Page 12 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Seven

And no wonder! Molly thought as she sipped her tea, reflecting on the article she’d read about him on the Internet, which claimed he not only cheated on his fiancée by having an affair with the coach’s wife, but was suspended one year for drugs. The Dublin Devils’ top player’s fall from grace, splashed across every tabloid in the EU.

She watched as he seeped his tea bag with fast, short jabs up and down like a man pumping for water during a drought, and tried to reconcile the congenial and genuinely caring man she’d seen at the hospital with the same cheat and user who’d made a pass while she was sleeping. Somehow the two didn’t fit, and yet wasn’t that a distinctive talent of a player? Able to charm a bird out of a tree?

Well, not this bird, Molly decided, reconfirming all over again what she already knew: in spite of the fact that they lived in the same house, she needed to stay as far away from Brec McGill as she possibly could. Her lips canted as she took another sip of her tea. Like Chase and Cat’s cabin on the other side of the lake … Peeking at the sunburst clock over the stove, she upended her tea and faked a yawn, pushing away from the table with a weary smile. “Well, it’s been a long day, Brec,” she said as she stood, ready to push her chair back in.

“Wait—don’t go yet—please?” Something in those blue-green eyes stopped her cold, a raw plea that caught her completely off-guard. The same appeal wounded soldiers used to give her when they wanted her to stay, talk, and keep the fear and loneliness away.

He shrugged those massive shoulders as he pinched the back of his neck, obviously ill at ease over having to beg. Something she suspected he seldom had to do, especially with women. “It’s only just after nine, Molly, so stay and talk a little longer? Please?”

Staring at him for several seconds, the caretaker in her won out as she reclaimed her chair. “Sure.” She cast a quick look over her shoulder at the tea kettle before arching a brow. “More tea?”

“No, just company.” His Adam’s apple ducked several times while he leaned back in his chair, bicep bulging as he latched a hand to the back of his neck and eyes in a distant stare. “Seeing Aunt Lilly today … well, it set me back more than I expected. Other than a letter or Christmas card here and there, I haven’t seen her since Uncle Hal’s or my dad’s”—his eyelids drifted closed as his throat bobbed in another hard swallow— “well, you know. l guess I didn’t … expect to feel this way.”

“What way is that?” she asked, heart softening at his tortured look, which bore not a speck of the player she’d seen up till now.

He hesitated, mouth compressing. “I don’t know,” he said, head bowed as he gouged both temples with the span of one hand, “scared, lost, sick”—his Adam’s apple dipped once more— “ashamed.”

Her chest constricted. “Well, you’re here now, Brec, and it’s a new day, so you have the chance to start over.”

He peered up beneath his hand, a sense of peace settling over his features. “I hope so,” he whispered, gratitude glazing his eyes. “Thank you, Molly.” Blasting out a noisy sigh, he seemed to finally relax with a loose fold of arms and head resting on the back of the chair. “So, help me get my mind off my own selfish guilt and tell me about you. You were a nurse in the Navy, so I’m assuming you’ll be looking for a job at a hospital after Aunt Lilly doesn’t need a caretaker anymore?”

“Not sure.” She tipped her head in thought. “Maybe a mystery writer by day and a private detective by night.”

His brows shot up. “I’d say that’s quite a departure from nursing.”

She gave a faint smile as she played with her empty mug, slowly twirling it with her thumbs. “Military nursing was so brutal that I guess I needed a break from busted skulls and bodies for a while, so I got a job at the Charleston P.D.” Her nose wrinkled. “Or I should say my cheating ex got me the job as an evidence technician there since he landed a detective gig after we both got out of the Navy.” She shrugged, the smile easing into a grin. “So I decided to do the ‘busting’ instead, putting the bad guys behind bars. After all, the Navy trained me in marksmanship, so why not use it?”

“Why not, indeed?” he said with a teasing clear of his throat, shifting in the chair as if uncomfortable. “A detective, eh? To feed your voracious appetite for solving crimes, I suppose, given your passion for reading”—he arched a brow—“and possibly writing, mystery novels.” He squinted as if assessing her capability for such a career. “I must say, you strike me as a wee bit too feminine and sweet to bust heads, Goldilocks, but then I suppose that’s a perfect cover because you sure fooled me.”

A smile bloomed on her lips. “Right, that’s what I think too, the perfect cover! Because what I don’t have in intimidation, I make up for in curiosity, which is a key factor in being a good detective, right?”

His smile matched hers. “I’d say so.” He paused, face angled in question. “And the fiancé? Were you hoping to eventually partner with him as a detective?”

Her smile twisted off-center. “That was my plan, of course, but he always said I didn’t have the DNA to be a detective. Too sweet, too soft”—her nose scrunched in distaste—“too afraid of little things like spiders and snakes to have what it takes to be hardcore like a detective needs to be.”

Brec idly scratched the back of his head, a crooked smile easing across his lips. “Oh, I don’t know, lass. I’d say a loaded gun under your pillow is an awfully good start.”

Her chin nudged up. “I do too, but Tyler just laughed and said a gun’s no good unless you have the mettle to pull the trigger.” Her mouth thinned along with her gaze. “I’ll show him ‘mettle.’ He’s lucky the gun was under my pillow instead of in my purse when I walked in on him ‘partnering’ with my roommate while I was out of town.”

“Ouch.” Brec’s gaze gentled. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

“Me too,” she said with another hike of her chin, “but I thank God every single day that I found out before we tied the knot.”

“Yeah.” He gritted a smile as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m pretty sure my fiancée feels much the same.”

“Well, then, here we both are,” she said with a carefree lift of her palms, “each starting over with a common bond in our love for Miss Lilly. There’s got to be a truce in there somewhere.”

He studied her beneath dark lashes, gaze cautious but kind. “I thought there already was.”

“Yes there is, Brec, Little Pelé, Beck, Striker Man McGill, so I’m hoping we can keep it that way for Miss Lilly’s sake and ours.”

His mouth expanded with a sleepy yawn, and she immediately shot to her feet. “And I’m hoping both of us can catch up on our sleep tonight because that yawn says you could use it as much as me. Besides, living in the same house, I assure you we’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

Pushing her chair in, she took both his and her mugs to the sink and rinsed them out, lobbing a tired grin over her shoulder. “I’ll leave all coffee-making to you since I don’t want to jeopardize our truce.”

“Capital idea, lass.” Standing up with a wide stretch, he grinned while he pushed in his chair. “I’ll set the pot tonight, then.”