Page 51 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Wait a minute—you taught him to shoot?” Sloan grinned as they sat around a campfire roasting marshmallows following a barbecue in Chase and Cat’s backyard, his mouth dropping open a little too much for Brec’s liking.

“Oh, yessiree, Bob … or Brec, I should say,” Molly quipped with a chuckle, blowing the flames on her marshmallow out before she slid a sideways wink at Brec on her right side. “Figured it was time the boy learned to shoot something off other than his mouth so he could become a straight shooter.”

Laughter echoed around the lake from the circle of Chase and Cat’s friends around the fire—from Aunt Lilly, Sloan, and Pastor Dave, to Cat’s sister, Shannon and her husband Sam, and their sister-in-law, Lacey, with her husband, Jack—all having a great time. At my expense, of course. Brec’s smile stiffened. Especially Sloan Kennedy, whose flirting with Molly got on Brec’s nerves. It was bad enough everybody assumed Aunt Lilly’s long-lost celebrity nephew was a big-time player who hadn’t been a “straight shooter” in the past, but to be mocked by the gun-totin’ deputy who had the hots for Molly? Well, that just scratched him raw.

“So, how’d he do?” Sloan asked, handing a Hershey bar to Molly on her right side.

Molly chuckled. “Pretty good if you don’t count the squirrel he almost hit twenty feet above the target.”

“Very funny, Princess,” he said with a droll smile. He pulled his stick from the fire to assess the flames scorching his marshmallow like her teasing scorched his ego. Usually he didn’t mind Molly’s teasing because it was part of their easy repartee that helped temper the simmering attraction always boiling beneath the surface. But these innocent barbs suddenly didn’t feel so innocent anymore, hitting way too close to home. Especially in front of her friends, who were now becoming his friends too. “Be sure not to tell them about the three bull’s-eyes I got, you little brat.”

“Oooo, fast study,” Cat said with a nod of approval, grinning along with her twin sister, Shannon, and sister-in-law, Lacey.

Laughing, Molly bumped Brec’s shoulder with her own, just as he was getting ready to blow out his marshmallow. “Well, ‘fast,’ anyway,” she teased, promptly topplingthe flaming goo onto his bare arm beneath his rolled-up sleeve, singeing both his hair and his pride.

Right before it plopped onto his brand-new Dolce & Gabbana jeans.

“Whoops.” Molly muffled a giggle with a hand to her mouth. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to set you on fire.”

Too late, he thought with a tight smile, annoyed the little brat had not only set his skin on fire, but his heart as well. “Well, if you’re not—you will be,” he whispered, sliding her a slatted look from the corner of his eyes as he sucked the marshmallow off his arm.

“Ewww, that had to hurt,” Cat’s sister Shannon said with a bite of her lip, jumping up to shoot a sympathetic smile Brec’s way before she hurried toward the house. “I’ll get a wet rag to help clean that up.”

“And club soda if you have it,” Miss Lilly added, giving Brec’s other arm a soothing pat.

“There’s some in the pantry, Shan,” Cat called over her shoulder while she peeled the paper off of a Hershey bar.

“I’d make her wash those jeans, buddy.” Chase plucked the Hershey bar right out of Cat’s hand, taking a bite before absently handing it back. He ignored her frown as he nodded to Sam and Jack. “And if you need medical attention, you might consider my pediatrician brothers-in-law here instead of Molly because she may be a nurse, but I’m not all that sure you can trust her.”

“No joke,” Brec said with a mock scowl, grateful when Shannon came running back out with the club soda and a wet rag. “Thanks, Shannon, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Of course she is—she’s the good twin, don’t you know.” Cat wagged her head back and forth as she prepared another s’more, handing it over to Shannon with a wink when she sat down.

“Here, since it was my fault, let me do that,” Molly said with a hang-dog look he didn’t believe for a moment, snatching the wet rag from his hand. She shifted to attend to the hairless red spot on his arm and paused, eyes expanding as she chewed on her lower lip. “Oh, gosh, Brec, it singed the hair right off your arm, and it looks like a blister is starting to bubble too.” She looked up, brows tented in concern as the rest of the group got back to chatter and s’mores. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as my pride,” he whispered with a shadow of a smile, gaze dropping to her lips before he could stop it.

He grinned when she jolted back, fully aware of the effect he had on her. His grin instantly tempered. Thesame effect she has on me, he thought with a press of his lips, jaw tight as she gently cleaned off his arm. Which was the problem. More and more living with Molly day in and day out was like an alcoholic living in a liquor store. The temptation was always around, and the closer they became, the harder it was to deny. His mouth skewed to the right.

Except for her.

She assessed his burn, which was just beginning to sting. “Gosh, Beck, as bad as this is starting to look, a pediatrician might be best.” She glanced up with a squirm of her lips. “And certainly more appropriate.”

Giggling at her own joke, she proceeded to pick up the glob of marshmallow off his jeans with a paper towel, face in a grimace. But not as much as him when she bent to clean the spot on his thigh with club soda. His body tensed while she rubbed in slow circles, the motion producing a heat that burned as much as the stupid blister on his arm.

“I’ll do that!” he snapped, grabbing the rag from her hand to finish the job.

“Gosh, touchy, touchy.” She handed him the bottle of club soda with a thread of hurt in her tone as she reached for his stick, spearing another marshmallow on the point. “I’ll toast you a new one because it’s the least I can do.”

No, not the least … Brec scoured his jeans with an intensity that could have put a hole in the denim, a perfect match for the one in his heart because he was pretty darn sure Molly had no intention of ever getting involved with the likes of him. No matter how close they’d become as friends.

“Anything biting, Cal?” Chase called out, and Brec glanced up along with everyone else to see a lone fisherman in the shadows of dusk, trolling in a boat along the shore.

“Nothing but mosquitoes, I’m afraid,” the man said with a rusty chuckle, casting his line just along the edge of Chase’s dock with practiced precision. “Better than catching flack from the wife, I guess, though, for layin’ on the couch.” He gave a wave. “Hey, there, Miss Lilly, how’ve you been feeling?”

“Good, Cal, and thank you again for the crappie you dropped off last week.” She patted Brec’s arm. “My nephew here is a gourmet chef, so he made some mighty fine eatin’ out of it.”