Page 95 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Fifty-Two

Molly bit back a smile when a low groan trailed from Brec’s lips. Plopping back against the love seat, he huffed out a noisy sigh. “For crying out loud, Molly, I know you want a man of faith, which I assure you I am, thanks to the incessant badgering of both Aunt Lilly and you.”

She tipped her head. “I know, but that’s not it. And what do you mean, ‘badgering’?”

“That’s not it?” He blinked, some of the cocky façade fading from his face.

“Nope. I already know you’re a man of faith, Brec, because Miss Lilly told me so. Says you not only recommitted your life to God, but you’ve taken to reading your Bible on your own as well, plying her with questions till the poor woman falls asleep. And I’ve noticed you actually pay attention in church now instead of dozing off, although I will admit your singing leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Then, what?” he said, brows bunched and mouth gaping, completely ignoring her attempt at humor. “You want a fast of bread and water?”

She reached for his hand and held it with both of hers, kissing his palm. “In a sense,” she said softly, praying he didn’t hurl her hand back into her face. “I want you to honor my commitment to purity.”

His face went white. “What the devil does that mean?”

“It means, Brec, that if you and I begin to date, we can snuggle and kiss, but nothing more.”

He jerked his hand away. “What?” A storm brewed in his eyes. “What happened to loving me heart and soul?”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Molly couldn’t help it. She wagged her finger back and forth with a twitch of a smile. “I never said anything about ‘body,’ Strike-out Boy.”

“So, let me get this straight, lass.” He ducked his head to squint at her with a scowl. “We can date till the cows come home, but with nothing more than kisses?”

She bit back a grin that ended up as a smirk. “Hmmm … the boy’s catching on. But no worries,” she said sweetly, “if those terms are too tough for you, Soccer Boy, I know a detective out there who is more than willing to comply.”

He pinned her with a threatening look. “Over my dead body.” Glancing away, he slashed blunt fingers through his hair and unleashed a loud blast of air, confirming he didn’t like the terms. “All right, Princess, kisses only while we’re dating.” He turned back, wagging a warning finger. “But if we get serious, Miss Stewart, enough to commit, all bets are off, understood?”

“Define ‘commit.’” Molly arched a brow, folding her arms across her chest.

“I don’t know.” Brec gave an awkward shrug, flinging an impatient hand in the air. “Exclusive, I guess.”

She bit back a grin. “Uh, excuse me, Striker Boy, but I rather thought ‘dating’ accomplished that”—she splayed a hand to her chest, feigning innocence with a lift of her brows— “unless, of course, your version of ‘dating means we can also date others?”

“Ex-clu-sive with a fu-ture,” he enunciated none too nicely through gritted teeth, and it was all Molly could do to not bust out laughing. Poor Brec. Falls in love and expects to pick right up where his old life left off.

Yeah, good luck with that, buster.

Maintaining a serious air—which wasn’t easy given the tic in Soccer Boy’s cheek—Molly offered a naïve nod of her head, having way too much fun tweaking the former player in him. God bless the boy—he’d probably break out in a rash if she said the word “engaged.”

She leaned to deposit a quick kiss to his cheek. “Oh, you mean an engagement!” she said with great enthusiasm, which was clearly not matched by him.

His Adam’s apple ducked several times, and Molly could swear she smelled the burn of rubber meeting the road. “Yeah, I guess … like that.”

“Okay, just so I have this straight,” she said with another slow nod, you would expect more intimacies after we’re engaged?”

He pulled back, brow in a crimp like she was a simpleton. “Well, duh, Molly, naturally. For crikey’s sake, lass, we’ll practically be married!”

Her heart stalled. “Except we actually won’t be, Brec,” she said quietly, suddenly not finding this a bit funny anymore, “which means no intimacies till we’re man and wife.”

He blinked, clearly caught off-guard.

“So, if you can’t handle celibacy till we tie the knot …”

“I can handle it just fine,” he snapped, “as I have more than proven over the last six months and will again. But in case you missed it, Sleeping Beauty, this is the 21st century, not the Middle Ages. When it comes to intimacies, nobody waits for marriage anymore.”

Her chin hiked up. “I do, and if you don’t, Striker Boy, just let me know right now because that same detective who’s willing to comply? Said to let him know if you gave me any trouble.”

A swear word hissed from his lips as he gouged stiff fingers through his hair a second time, disrupting those black curls as much as this conversation was disrupting her. He finally jabbed a finger right beneath her nose. “You’re testing my limits, Molly.”