Chapter 1 #2
Rachel’s makeup was nearly done. They’d accented all her best features, but they’d made her blue eyes the center of attention. And it worked. Rachel’s blonde hair had been teased and then pulled into a loose chignon at her neck. She could be a model for a bridal magazine.
She even had some pretty kick-ass lingerie under it all.
Molly had helped her pick it out.
And Rachel hadn’t forgotten it. Because she was the organized friend.
Molly was more the hot mess friend.
But today was about Rachel. Everyone was heading down to the dock in about fifteen minutes to watch her best friend marry the man she was meant to be with.
“Is there a Coke in the fridge?” Rachel asked, stretching her neck to the side. “I’d kill for a soda right now.”
Molly moved to the mini-fridge and knelt to open the door. Several bottles of white wine lined the shelves, a few bottles of water, but no soda.
“No.” She stood. “I’ll go grab one from the catering staff.”
“You’re my favorite friend right now,” Rachel said, standing so the makeup artist could check her work in the light near the window.
“I’m your favorite friend all the time,” Molly countered, because it was true. She and Rachel knew more about the other than they did themselves.
She didn’t even try to fight the grin smeared across her face as she headed for the kitchen. This was her first time at the infamous lake house where the Frank family summered and concocted new plans for their Puffle Yum Toaster Tart empire. Seriously, that’s how the family had made its fortune.
Deep in thought about how they got their blueberry tarts to be the same funky shade of teal as her current dress, she turned the corner to the kitchen and stalled mid-step.
Gavin stood near the sink with his twin boys and Ollie. He leaned in, whispering something that left the boys in stitches.
He glanced up, and his gaze snagged uncomfortably with hers—like she’d run her hand the wrong way on a piece of textured fabric. Then he smiled like he meant it. Which was bananas. He didn’t get to smile at her like that.
A curt nod was what he got in reply as she did her best saunter toward the refrigerator.
She glanced back at him with her kiddo, who was intently eating a toaster pastry and laughing with his buddies. Gavin leaned in again, saying something to Ollie that she couldn’t catch from across the room.
Ollie pulled a face. Gavin nudged his arm.
Her kiddo pulled his lips to the side and said, “You look pretty, Mom.”
Her heart dipped. That was…sweet.
“Bud.” Gavin shook his head. “We’ve got to work on your game. Be specific when you’re complimenting someone.”
“His compliment is fine. You don’t need to micromanage my kid’s compliments.” Molly said the last part under her breath.
“I do when he needs to up his game,” Gavin said, also under his breath.
Reluctant, she glanced over her shoulder to toss some glare daggers his way. Hey, it was sort of their thing.
Ollie stared at her, thoughtful, his tongue flicking to a crumb of toaster pastry at the corner of his lips. Finally, he seemed to settle on something—
“I like what you did to your face,” Ollie said cheerfully.
She smirked. “Thanks, kiddo.”
“The dress is a pretty color,” the oldest twin, Kellan, added.
“Thank you, Kellan. That’s very specific. Your mom picked it out.” She gave him a smile for his effort while ignoring his dad.
“That dress makes your butt look small,” Brady—the younger—added.
Say whaaaa?
“Brady.” Gavin shook his head. “No. Don’t mention her bum.”
“For the first time ever, I agree with your dad. No one mention my tush.” Molly shook her head. “But thanks for the complimentary effort.”
“What?” Brady said, apparently ready to defend himself. “It’s true. Mom says clothes are best when they make her butt look smaller.”
“Okay.” Molly closed the door to the fridge for a moment. “You shouldn’t compliment anything about a person that has to do with things in their swimsuit area.”
“Why are girls so weird, dad?” Brady asked with what seemed to be genuine curiosity.
“That is an excellent question.” Gavin shrugged. “We may never know the answer.”
That’s it, she was going to kick him in the nuts—right in his swimsuit area.
“He’s right. You do look pretty.” Gavin smiled again.
“Too little, too late,” she said, mentally tossing a few more daggers his direction. “You’ll need to up your game.”
“Be specific.” Ollie raised his little eyebrows at Gavin.
“I’m good.” Molly smoothed her dress. “I don’t need specifics.”
She pulled open the door to the refrigerator and scanned the shelves. Every soda lining the shelves was of the Pepsi product variety. Damn. Rachel wanted a Coke. This was her big day. If that’s what she wanted, then Molly would figure it out.
“That color blue makes you look like a real-life princess,” Gavin said from behind her, his deep voice rumbling over her nerve endings and stirring up butterflies she’d expressly reserved for Cam. “It suits you.”
What was his game?
She cleared her throat and threw up the wall she was so excellent at erecting.
“You look handsome yourself.” Well, he did.
“I had a haircut,” he said, like this was a big deal and he deserved a gold star.
Before Ollie could tell her to be specific, she said, “Your ears are looking very symmetrical today, and I like the way the tuxedo helps you keep track of Ollie so I can fulfill my wedding duties.”
The wink she tossed at the end was added to mess with him. This was her way.
He chuckled.
“Yes, ma’am. We all clean up nice.” She turned back to the fridge. Still no Coke.
She pinched her lips together.
“Everything okay?” Gavin asked, and dammit all, he was right there beside her staring into the Coke-less void with her. Didn’t he have a swamp to go lounge in or something?
“Rachel wants a Coke.” Molly forced herself not to bite at her bottom lip. The makeup artist who had troweled on Molly’s look had done a brilliant job. Now it was Molly’s job not to do anything to muck it up—like nibble at her lips.
“I don’t think staring at the shelf is going to make one appear.” He inched just a tad closer to her. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”
“Har.” She willed her feet to step away from him and lifted her hand to rub at the space between her eyebrows, but stopped herself. No. Messing. With. The. Makeup.
“Did you check the pantry?” Kellan asked, pointing toward a door near the back of the kitchen. “Maybe they’re in that refrigerator.”
“Were you going to mention the other fridge?” Molly asked, tossing more eye daggers at Gavin.
He nodded. Pulled his lips to the side. “I was getting to it.”
Molly gritted her teeth—another few minutes with Gavin and she’d need some serious dental work. “I’m not wearing enough underwear to deal with you right now.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Yep.” Molly popped her lips and said quietly so only Gavin could hear, “Probably best you don’t know that I’m not wearing underwear right now.”
His lips parted. His cheeks flushed. “I’ll check the butler’s pantry.”
Gavin turned and strode away.
Molly’s face heated. Gavin did not need to know about her underwear situation. Ever.
He returned with two familiar red mini-cans with a white swish on them. “Apparently, Mama hides the Coke in the back of that one.”
“Oh, thank hell.” Molly scooted forward to him as he passed over the soda.
“You’re welcome,” he said, like he was the one who recommended that refrigerator.
“Thank you, Kellan.” She held up the cans to him. “For these.”
Kellan kicked his feet against the cabinets. “You’re welcome.”
Despite what anyone who saw her in that moment might think, she did not bolt away from the kitchen.
No, she didn’t saunter like she wished she had.
But she didn’t run.
No. She didn’t.
That was her story. She was sticking to it.
What she should have done was look up before plowing into her date for the night.
“Oh my gosh.” She held up the cans, careful they didn’t get shaken up in the head-on collision.
Cam reached out to steady her. “Hey, you,” he said.
“Hey…you.” Nothing. She felt nothing. The butterflies she had been dreaming of dancing all around her belly were totally, traitorously silent.
Reaching for his arm, she gave it a not-at-all-awkward squeeze, willing a spark to flare.
Nothing.
“I’m—” She held up the sodas. “On a mission to give the bride something to drink.”
Cam gave her a lopsided smile and his eyes freaking twinkled. Her nerve endings were dormant. Dead. Not interested in him at all. This was ridiculous.
He eyed the drinks in her palms. “Well, I happen to think there’s something special about a woman who is prepared.”
Well, then, crap, he was gonna have to keep looking.
Because that was not her.
She forced a smile as Kaiya rounded the corner behind Cam.
She waved to Molly, hurrying toward her, her glossy black hair swishing as she moved with purpose.
The subtle bow shape of her red-glossed lips pursed, and the beige skin of her cheeks pinked, apparently from hustling on her search to solve the undies situation.
Two brand new packages of Fruit of the Loom undies were in her grip. Seeing Cam, she tucked them at her side so it wasn’t so obvious what she had. “Rachel said you have an issue. I have a solution.”
Cam turned to Kaiya and drank her in like she was one of the Cokes in Molly’s grip.
And the Molly first-date-curse struck again.
“Cam, I’d like you to meet my friend Kaiya,” Molly said, already preparing herself for their upcoming wedding announcement.
Dammit.