Chapter 14 Molly
MOLLY
Soft light spills out from the windows of Chase’s trailer as Avah pulls down the driveway later that night. “Looks like somebody’s having a low-key Friday.”
“That’s weird. I texted that I wouldn’t need his help again until Sunday night.” Awareness flutters across my middle, but I blame it on the drinks I had between rounds of axe throwing. Still not sure axes and liquor go together, but I’m feeling way less stabby than I was earlier.
She gives me a funny look. “I thought the sardine can on wheels was his house.”
My snort can by no means be described as delicate. “I’m sure Chase can find a warm bed to spend a weekend in. One that would give him easy access to indoor plumbing.”
Her laugh is husky. “As well as easy access to a warm body.”
I force a tight smile. “I think the official term is buckle bunny.”
“Oh, yeah.” She gives an exaggerated nod. “A staple of the rodeo circuit. I feel like there were dozens of them at the fairgrounds last fall before his accident.”
Those flutters hit my gut like a truckload of bricks. “Exactly,” I agree with a sigh. “The man has way better options than spending the weekend holed up in an Airstream.” I lean forward like I’m suddenly going to develop x-ray vision. “Why isn’t he taking advantage of them?”
She hits the brakes. “You want to knock on his door and ask?”
“Of course not.” I smack her arm. “Don’t slow down. Remember, I’m back to hating him.”
“Back to,” she repeats as she pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Which means there was a period, however brief, when you didn’t hate him.” She grins. “I knew it.”
“To be clear, I didn’t ever like him,” I say, amazed I sound so composed.
“Girl, I’m on your side no matter what. If you hate him, I hate him. But…” She shifts the car into park, and the quiet of the night settles over us.
“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” I tell her with an eye roll. “But what?”
“Hate sex can be flippin’ hot.”
“It doesn’t sound hot.”
“Trust me.”
My mouth drops open. “Do you and Jon have hate sex? You’re engaged, which means you love him.”
“Of course. But in the early days of our relationship, things were...tumultuous.” She shrugs. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I occasionally rub people the wrong way.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I answer with a soft laugh. “But never me, and not Jon, right?”
“Not anymore,” she says, but I notice the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Now things are…comfortable.”
“You say that like comfortable is a bad word.”
“It’s not.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “But being out of your comfort zone isn’t bad either.”
“I’m getting used to being way out.”
“It’s a good look,” she says, her tone earnest. “I’m proud that you aren’t letting a setback derail you.”
Yep, that’s right. One night of axe throwing with my bestie, plus a little bit of harmless flirting with a guy I’ll likely never see again, and I’ve recommitted to my bucket list goal of building a life for myself and my kids on my terms.
My mother-in-law made her arrangement with Chase before she knew I wanted to stay in Skylark. I can’t fault her, given that I never spoke up about my dream. Heck, I barely let myself acknowledge I had one before my book club friends challenged me to claim it.
Linda told me her plan to sell the property, and the twins and I moving to Albuquerque with her was part of that decision. There was no discussion about what I wanted, which is on me. I didn’t feel like I could talk about my dreams because I hadn’t done enough to earn them.
Now I know the quickest way to make a dream come true is by becoming the person who lives that life. I’m becoming that person.
I flash a smile that only wobbles a bit at the corners. “Thank you for kicking my ass into gear and being my best friend. I wouldn’t want to do life without you.”
“Samesies, girl,” she says with a wink. “You’re my ride or die, Mol.”
The first words that pop into my mind are a denial that she needs me like I do her, but I don’t say them. Because half of the problem is that I’ve spent too long selling myself short. I’m not going to do that anymore.
At least I’m going to try not to.
“Do you want help getting into the house? I feel like that shot might have pushed you over the edge.”
I laugh softly. “Why did I let some rando guy convince me to do a shot?”
“It was the dimples.”
I laugh again. “I think my coordination improves when I’m drinking.”
“That’s not a thing, hon,” she answers. “It’s the Wild Turkey talking.”
“Gobble gobble,” I tell her, and climb out of the car, suddenly not looking forward to a night alone in the house. “I promise I’ll take it slow.”
I grab my crutches from the back seat once again, looking forward to a time when I’m back on two feet. My ankle isn’t hurting as badly as it did right after the accident, but a couple of hours standing while we chucked axes at a target hasn’t helped.
Once I’m out of the car, crutches tucked under my armpits, I wave and watch her drive away.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” a deep voice asks.
I let out a yelp, then spin around, one crutch swinging wildly while the other catches my shin.
As I’m coming to expect when Chase is around, I fall flat on my butt.
In a couple of quick strides, he’s down the porch steps, where I did not see him sitting. He grabs the crutches, then yanks me to my feet before I can protest.
“Why are you lurking in the dark outside my house?”
“I was sitting on your porch swing,” he says with an amused scoff. His gravelly voice slides across my skin like velvet.
I blame my reaction on the shots and shoo him away before he can scoop me into his arms. My body would like to throat punch my brain in protest.
The porch light is off, leaving us in near darkness, and the pale moonlight casts shadows across his face. I can barely make out his features, but I can tell his gray eyes have gone dark.
“We need to talk,” he says. I almost lose my footing again when he follows up with, “About your…you know.” He flaps a hand. And I don’t know how hand flapping can look manly, but somehow Chase manages it. “Your cobwebs.”
“Coochie cobwebs,” I clarify, narrowing my eyes and trying to ignore the flush that rises to my cheeks. Humiliation wipes out my buzz in one fell swoop. Will I ever live down that moment of verbal indiscretion? “I’m not talking about my cobwebs with you. Or with anybody. But definitely not you.”
“Come on, Molly.” He runs a hand through his hair like he does when he’s frustrated or discombobulated. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I won’t apologize for the kiss, but I’m sorry if it made things weird between us.”
I feel my mouth drop open. “Do you seriously think I’m mad about the kiss?”
“Yeah. No?” He shakes his head. “You know it was more than a kiss. Just like I know I have no right to you. You’re my best friend’s woman and—”
“Hold up, cowboy. In case it’s unclear, we’re not role-playing some testosterone-fueled Yellowstone knock-off.
This is real life. Calling me your best friend’s woman makes it sound like Teddy owned me.
” I jab a finger into Chase’s chest. “He didn’t.
And besides, he’s been gone for over two years.
I don’t belong to anyone except myself. I’m the one who chooses who I kiss and when. ”
“Got it,” he says, hands up, surprise and respect flickering in his expression. “You were the one who brought up cobwebs, Molly. What was I supposed to think?”
It’s a fair point, but not one I’m willing to concede to at the moment.
“That I’m a single mom of twins living with my late husband’s mother?” I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I have priorities other than hooking up. Or maybe I was waiting for a night like tonight and the cute guy at the axe throwing place who—”
His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t decipher. “What axe throwing place?”
“The Max Axe.” I tilt my head defiantly. “It opened at the beginning of the year. Turns out beers and blades are cathartic.” I don’t mention the shots.
“Were you on a date?” His words are growly and low, and damn if it doesn’t make my stomach do a bunch of unwanted flip-flops.
“None of your business.”
I slowly make my way up the ramp he built, unable to continue holding his gaze. Not with the intensity in his eyes.
“We kissed,” he says, and even though his voice is barely above a whisper, the words stop me in my tracks.
“That doesn’t make us Instagram official,” I say over my shoulder, proud of how casual I sound.
“I don’t have a fucking Instagram account,” he shouts.
“No need to share it with the whole neighborhood.”
“We are the neighborhood, Molly. Would you please—”
“But while we’re on the topic of sharing,” I interrupt from the top of the ramp, “perhaps you’d like to explain the secret squirrel agreement you have with my mother-in-law.”
His head snaps back like I’ve slapped him. “I don’t—”
“In exchange for babysitting me,” I say with a tight smile, “she’s going to sell the farm to you.”
“Who told you that?” His voice goes from shout to whisper in the span of seconds. “No one was...” He closes his eyes for a moment and I see his chest rise and fall in an unsteady breath.
“Chase, I’m not just anyone. I told you my plan to approach Linda about buying the farm. You knew something about me, and you didn’t think to mention that I can pound sand because you’ve already worked out a deal with her.”
He walks up the steps until he’s standing on the one below me, putting us at eye level. “I’d never tell you to pound sand, and nothing with Linda is a done deal. When she and I discussed a sale, I didn’t know you wanted the farm.”
“Are you going to back out now that you do?” I ask.
When he just stares at me, I roll my eyes. “That’s what I thought. I hope you get why I don’t want to be around you.” Liar, my body chants, and I mentally shush it. “It’s not at all about the kiss.”