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“My sincerest apologies.” I reach behind her, inhaling her floral scent as deep as my lungs can bear, and push the door back open. “Now, let’s get this over with.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’ve bitten off more than I can chew where you’re concerned?”
“Probably because you have.”
“Good to know reassurance isn’t your strong suit,” she smarts as we walk inside, and god, how addicting that mouth of hers has become.
“Where’s the car I gave you?”
She unbuckles her tool belt and lays it across the arm of the couch. She exudes defiance when she turns my way. “I couldn’t bring it here without him asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.”
I take a step toward her. “Are you telling me you left a ninety-thousand-dollar car, unattended in the library parking lot?”
“Yes…?” she grimaces. “I was going to tell you?—”
“It’s been two days, Molly.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. You’re the one who gave me a car and then promptly took off without bothering to ask how the hell I was gonna get two of them home.”
I swipe a hand down my face. “A sane person would have left that hunk of metal, not the fucking Porsche!”
She jerks her chin up, and I take a cleansing breath.
Ten… Nine… Eight…
“You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I retort, hating how easily she gets to me.
But clearly, not hating it enough.
Despite hearing her father moments ago, the home is empty, leaving the two of us facing off in a living room no bigger than most of the bedrooms at the manor. I help myself to a look around their home, finding a mixture of antique furnishings and vintage decor from the seventies and eighties.
Framed photos of her parents and crooked oil paintings are hung on the yellow walls, and a bookcase filled with colorful fiction titles sits beside an old wicker basket filled to the brim with crocheted blankets.
There are plates with crumbs sitting on the bar, explaining the faint aroma of charred pizza, ridiculous character magnets sprinkled all over the fridge, and lace trim hanging from the kitchen windows. This house needs an update almost as badly as the manor does, but I find an odd sense of comfort in the nostalgic, lived-in look of it.
Her eyes dart to the kitchen, where a succession of grinding noises sound through the open back door.
“Okay, quick. Let’s get our story straight.” Flustered, she waves her hands between us. “How did we meet?”
“Easy. In Paris, several months ago, and we’ve kept up with each other long-distance. I finally got a break from work and came into town yesterday to propose.”
She’s already shaking her head. “No, that won’t work. I’ve never left Tennessee, remember? Besides, I would never leave him stranded and responsible for both businesses.”
Fair point.
“Well, what do you suggest?”
She bites the tip of her thumbnail in thought. “We can say we bumped into each other at the mini-mart.”
“Ah, yes. Nothing screams romance more than that rundown gas station this town’s trying to pass for a grocery store.”
“Ugh. Shut up.” Molly punches my arm, and I frown at the spot while she paces. “I’ll tell him you left town shortly after we met, and we’ve been secretly dating for the last month. He won’t like that I’ve lied to him, but I think a small disappointment is worth saving this place.”
Her eyes turn up to mine as if needing support, and I nod, surprising us both. “I agree.”
