Bring Your Own Murder Weapon, Matthew helpfully supplied.Our kitchen knives aren’t particularly sharp.
After sending four entire rows of dagger emojis interspersed with skulls, Karl ended the conversation by turning off his phone. Because even a stubborn, cranky bastard like him knew when to admit defeat.
Also because he was already feeling better.
Not that he’d ever tell those two assholes.
“Got no idea what the woman needs from me,” Karl informed Matthew and Athena early that evening. “The two of us? Chemistry to burn. History. Friendship. But all that’s not enough to make her trust me. Not the way I want her to, down to her bones, and I don’t get why.”
After more bakery prep, he’d come straight to their row house. Which had changed over the past year, since Matthew married Athena. In a good way. Fewer heavy, dark, uncomfortable furniture pieces inherited from his useless parents. More bright colors and clutter. Felt way more like a home.
The den now had an overstuffed couch that embraced Karl like a hug when he sank into it. When the duo led him upstairs, he promptly plunked himself down there. Matthew perched on the other end of the cushy sofa in his rumpled tee and jeans, while Athena lounged on a velvet brocade fainting couch or chaise or whatever the hell you called that shit, her skirt spread around her in a semicircle, glasses slightly askew.
Made his heart lighter to see her looking so happy and confident after the rough patch she’d had. Especially since she was—as he told her each time they met—a potato-obsessed pain in the ass, and ifshe’dfound love and happiness? Maybe he had a shot too.
Before he took it, though, he had to improve his goddamn aim.
“Need your help,” he concluded. “You two have this relationship shit down, so—”
“Plus, we’re not easily intimidated by your threats to stab us. That makes us particularly useful helpers, I think you’ll agree.”
“—I hoped you might be able to give me advice,” he grufflyfinished, ignoring Athena’s interruption, then forced the next word from his resistant vocal cords. “Please.”
She and Matthew exchanged glances in that irritating, wordless communication some couples had. Exactly the sort of communication that best suited Karl and that none of his past relationships had ever achieved.
Matthew nodded a little, then turned to Karl. “Tell us what you like about Molly.”
Odd question. Easy one, though. Could’ve given a thousand-part list. Instead, he boiled the pool of reasons down to essentials.
“Never get sick of her company. Being around her, talking to her... it’s easy. Fun. Doesn’t make me feel like throttling anyone.” The sun shone brighter in Molly Dearborn’s presence. Simple matter of fact. “Rare for me. You know that.”
Athena snorted. “The entire population of Harlot’s Bay comprehends its rarity. Probably all of the Eastern seaboard too.”
Matthew rolled his lips between his teeth. Trying not to smile, the wife-adoring bastard.
“So I like her,” Karl continued, and he deserved a damn medal for disregarding Greydon’s blatant provocation. “Admire her too. Smart, funny, capable. Sexy as hell. Willing to call me on my crap.”
He loved that about her. Half the time, he made his threats ridiculous on purpose, because he wanted to hear her inevitable pedantic analysis of their feasibility.
The other half?
Well, the world could be infuriating, and he was a cranky asshole. An occasional over-the-top response to bullshit was inevitable, which Dearborn seemed to realize. Even appreciate. Or at least find amusing, which was good enough for Karl.
“Molly fucking Dearborn?” He shook his head. “Everything I’ve always wanted. For over half my goddamn life now.”
Sure, he’d dated other women. For a few weeks or a few months, until they’d gotten tired of his baker’s schedule—bed at seven, up at three—or concluded he was toowithholding. Too cranky. Not open enough about his emotions. Other times, things just hadn’t clicked quite right, and he and his partners had separated by mutual agreement.
Nothing had worked long-term. No one had loved him, even when he’d given them as much of his heart as he had available. All the parts Molly hadn’t already claimed long before.
For the first time, that didn’t hurt anymore.
Like he’d just told his friends, no other woman but Molly had ever left him gasping for air at the mere sight of her. No other woman had ever made him feel so comfortable and understood, so valued andwanted. No other woman had ever amused him, infuriated him, and excited him, all at the same time.
So if he and his previous girlfriends hadn’t been willing to call what they had togetherlove? No fucking wonder. Those relationships had ended for good reason. Left him with zero regrets, especially now that Molly was back in his life.
Matthew and Athena exchanged more of those annoying, significant glances.
“Okay. Those are all excellent reasons to like her.” Matthew sat forward. Idly rubbed at his stubbly jaw. “Have you told her any of them?”
