Chapter 7 Chase
CHASE
The sound of voices wakes me in the morning, and I blink open my eyes to see sunlight peeking through the edges of the trailer’s blackout curtains.
Shit.
I jackknife upright after glancing at the clock.
It’s seven forty-five, which means those voices belong to Luke and Laurel, who are walking past the trailer on their way to catch the bus at the end of the driveway.
Which also means I missed helping with breakfast, getting them ready for school, and generally doing the job I’m supposed to do.
Double shit.
I throw on a sweatshirt and jeans, shove my feet into boots, and race out of the trailer like the place is on fire.
“Good morning,” I call to the trio moving down the gravel driveway, slowly because of Molly’s crutches.
The kids wave and keep walking, but she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in what I imagine is some legit bed head. I’m also still buttoning up my fly.
Her brows furrow. “Long night?”
“Something like that,” I say. How do I explain that the hours of sleep I lost were her fault? Or at least dream Molly’s fault. I tossed and turned, hard as a rock, even after taking myself in hand once. No, make that twice.
I’ve had no desire to get back on a bull since the accident, but even less desire to hook up with a woman.
Now I can’t stop thinking about the one woman I can’t let myself want.
My type has always been easy on the eyes, hard and fast in the bedroom, with zero strings attached.
Molly is none of those things, so there’s no accounting for my reaction to her.
“Mom, I hear the bus,” Luke calls.
“It’s here early,” Laurel adds.
Molly’s fingers tighten on the crutches.
“I’m sorry I missed breakfast,” I say as I finish buttoning my jeans. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I’m pretty sure the reason her cheeks are suddenly flushed has less to do with exertion and more with the flash of abs I just gave her.
“Chase will walk you the rest of the way,” she tells the twins. “Love you both. I’ll see you later today at the party.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, Mommy.”
“I really am sorry,” I say as I move past her. Like she has any reason to believe me.
“I need to leave here at nine to make some deliveries. After they get on the bus, I could use help loading the tubs of flowers into the back of the truck.” She gives me a funny look. “And I’m guessing you need a shower.”
So maybe she wasn’t looking at my stomach. The thought is annoyingly disappointing.
I jog around the curve of the driveway where the kids have disappeared.
“Can I ride Fancy after school?” Laurel asks by way of greeting.
“Good morning to you, too,” I answer. “Did you ask your mom?”
“Mommy said no,” Luke tells his sister, not meeting my eyes. “She doesn’t want you riding some cowboy horse. It could bite you.”
“Do you want to try feeding Fancy a carrot?” I ask Luke.
“I want to feed her another carrot and ride,” Laurel answers first.
“Mommy said no,” Luke repeats, then looks up at me. “You missed breakfast, and Mommy makes the best blueberry muffins, and horses bite.”
Before I can explain again that my horse isn’t going to bite anyone, the bus pulls up and the door swings open.
Laurel gets on first, and through the window, I see her sit with another girl. The two of them immediately start giggling. Luke is slower to board. He hands the driver a brown paper bag, and the old man offers a stained-tooth grin.
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate you and your mom thinking of me.” He pulls a muffin out of the bag and takes a bite before raising it in my direction. “Molly’s the best.”
I nod as the door closes, and the bus trundles off down the road. Luke has taken a seat by himself and glares at me as I wave when the bus rolls past.
Teddy and I always sat together in the back. Does Luke have a friend getting on at a later stop? I’m not convinced. And despite knowing better, I vow right here and now that I’m going to help that boy make a friend. For Teddy.
I expect to see Molly still making her way back to the house, but the driveway is empty.
There’s a flash of movement near the greenhouse as I climb the porch steps, and her apparent industriousness makes me feel like an even bigger loser.
More so when the scent of freshly brewed coffee and homemade muffins greets me as I enter the house.
I don’t deserve to pour myself a cup, but all I’ve got in the trailer is instant, which isn’t going to cut it this morning.
In addition to the muffins, I notice two dozen cupcakes cooling on a wire rack on the counter. It seems like I wasn’t the only one not sleeping last night, but she was far more productive during her overnight hours.
I down a giant mug of coffee in a couple of swigs, then wash out the pot and leave it drying in the rack next to the sink. As chaotic as yesterday was, Molly appears to have this morning buttoned up.
I rip through feeding Fancy and mucking her stall before heading toward the greenhouse.
Molly’s filling five-gallon buckets with tulips and daffodils, their yellow and purple blooms a bright welcome sign to the change of seasons.
I may not know much about flowers, but I’m impressed by her operation, especially knowing she’s done it all herself.
“What can I do?”
She backs up a few inches on her scooter, her wariness making me want to straighten my shoulders and puff out my chest like I’m back in middle school trying to impress the prettiest girl in class.
Only the stakes feel higher because we’re not kids, and the intensity of her gaze has me fighting the urge to check if I’ve got something stuck in my teeth.
I blink and wait for her to speak, but when she continues to stare, I can’t take it any longer and ask, “Is there a problem?”
She shakes her head. “I know you’ve been through a lot with the accident, and I appreciate your willingness to help while Linda’s away. But I can’t have somebody who’s out of control near my children. Not…” She swallows hard, then adds, “...again.”
Her eyes glow like chips of jade, beautiful but sharp enough to cut glass.
“I’m sure you know Teddy was typically the life of any party.
” Her voice is flat. “That partying came with a price. I stayed because…well, I loved him, but he didn’t always make it easy.
I’m not having that energy around my children again. ”
“I don’t do drugs.” I hate that she’s assumed the worst even though she has no reason not to. “Unless you count an occasional ibuprofen. And I’m not a fan of hangovers. I might have a beer or two when I’m out with friends, but—”
“Last night—” she begins.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, realizing that I’ve offered more apologies to this woman in the past twenty-four hours than I have to anyone in years.
The need for her to believe in me, to see me as someone worth trusting, burns in my chest like a brand.
“I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Because of my no numbing agents rule, it was nearly three before I managed to fall asleep last night, and I overslept. It won’t happen again.
You can trust me, Molly.” At least on that.
Her name is like honey on my tongue, sweet and addictive. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath waiting for her answer until she gives a slight nod, and something in me releases. Her tentative acceptance lifts an invisible weight from my shoulders.
I admire the hell out of her already. She’s running a business, raising kids, and still managing to look like every version of temptation I’ve ever encountered.
“The truck I use for deliveries is in the garage,” she says, and I’m happy as a pig in shit to be done with that conversation. “Keys are in the console. Could you back it up in front of the greenhouse so we can load the buckets?”
“Of course.” I turn and jog in the direction of the garage, grateful to be able to help in some meaningful way.
The truck is a beater with a bench seat that’s been re-covered in a thick cotton fabric in a floral pattern.
It smells like Molly—a contrasting yet beguiling mix of lavender and sunshine.
There are large vinyl stickers on both the driver and passenger doors with a simple but pretty logo for Meadow Blooms, which I assume is the official name of her business.
She’s filling the last bucket with water when I reenter the greenhouse. “If you want to stay at the house and rest your ankle, I can make the deliveries.”
“I’m fine,” she says, but I already hear a tinge of weariness in her voice.
“Are you sure you aren’t doing too much?” I ask. “I’m guessing those muffins and cupcakes didn’t bake themselves?”
For a moment, it looks as though she’s going to give me another one-finger salute, but she settles for an exaggerated eye roll. “A small army of magical woodland creatures helped me.”
The corner of her mouth lifts, and that hint of a smile hits me like a sucker punch to the chest.
To be fair, if woodland creatures were going to pick somebody to help, it would be this woman, who seems to be as pure of heart as any damn fairy tale princess I can imagine.
“Good to know,” I tell her, not bothering to hide my smile. “I figured it was talking teacups and candlesticks.”
“What do you know about talking teacups?” She gives me a sidelong glance, and heat pools low in my belly. Yeah, she’s beautiful, but it’s more than that. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here, but I want more of it.
“My sister was major-league into princesses as a kid,” I admit, rubbing a hand across my jaw. “Belle was her favorite.”
“I’m partial to Ariel,” Molly says quietly.
“Because you both have red hair, right?” I grab two buckets and secure them in the back of the truck.
“That was part of it, but I think it has more to do with wanting to belong and…” She shakes her head. “Forget it. No time for deep thoughts with The Little Mermaid.”
I don’t argue, even though I want to. This glimpse into her thoughts feels significant, and so different from the surface-level conversations I’m used to on the circuit. Talking about ride times, beer brands, and which buckle bunny is causing drama.
Besides my sister, I don’t know women who think about the deeper meanings of princesses. I already know Molly is more than I thought, but I want to learn even more. I want to understand the thoughts and emotions that flicker behind those green eyes.
“I’ve met your sister at the elementary school. She’s a popular teacher.”
I nod. “Ada’s always been great with kids. She loves teaching.”
I hold up a hand when Molly starts to move forward on the scooter like she’s going to help load buckets. “She’s also mentioned your cupcake prowess, but isn’t a sprained ankle an excuse to lighten your load?”
She breathes out a soft laugh. “I offered to bring cupcakes before the accident. Luke and Laurel are in the same class this year, which doesn’t usually happen with twins.
Their teacher’s going on maternity leave next week, so the other class mom and I are throwing her a baby shower this afternoon.
I didn’t want to put more work on the other parents. ”
“So even with an injury, you’re still taking care of everyone?” I lift another bucket into the truck bed.
She ignores my question and gestures to the crutches leaning against one of the benches.
“Could you fit those in the back of the truck? They’re easier than dragging the scooter to town.
I’ll need to come back after the deliveries to decorate the cupcakes and then head to the school this afternoon.
I can text one of the other moms to pick me up so you don’t—”
“I’ll drive you back and forth as many times as you need, Molly. That’s why I’m here. I can’t help decorate cupcakes, but I can carry them without a problem. Let’s not have a repeat of the pasta sauce from last night.”
I shut the truck bed and expect to find her glaring at me again for hinting that she couldn’t handle the cupcakes on her own, but to my surprise, she’s smiling outright. And damn if it doesn’t hit me straight in the feels.
“Thank you.”
Her gratitude throws me off balance worse than any pissed-off bull ever did.
I know how to handle anger and push back against resistance.
Both are familiar territory. But I’m entirely out of my depth with this woman saying thank you like giving her a ride is the equivalent of hanging the moon.
And a part of me I don’t recognize wants to do that, too.
“Let’s get this show going then.” I clear my throat when the words come out more growly than I intend. “You need help getting in the truck?”
The passenger door is open, but she’s staring up at the high seat like she’s at the trailhead of a fourteener. Even with the running board, it might be a challenge to hoist herself up there with only one working leg.
“I can manage—”
“Let me help.” Without waiting for an answer, I lift her into the truck, my hands spanning her waist as I guide her onto the seat.
For a moment, she’s close enough that I can smell her shampoo, the scent one part floral, one part sweet and totally Molly.
I force myself to step back before I do something stupid like bury my face in her hair.
“Thank you.” She sounds as breathless as I feel.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me. Helping you is why I’m here.”
“Right. Your debt to the McAllisters.” She gives me a funny look. “Are you going to tell me about that at some point?”
“Not planning on it,” I say as I shut the door.
“I guess everybody has secrets,” she murmurs through the open window.
Our eyes meet as I walk around the front of the truck, and for a heartbeat, neither of us looks away. There’s something vulnerable in her expression. Like she’s as surprised by this unexpected connection as I am.
I climb into the truck and head toward town, trying not to think about how much I want to know every one of Molly’s secrets.