since it allows me to bury my hands in it. Her eyes widen even more and then they flutter shut as I lean in.
I’ve kissed plenty of women in the past, but I’ve never taken such care to make sure it’s good for them. I know more about Molly than most women I’ve kissed, and I want her to remember this moment. Remember me.
My lips briefly brush against hers. A test of sorts to make sure she’s with me. Her hands fly up and for a split second, I think she might push me away. Instead, she takes a fistful of my polo shirt in each hand and yanks me closer. Our mouths crash together, hard this time, a mutual desperation making the kiss clumsy and so fucking hot I can’t think straight. When my tongue flicks against her lip and she only hesitates a moment before opening for me with a whimper, I want to throw my fist in the air and gloat. I don’t, because absolutely nothing is going to break this moment for me.
The whoop of a police siren right outside the house blares. God-fucking-dammit.
We pull apart, moment broken, both of us breathing hard and staring at each other. Where am I, and what the hell just happened here? I blink several times, trying to come back to the moment even as my dick strains to free himself like that Burmese python. He thinks it’s playtime.
“The snake has been captured. Feel free to move about.” A police officer on a bullhorn going through the neighborhood should be offering relief, but I curse the bad timing.
Molly’s eyes go wide and fearful again. She lets go of my shirt and tries to close her legs. Considering I’m standing between them, pain radiates up my thighs as she squeezes.
“Argh!” I wedge myself from between her knees and rub the side of my left thigh. “Ease up on leg day, fluffernutter.”
Her cheeks, red as the toenail polish she sports from those peep-toe heels, flame brighter. “Fluffernutter?” Then she licks the lips I just tasted, and I have to turn partially away or I’ll tackle her to the ground and beg her to pretend we’re still locked inside this house.
“Well, you’re on the Catnip dating app.”
Molly clears her throat and slides off the barstool, smoothing out her skirt. I guess we’re just going to pretend that kiss didn’t happen? “Oh, I don’t care about cats. Allergic to them, actually. My boss signed me up for the app.”
I turn back to her, realizing she’s not getting my joke. “It’s not an app for people who like cats,” I say slowly.
Molly frowns. “What do you mean?”
“It’s an app for cougars.”
She jerks her head back, even more confused.
“Older women who like younger men,” I clarify.
Understanding dawns slowly and incrementally. I know when she puts all the pieces together because her chin drops to her chest and she wraps her arms around herself like she wishes she could disappear. I take a step toward her, my finger going under her chin. She lets me tilt her face back up, but she won’t meet my gaze.
“If it makes you less embarrassed we can go back to pretending it’s an app for cat lovers,” I offer. “I’ll call you fluffernutter and you can call me...” I rack my brain for an appropriate male cat name.
“Mister Whiskers?” Molly offers in a whisper.
We lock eyes and both of us smile. The tension ebbs, and while I’d love nothing more than to go back to kissing Molly, I know that the moment is gone. It’s crystal clear to me I want more than a random make-out session with my realtor in a stranger’s house. I want to take Molly out on a real date. And I can’t do that if I push her too hard, too fast. She’ll run scared, I just know it.
So I do what Bobby Rhodes has never done before and I take a step back. I assess. I don’t go flying into the fray with a banshee cry and a flying fist of fury. I’m going to think twice. Maybe make a pros and cons spreadsheet like a goddamn adult.
Molly grabs her bag off the counter, and I take it from her. She locks up the house and we look both ways before venturing back to my car. I know they say they have the python, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. We climb into Wolverine, but I don’t back out of the driveway.
“I like that house.”
I can feel Molly looking at me, so I meet her gaze. “Want to make an offer on it?”
“Not really,” I admit with a shake of my head.
She smiles, probably remembering how I told her on the app that I wanted an excuse to keep seeing my realtor. “How come I know so much more about you from our messages than all this time we’ve spent together in person?”
I hiss out a breath at the honest question. “I don’t come from a family that talks about our feelings.”
Molly lifts a shoulder. “Does anyone?”
She’s probably right, but my family was next level. “I was just telling Ashley yesterday that I only have two modes: humor or fighting. It’s probably not healthy, and she agreed with me.”
“Ashley?” Molly’s eyes are back to being guarded.
“My counselor,” I rush to clarify. “Kaitlyn, my agent, has me seeing someone for anger management. I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble with my coach.”
Molly’s expression softens again. She reaches over to put her hand on my forearm. “Is he going to be angry you missed practice today? I can go with you and corroborate your story.”
That knot that’s had my shoulders feeling like they’re being pulled like a bowstring loosens. I can’t recall the last time I had someone in my corner. My brothers are the definition of “every man for himself.” The world of hockey is cutthroat the higher up you go. Coach doesn’t exactly like me. Hell, even my friend Chloe, treats me like the little brother she never wished she had. It feels...nice...to think Molly might have my back, for no other reason than she likes me. Genuinely likes me.
“You’d do that for me?”
Molly’s full lips tilt up into a soft smile that hits me right in the middle of my chest. “I would. Will you keep talking to Matthew for me?”
I nod instantly. “You trust me?”
Molly’s thumb shifts back and forth on my arm, distracting me. My dick decides he’d like a stroke too. I try to tell him Molly and I are having a moment, but he’s not used to me ignoring him in favor of conversation.
“You know what? I do,” she answers, sounding as shocked as I am to hear it.
Her trust feels like a gift she’s given me. A very delicate gift that somehow weighs a lot due to its importance. I want to hold it carefully, making sure I don’t damage it. I put my other hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers.
“Go out with me, Molly. On a real date.”
Her eyes flare with surprise, but she doesn’t say no right away. She licks her lips again and I almost let a groan slip out. “I don’t know. That might be against this realtor client relationship we have going.”
“Then you’re fired.”
“Bobby!” She tries to pull her hand back, but I don’t let her go.
I grin. “I’m kidding. But seriously, it’s either go on a date with me or you’ll be signing up for an endless amount of house showings, just so I can see you. Seems like even your boss would agree a date is a better use of your time.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“If that’s what it takes, fluffernutter,” I fire right back.
“That nickname is not going to work.” I raise an eyebrow at her obvious attempt to deflect and she sighs. “Let me think about it?”
I pick her hand up and bring it to my mouth, kissing the soft skin of her knuckles. “Take all the time you need.” Then I put her hand back in her lap. “As much as I’d like to drive you home, you brought your own car.”
She jolts back, looking outside the passenger window to her beat up Kia parked next to mine. She chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re distracting, Mister Whiskers.”
I lunge for her, but she slides out of Wolverine with a squeal. Her laughter carries on the breeze as she heads for her car.