“Nothing.” Even though Lise’s dark eyelashes were, in fact, quite pretty, and she’d clearly perfected that expression of guileless, wide-eyed entreaty at some point in her life.
Didn’t matter. No way Molly was attending that freaking reunion, peer pressure be damned. If Karl’s entreaties hadn’t swayed her sufficiently, nothing could.
Although he’d come surprisingly close.
“I’ll do anything, Molly. Please.” Lise’s mouth twisted. “It’ll be so terrible without you.”
That pleading, woebegone face would have softened even the hardest heart. And despite Molly’s attempts to make hers impervious, it hadn’t yet turned to stone.
Shit.
Fine.Fine. To assuage her drunken guilt, she’d say yes—but make her agreement conditional upon Lise completing a task she’d absolutely hate and refuse to do. Thus relieving Molly of the necessity of either spending another month in Harlot’s Bay or flying out from California a second time for the stupid freaking reunion—and removing her from the walking, talking, grumping temptation named Karl Andrew Dean.
Congratulating herself on her cleverness, she laid down her terms. “The entire time we were slurping down peanut soup andmunching on hoecakes, you were complaining about how long a dry spell you’ve had, how you don’t like most singles’ events and hate all dating apps, and how you wouldn’t even know how to go about seducing someone. So I’ll say yes to attending to the reunion—”
“Yay! Thank you so—”
“—on one condition.”
“—much.” Lise frowned. “Wait. What condition? Why are you putting conditions on the sacred bonds of friendship?”
“Becauseyouwant to get laid,” Molly said, pointing at her. “Which meansIwant you to get laid, and apparently you need a more powerful motivator than potential orgasms. So here it is: For me to attend the reunion with you, you’ll have to seduce someone before Friday. A man, a woman, whoever. Just get them into bed and into your vagina before I head to the airport, and I’ll stay until the reunion.”
In a way, she was leaving her future plans up to fate, which wasn’t like her. But she’d also stacked the deck heavily in her favor, which very much was.
“But—”
“No buts.” Molly paused. “Although, now that I’m considering the matter, butts are fine too. So are mouths. I didn’t mean to be so vagina-centric.”
Lise cast a gimlet eye upon her. “Very generous of you, Dearborn.”
“And a bed doesn’t need to be involved either.” Molly spread her hands, a benefactor demonstrating the impressive breadth of her compassion and munificence. “I’m fine with a couch, or the back seat of a car, or wherever you decide to get busy. The world is your slutty oyster, my friend.”
There. That should do it. Problem solved. No way Lise was finding some rando and dragging him into bed, especially not in the next three days.
Lise slumped forward, propping her chin on her folded arms. “Unfair, Mol. You know my seduction skills are rusty at best, nonexistent at worst.”
“Perhaps. But that’s my condition for staying.” Molly grinned at her. “And if your seduction skills are rusty, consider this your opportunity to hone them again.”
Satisfied, she tossed back the last of her cocktail, thunked the glass onto the table, and waited for Lise to concede defeat.
And waited.
And waited.
On the tavern’s small stage, some dude in breeches was doing his best Pat Benatar impression, accusing his significant other of being a harp-breaker, mess-maker, string-taker, before warning against further injury to his collection of musical instruments.
Once he got past the shaky opening, he wasn’t half bad. Feeling loose and warm, Molly clapped along and whistled appreciatively at the next chorus.
Meanwhile, Lise’s mouth worked as she glared across the table and considered the offer. Her fingertips tapped the glass of her ginger ale bottle.
“Fine,” she finally muttered. “I’ll do it.”
It was loud. Molly had obviously misheard her. “Excuse me?”
“I agree to your condition.” This time, she enunciated each syllable in a clear, loud voice.
But there’d been some misunderstanding, clearly. Because Lise wouldn’t ever say yes to such a—
