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Cutting straight to it, I say, “I was hoping to get more information about my parents and what they were like while they lived here.”
Beatrice points to the stage. “If I’m not mistaken, this is where your parents met.”
“That’s right. She was only seventeen at the time, but Tom was insistent she participate,” Agnes confirms. “In fact, I believe that was just before he set up the arranged marriage.”
Arranged marriage?
“That Tom was mean as hell. Tried to force the poor girl to marry so he could get rid of her.” Beatrice’s face softens sympathetically. “She disappeared not long after that, and no one ever heard from her again.”
My brows furrow, unsure what to make of my grandfather. How can he be cruel enough to run his daughter out of town, but decent enough to make sure their home goes to someone who would take care of it?
“We’re glad to know she had you and your brothers, though,” Eleanor says, patting my arm. “She was a great woman and was loved by the community.”
I smile sincerely, but something—no, someone—across the room catches my eye.
Molly and another woman stand before a table filled with chocolate-dipped strawberries and mountains of other treats, holding half-empty glasses of champagne. Her lips part when her gaze locks on mine, and the room falls dark as my vision tunnels.
God, I hate those damn overalls, but she wears them like a second skin, accentuating her legs, hips, and the slight curve of her breasts. Odd that she’d wear something so informal to an event such as this, but with the memory of her delicate moans still ringing in my ears, my attention is on nothing and no one other than her.
I conceal my urge to go to her, keeping my face impassive. After seeing her reaction to me when she left the archives, she’d likely bolt the moment I approached.
“Rowan,” Eleanor says. “Are you alright, dear?”
My theory is quickly proven when her eyes widen and she abruptly turns away, breaking our connection.
Shaking off a wave of disappointment, I say, “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that.”
When the auctioneer prepares to welcome the next round of bids, Sam waves me over to his table situated in the center of the room.
Having put this off long enough, I excuse myself from Eleanor and her friends, but when I glance back to where I last saw Molly, she’s gone.
Fuck.
Eyes from every corner of the room land on me as I make my way toward Sam—some mildly interested, some filled with disdain—and I can sense my blood pressure rising.
I sit beside my cousin, but I can’t focus on the conversations bouncing between his friends when my mind keeps drifting back to the fiery woman who’s currently avoiding me.
Little does she know, ignoring me won’t change anything. If there were any doubts about my budding desire for Molly, seeing her again only confirmed my need for another taste. And after tonight, I’m determined to find her.
Sam’s friend, Wade, passes me a beer. “Welcome to the show, Rowan. You’re in for a real treat.”
His friends cut up with smirks as they voice their hopes that the women this year will be ‘easy lays.’ I don’t care for the way he’s sprawled out, casually sipping his beer while acting like, just because his father owns the club, it makes him some sort of king.
Sam turns toward me. “I saw you talking with Eleanor. I trust she gave you a warm welcome.”
“She did.” I hesitate before asking, “Did you know the factory is struggling to keep up productivity?”
He acts as if he’s not concerned, lifting a shoulder. “I haven’t heard anything about it. You’ll learn people in this town like to stir up trouble where it doesn’t exist.”
Of that, I have no doubt, but they didn’t strike me as liars.
“Just be careful with them,” he says. “They’re known for sticking their noses where they don’t belong, and I wouldn’t want you getting caught up in their stories.”
I scoff at his warning. “I think I can handle a few older women, thank you.”
“You got a thing for grannies, Rowan?” Wade goads me, grinning around the tip of his beer before taking a sip.
I cut him a glare so sharp that he shifts in his chair before turning toward the stage.
