Page 94 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Fifty-One

The moment Sloan opened the front door, Molly felt the sting of the wind, unfortunately in harmony with the sting of her heart.

Forget their conversation in the kitchen? Her fingers shook as she buttoned up her coat, Brec’s final words swirling in her brain. Sweet Lord in heaven, as if she could think of anything else!

Brec was in love with her.

And she was pretty sure she was in love with him too, despite her reluctance to commit until she felt the peace of God in the decision. With a tight cross of arms, she tucked her bare fingers into their warmth as she peeked up at a man she knew she could fall in love with too.

If not for one Irish player.

Correction: One former Irish player!

“I thought I’d make it easy for you,” he said quietly on the other side, clicking the door closed before shuffling into his own jacket.

“What do you mean?” She hugged her waist, the warmth in her cheeks in direct contrast to the bite of the cold.

He offered a faint smile, the effect sad as he buried his hands deep into his pockets. “I think you know what I mean, Molly. Brec has serious feelings for you, my friend, and I think you have serious feelings for him. So, I guess that leaves me with just one question.” He shifted, pausing with head bowed as he pinned her with a gentle stare. “Am I right?”

Her heart broke just a little as she reached to lay a gentle hand on his arm, peering up with true regret in her eyes. “I never meant for it to happen, Sloan, and neither did Brec. Players aren’t my style, so I did everything possible to avoid these feelings for him and him for me, but something happened.” Offering a half-hearted shrug, she hugged her waist once again. “He started to change, draw close to his roots with Miss Lilly once again, and most importantly, rekindled his faith.”

Sloan gave a slow nod. “So I noticed, and that’s a good thing I guess”—his smile took a twist—“except for me.”

“I am so sorry, Sloan”—she ducked her head in apology—“forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive, Molly. I’m a firm believer in God’s direction for my life, especially if I’ve invested in prayer, which I have”—he ducked his head like she had, tone teasing—“so I’m happy to chalk this up as ‘not meant to be.’” He reached to tug on a lock of her hair with a wry smile. “Even if I’m not happy about it.”

Chewing on the edge of her smile, she stuck out her hand. “So, friends?”

He shook it and held on tight. “Good friends, Miss Stewart, so if that clown ever gives you any problems, you just let me know, okay?”

She grinned. “Oooo, my own personal bodyguard. I like that.”

“You bet, ma’am, and I can even throw him in jail if you want, which I assure you, I would be most happy to do.”

Her smile softened to serious. “Thank you, Sloan. You’re quite a guy, mister, and one I could have easily fallen for if not for that annoying Irishman in there.”

“He is rather annoying, isn’t he?” Grinning, he glanced at his watch while he stifled a yawn. “Well, I need to head out.” He gave her a quick hug. “Good night, Molly, and I wish you both well.”

“Good night, Sloan,” she called as he made his way to his car. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “And I wish you well too, my friend.”

Chest expanding with a weighty sigh, Molly glanced up at the host of stars glimmering in the sky. “One down, one to go. I’m going to need your help, you know, so don’t let me go in there alone.” With a brisk rub of her arms, she turned and slipped inside, locking the door behind. One glance at the darkened house lit only by the dim light of the kitchen told her everyone had gone to bed, and disappointment stabbed. “Oh, poo,” she said softly, “I was hoping to get this settled once and for all tonight.”

“Me too,” a low voice affirmed from the shadows of the great room, where Brec slowly stood and moved into view, obviously having waited for her on the love seat on the far side of the room. “Because I’m not sure how much more my heart can take, lass.”

“Mine either, Soccer Boy, so I guess it’s time to lay my cards on the table.” She moved into the darkened room past him to plop down on the love seat.

He followed her with a tentative air, sitting down and slowly shifting to face her. “You can lay down all the cards you want, Molly girl, as long as I win the game.”

“Mmm … all the cards I want, huh? Well, Brec, I’m glad you said that because I do have a few cards up my sleeve.”

One edge of his lip tipped up. “As long as it’s not the whole bloomin’ deck, Princess, I think I can handle it.”

“I think you can too, Striker Man, so I’ll give it to you straight.” She faced him head-on, heart swelling with love for this unlikely soul mate who had caught her by surprise. “I’m in love with you, too, Brec, and there’s only two things standing in the way of my expressing that fully and completely to you and you alone, loving you heart and soul.”

He sat up straighter, the hesitancy in his manner easing into a familiar cockiness that she now knew was all facade. “No Kennedy in the picture?”

She shook her head. “I told him tonight. Or rather he told me,” she said with a wry smile, “gracious enough to back off because he knows we’re in love, so you owe him, Soccer Boy.”

“Later,” he snapped, his gaze darkening as it flicked to her lips and back. “You mentioned something about full expression of love?” He eased closer to slip an arm to her waist. “I sure like the sound of that …” His smile was both wicked and cocky as he bent to kiss her.

Thud. She slapped two palms firmly against his chest before his lips could even touch hers, her chin nudging up a hair. “But first, big boy,” she said with a firm arch of her brow, “I have a few cards to lay on the table.”