Chapter 9
Bradford
“I don’t think it went that bad,” Molly mutters, mostly to herself as we walk toward my truck. “Dr. Williams is way nicer than I thought she’d be about the whole thing.”
I think she’s full of bullshit.
But then again…the points she made seemed valid. And goddamn, she’s got entrancing gray eyes. They’re the kind that make a grown man squirm.
And I was hardly immune to that.
I keep my hand on the door handle of my truck, pretending I’m focused on the locks, but I can’t stop thinking about how she handled Molly. She didn’t flinch under pressure, didn’t tiptoe around the failure, and was quick to offer help.
That’s rare. And something about it reeks of bullshit.
“Dad?” Molly’s voice pulls me back. She’s fidgeting with the straps of her backpack, glancing at me. “Are you… okay? You looked really mad in there.”
I shake my head, forcing a half-smile I hope looks casual. “I’m fine. Just… keeping an eye on things. I don’t like the idea of her coming to the house.”
That’s a complication I really don’t need.
“Okay, but Dr. Williams made it sound like she actually wants to help me. The fact that she was willing to come to the house is really nice.”
I snort under my breath. “Nice doesn’t mean safe.”
Molly wrinkles her nose. “Oh, come on, Dad. You’re totally being hyper protective and dramatic. She’s a literature professor, and definitely doesn’t look like she MMA fights on the side.”
No, she’s got curves for fucking days beneath those slacks.
I shake that off and open the truck door, motioning for Molly to hop in. “Maybe so,” I say, letting out a sigh. “But I don’t like surprises, and I don’t like people getting too close too fast. Especially with my kid. I don’t care if they’re some fancy doctor or not.”
“Seriously?” She tilts her head, studying me with those wide, curious eyes. “She’s just helping me with writing. She’s a professor. She’s professional, Dad. You don’t have to worry.”
I pause, studying her. “I won’t, because I’ll make sure as hell that I’m there, too.”
Molly frowns but doesn’t press further. She’s smart enough to know when to drop it—but not too smart to see I’m off my usual rhythm.
That woman got under my skin in a way I don’t like. Not at all.
I walk around the front of my truck and climb in, slamming the door harder than necessary. My hands grip the wheel, and I catch myself wandering right back to the way Dr. Williams bit her lip mid-sentence, looking like a sexy little librarian under those black-rimmed glasses and sweater.
Did she do that on purpose?
“Can we just get home?” Molly interjects my thought, voice quieter now, sensing the tension radiating off me. “I need you to… you know, not blow your knuckles out with that iron grip.”
“Yep. You’re right.” I nod without looking at her, eyes scanning the parking lot. “It’ll be fine. You can make her that coffee you offered.”
“Maybe you should,” Molly shoots back, giving me a sly grin. “You totally checked her out.”
“No,” I lie, starting the truck and suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.
I don’t like being outmatched. I don’t like feeling caught off guard. And with Dr. Williams, I felt both—right there in that office.
Fuck, what is it about her?
Those gray eyes.
They’re so fucking stormy, so intoxicating, and something about the woman just unsettles me entirely. There’s more to her. There has to be.
And that’s why I’m going to watch her. Every move. Every word.
And if she tries to get too close to my kid… I’ll make damn sure she regrets it.
“Dad? Are you even listening?” Molly’s sharp tone cuts right into my psyche, and I snap back to her, seeing the frustration etched in her expression. “I hate it when you zone out like that.”
“Shit, sorry.” I rip my hat off my head and toss it onto the dash, suddenly feeling like it’s a little too tight.
“You just don’t want to admit that you’re lonely and you think Dr. Williams is a total hottie in a soft kind of way,” Molly sighs, and I inwardly cringe, abhorring this topic. “I want you to be happy. It’s been like twenty years since you’ve been on a date.”
“Not true,” I once again remind her. “I went on a date six years ago. Ended horribly.”
“Why? Because she liked you?” Molly’s attitude shifts as she folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t understand why you want to be forever alone.”
“I’m not forever alone,” I grin at her. “I have you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but Mom’s right. You need someone to make you less…rigid.”
“I prefer disciplined.”
“Code word for stick up your ass.”
“Language,” I deadpan, eyeing her as I pull onto her mom’s street, a nice, safe upper-class neighborhood.
Molly smirks at me, letting out a giggle. “Learned it from you. I heard you cuss at the toaster this morning.”
I rake my fingers through my dark hair, chuckling. “It’s a really shitty toaster.”
“Language,” she mimics my Texas drawl, grabbing my cowboy hat and putting it on her head. “You’ve got a potty mouth.”
“Learned it from you,” I mock her right back as I pull into the quaint two-story brick home. After the divorce, Maren still always made it a point to follow me whenever I relocated to keep Molly close, and I owe her for that sacrifice.
She didn’t have to, but she did.
Which is exactly why I bought her this place when I inherited my grandpa’s farm out here, rather than settling back in Texas. There was nothing for me there.
And I guess in some ways, she felt the same.
“I don’t like him.”
“What?” I rip my gaze from the house to my daughter, who’s pulling her dark hair into a bun on top of her head. “Who don’t you like? Me?”
“Mark,” she strains, once again annoyed with me. “I don’t know why you keep blowing it off. You’re worried the tiny little woman professor is going to be dangerous, but not the weirdo that Mom’s dating?”
“Well, first off,” I let out a breath, leaning back against the seat. “I’m not blowing it off. Your mom has always had a strong taste for weirdos—but not the kind that are dangerous to you. She’s just as protective as me. I pity the fool that tries to hurt you.”
She gives me a look. “Okay, but he asks me a bunch of questions though.”
I feel my chest tighten, holding the warm brown eyes that mirror her mother’s. “Maybe he wants to know you. Or maybe you should finally get that apartment you’ve been saving up for.”
“Nice way to slip in that you think I’m mooching off you.”
“You’re not mooching, but a job and rent builds character. When I was your age—”
“You’d already been to Iraq and fought a whole ass war!” Molly throws her hands to the sky, her dramaticism in full swing. “Please, Father, please remind me of how badass you were at my age, while I mooch off your kindness.”
I shake my head. “I’m not saying you’re mooching. And I wasn’t going to talk about Iraq, for heaven’s sake. I’m just saying that there’s nothing wrong with a little independence, especially if you’re not happy with your living situation.” I nod to the house.
She lets out a sigh, reaches for the door handle, and then stops, turning back to me. “Mark just… He asks a lot of questions about you. That’s what’s freaking creepy, Dad. It’s like he’s obsessed with you or something.”
“Maybe he’s just jealous,” I wiggle my brows at her. “I did have your mom first.”
“Gross.” Molly’s lips curls. “So. Freaking. Gross.”
“Well, I don’t know. Some people are insecure.” I shrug my shoulders, ignoring the subtle warning going off in my mind. Honestly, Mark bothered the shit out of me when we ate dinner.
And my daughter’s paranoia isn’t working in his favor.
And neither is mine.
“I’ll talk to Maren about it,” I say, when Molly stays quiet for a few moments. “And until then,” I flip my console open and grab the pepper spray. “Don’t be afraid to use this, if he gets too close.”
“Seriously?” She takes it from me. “I’ve been practicing with something much more lethal since I was like sixteen, and you’re going to make me—”
“You don’t need anything else,” I cut her off.
You’re too impulsive. You’ll end up doing something you regret. You’re too much like me.
But I keep those thoughts to myself.