“Karl...” She waved a hand, encompassing his tux, the calla lilies, the limousine. “This is more than enough.”
Not for Molly goddamn Dearborn. Not even close. But hewasn’t arguing with her when he’d rather be admiring her. Or, even better, stripping that suit off her gorgeous body and—
Nope. Not thinking about that.
Climbing into a shared limo with a hard-on? Inappropriate as hell. Plus, Greydon would never let him hear the end of it. Start calling him Honey Bunches of Cock or some shit.
“Thought we’d ride with Matthew and Athena,” he told Molly. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” She smiled at him, grabbed his hand, and headed for the door. “I figured that’d be the plan. And I’m glad you’re not having me make my grand reunion entrance alone, despite your teen-movie aspirations.”
As if he would ever willingly watch her leave him behind.
They stepped outside. And as he waited for her to fiddle with her sleek clutch purse and lock up behind them, he basked in her presence. Hungrily studied her beautiful sunlit face, something he hadn’t been able to do for way the hell too long.
Since Wednesday, he’d spent almost no time with her during daylight hours. Two minutes after he’d opened the bakery that morning, Janel had called. The reunion caterer had backed out unexpectedly, leaving her in a bind, and she’d wanted to hire him instead. For the dance, but also the Friday evening picnic on Ladywright College grounds.
He’d wanted to say no. But who else could Janel call at the last minute and be sure the caterers wouldn’t screw everything up? No one. Besides, Charlotte and Johnathan had offered to help, and they could use the extra cash.
Coordinating with the two employees had gone better than he’d expected. Both of them worked hard—Jonathan on logistics andfood prep, Charlotte on baking under Karl’s direct guidance—and didn’t complain once, despite their boss’s shitty mood.
Still. Molly’s final scheduled week in Harlot’s Bay, and where was his pathetic ass?
Not holding her tight in bed. Not making her bougie lattes and sandwiches. Not lying on a blanket with her under the autumn sky, napping and talking. Instead, he’d spent three days bent over a stainless-steel table in his overheated, overcrowded, fluorescent-lit back room, giving directions and baking goddamn canapés. Like a chump.
His only consolation? Almost every evening that week, once he’d left work, he and Molly had taken a moonlit walk around Historic Harlot’s Bay, hand in hand. Because if her blood pressure was getting too high, maybe going outdoors and stretching her legs might help. And yeah, Molly might’ve insisted on giving him a rubdown each night and refused to let him return the favor, despite his protests—but he’d bought her a crap ton of lavender-scented spa shit so she could take a long bath and relax right before bed too.
In case that didn’t work, he’d also been doing his best to wear her out with orgasms. Hands, mouth, dick, toys, whatever combo it took. She said all that coming helped her sleep better. Also made him feel like a damn king, so win-fucking-win.
Last night, though, they hadn’t even gotten their walk. Barely exchanged a private word. She’d spent the whole evening helping him, Charlotte, and Johnathan dole out the prepared food at the picnic while she made casual chitchat with their former classmates. By the time they’d cleaned up and made it back to his house, neither of them had the energy to do anything but collapse directly into bed. And in the morning, he hadn’t wanted to disturb her restless sleep, so he’d left for the bakery in the predawn darkness as quietly as possible.
Without even a quick goodbye hand job. It was a fucking travesty.
“Hey!” Athena’s cheerful voice called from the street. “You two look amazing!”
Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Molly. Spared a nod for Athena and Matthew, who’d emerged from their home and were walking toward the limo, arm in arm.
His best friend’s tux, black and classic, made him resemble James Bond—but only if double-oh-seven preferred reading medical texts and contemplating his life choices to killing international assholes and banging double agents. Athena shone like a sun against her husband’s night sky, all blond hair, bright red lipstick, and an even brighter grin. Her yellow-flowered, flowing dress rippled around her ankles as she walked, revealing... yep. Keds.
Both of them looked great. Glowing with happiness. One glance established that much.
After that glance, his attention returned to Molly as she tucked away her keys, strolled down the alleyway, and greeted her new friends.
He didn’t follow. He knew Athena pretty damn well by this point, and no one was going anywhere until outfits had been admired and gossip exchanged. Besides, appreciating Molly’s tight suit in motion, her unbound breasts subtly bouncing in the deep, open vee of the jacket, her ass swaying in midnight-blue satin, wasn’t something he intended to rush.
The main reason he didn’t move, though? Pure indecision.
Anytime he had a free moment—which hadn’t happened much this week—his mind arrowed straight to the same problem.
Two days. Two short days until Molly’s flight left for LAX. And neither of them had uttered a single word about that fast-approaching deadline.
Athena and Matthew kept saying he needed to broach the subject himself. But in Karl’s defense, he and Molly hadfeltlike a committed couple for a while now. Even if she left on Monday, they’d sure as hell date long-distance. Right?
That had to be enough. They didn’t need to talk specifics yet.
Even though not knowing what happened next was driving him goddamnbananas.
As Molly and Matthew gabbed about something or other, Athena caught Karl’s attention with a wave, bugged out her eyes, and mouthed,Tell. Her.
