Page 30 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Thud!

Molly shot up from the sofa like a Roman candle and just as hot, a blanket tumbling off her body to the floor where she’d just flipped Brec. Groaning, he put a hand to his head, which obviously hit the coffee table from the red mark on his brow. “Jaker’s, woman, what the devil was that?”

“A stroke of luck, Prince Charming, that I wasn’t packing heat.” She glared, arms bolted to her waist in a tight cross to keep from shaking, shivers of shock, anger, and a quivery feeling in her limbs she didn’t want to acknowledge. “You are nothing but a wolf, Strike-out Boy! What is it with you anyway, kissing women when they’re asleep?”

He sat up, kneading a shoulder while he rolled his neck with a grimace. “The movie was over, so I was just trying to awaken you, Princess.”

Lips pursed in a scowl, she tapped a toe on the braided rug. “You know what, Beck? You can’t be very smart, trying that twice.”

“Apparently,” he said, tone dry as he lumbered up. “And I thought the gun was bad. You pack a mean wallop, Stewart, you know that?”

“Yes, I do”—she bit back a grin that came out as a smirk— “black belt, if you must know, so it would be wise for you to remember that.”

He gingerly touched the bruise on his forehead, which was just now swelling into a goose egg. “Etched in my brain, I assure you, Beauty—literally.”

Her smile broke through as she picked up the blanket to fold it, nose in a scrunch. “You know what, Beck? You may be real nice to look at, but you’re not a real quick study.”

Hunching his shoulders, he looked like a chastened little boy as he rubbed the side of his jaw, peering up beneath decadent dark lashes way too thick for a man. “Yeah, well, usually I’m pretty adept at reading females, but then I just assumed the gun was for strangers.”

He grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, then laid it back down, a thread of hurt in his tone as he picked up the popcorn bowl with a sheepish smile. “I do apologize, Molly, but in all honesty, my only intent was to wake you up, I swear. But sweet St. Brigid’s cross”—he awkwardly cuffed the back of his head—“you wouldn’t budge an inch, lass.”

Whoops. She bit her lip, suddenly remembering the sleeping pill she’d taken.

“And then you looked so bloomin’ deadly,” he said, “just lying there all innocent and irresistible …”

She lashed her chin up, unwilling for his sweet words to sidetrack her intent. “Which I wouldn’t be for long if I got involved with the likes of you, buster, so I strongly recommend the next time you get a bonehead idea like kissing me, you resist, all right? Because this”—she wagged a finger between them— “you and me? It’s never going to happen, Strike-out Boy, not only because I have an aversion to players, but because for all your devastating looks and charm?” She wrinkled her nose, hoping to soften the sharp point she needed to make. “I’m afraid you’re missing the most important thing.”

He rubbed his head with a crooked smile. “A helmet?”

She laughed before her grin faded, thinking how easy it would be to fall in love with this man if only ... “Yeah,” she said with a sad smile, “And a whole lot more faith.”

The tease in his eyes dimmed as he covered with a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am”—he extended a hand with a hopeful smile—“so, truce? Because I’d hate to think that one bonehead move—”

“One?” Slacking a hip, she arched a brow.

His smile took a slant. “Oh, all right—two bonehead moves—would jeopardize a month of living together as buddies, TV chums, and poker pals, ruining the benefits we’ve enjoyed as friends. So … forgiven?”

Arms in a fold, she studied him through slatted eyes, in total agreement that they had become good friends over the last month despite all the annoying flutters and attraction she’d been feeling of late. And they did have to live together in the same house after all, she surmised, in light of their relationships with Miss Lilly. Which meant shoring up their friendship was all the more imperative in spite of any chemistry that existed and especially because of it. Huffing out a noisy sigh, she finally placed her hand in his to seal the deal with a handshake. “Forgiven.”

His posture immediately relaxed as he flashed a relieved grin. “Good. Because I don’t have many friendships with women, Molly, which makes yours all the more precious. I would hate to lose the benefits of a good friend.”

“Me too, Beck,” she said with a hike of her chin, pinning him with a look that was both a smile and a warning. “As long as you keep in mind that this good friend comes without benefits.”