Huh?
Opening his eyes, he waved that off. “I fucking love that you want me, Dearborn. Makes me feel like...” What was the comparison he’d come up with the other day? “LikeGodzilla.”
She blinked at him. “Poised to destroy downtown Tokyo?”
At that bit of deliberate obtuseness, his middle finger made a reappearance. “Powerful. Taller than a skyscraper. Ready to beat my chest.”
“Beat your...” Her forehead smoothed, and she shook her head at him. “You’re thinking of King Kong. Who’s a primate, not a lizard.”
“Reptile.”
“Whatever.” She poked him with her quilt-covered foot. “Get to the point, Dean.”
“You’re the one who questioned my Godzilla comparison, woman.” He captured her ankle. Tickled her toes until she squeaked. “Anyway, as I wastryingto say before some nitpicky asshole derailed me—”
“Your train jumped the tracks long before you met me, and we both know it.”
“—I don’t feel pressured by you. I feel desired. Different thing entirely.” He shook his head. Tickled her arch some more. “That’s not the issue. Not why I was thinking for so long.”
“Okay, then.” She jerked her foot free. Lightly kicked him, for good measure. “Whatisthe issue?”
These days, he had more damn issues thanCorporations Monthly. But right this very second—“I’m worried you think I’m using sexto pressureyou. I’m not, Molly. Swear to Christ, I’m not. You don’t have to somehowearnit by telling me shit you don’t want to.”
This was the most ridiculous conversation of his entire life. In what universe was access to his dick something he could use as a potentialbargaining chip? Even inadvertently?
He was a small-town baker, for fuck’s sake. Not the world’s crankiest gigolo.
“I know that, Karl. Don’t worry. I’m just being dramatic.” She considered that for a moment. “Which isn’t something I do often in real life. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”
“Nope. I’d remember.”
“Figurativelyrubbing off on me.” She side-eyed him while he snickered at his own joke. “Okay, then. Let’s get this over with. Give me your dick, withhold your dick, do whatever you want with it. No matter what, I’m telling you my secret, so shut up and listen, Dean.”
Long as she didn’t feel coerced? He’d listen to whatever she wanted to tell him. Gladly.
The breeze blew her hair across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. Nodded to herself. Started talking, her tone blunt and matter-of-fact.
“My doctor is worried about me. Worried about my health. Mental. Physical. All of it.” Her fingers plucked at the edge of the quilt, although she held his gaze. “The only other person on this planet who knows that is Rob, but he hasn’t gotten any updates for years now, so he doesn’t realize the full scope of the problem.”
She paused. “Problems, rather. Plural. Insomnia. Rising blood pressure. Headaches.”
Shit. That sounded fuckingserious.
The phone conversation he’d overheard last weekend cameback to Karl.Your health is suffering, the asshole had told her, then blamed everything on her house. Which was very fucking convenient, since the bastard wanted to snatch it from her.
“And it’s not just my doctor,” she added. “I’m worried too. Scared about what might happen if I don’t lower my stress level. But I can’t seem to do it.”
If Molly and her doctor were anxious about her health? That made three of ’em.
“What the hell’s causing all your stress?” He leaned forward. Claimed her foot again, wrapping his hand around her arch and feeling its warmth, its strength. “Work? Family? Where you live?”
“I love my job. My house too, even though it needs a lot of maintenance.” Her mouth twisted. “I think part of the issue is isolation, even after so many years in LA. I didn’t grow up there. My college friends are scattered all over the country. I’m divorced, I work from home, and... you know how I am. I tend to keep my distance from everyone.”
For some stupid reason, it’d never occurred to him before: He and Dearborn both did that. In very different ways, but... yeah. Main difference? Karl had people who’d forcefully shoved their way into his life in Harlot’s Bay. Not to mention—
“What about your family?” Matthew and Athena were right: He should know this already. Why hadn’t he asked long before now? “You have one set of grandparents in Arizona, but where’s everyone else?”
Sure, Karl lived in his parents’ old house, but they hadn’t moved far away. Just to a little single-story duplex on the outskirts of town, one they could easily maintain. All his siblings had settled somewhere between Harlot’s Bay and DC, and Emily—the youngest Dean kid—had her CPA office just down the street from Grounds and Grains and did the bakery’s books.
