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“Since we started sexting,” Julian returned, unflinching. Then, before Garrett could ask more, Julian lifted his cell phone and read a message. “Damn, this girl turns me on.” He pretended to text Molly back and took his sweet, sweet time about it. Though in reality he was just telling her:
He knows. Guy’s going bananas. Tell you about it @ dinner.
Garrett shot him a murderous glare. “Does Kate know about this sexting/moving-in…relationship?”
“Probably, unless she’s too busy catering for her next event. She is Molly’s sister, after all.”
Just then, Molly’s response popped up:
No wonder Kate and Garrett get along so well.
Julian quickly typed in:
I suppose Kate no longer worships the ground I tread on?
Molly replied:
Affirmative. Be careful, lover. She has a spatula and she’s not afraid to use it as a weapon.
Julian’s lips curled in amusement. Ahh, Molly. Light of his life.
“So which part was it?”
Julian gazed blankly up at Garrett, who almost had steam coming out of his ears. “Which part was what?” he asked.
“Which part of what Mother, Landon and I have been telling you for, oh…say, two decades, did you not get? The part that Molly Devaney was hands-off? The part that you could be disowned if you harmed her in any way?”
Julian nodded to placate him. “I heard you all. I heard you the first time, the tenth time, the hundredth time and I hear you now. Now hear this, bro.” He leaned forward across the conference table and scowled. “I don’t. Freaking. Care. Do you…get that?”
Garrett clenched his jaw and drew in a breath that inflated his chest. The guy was so rankled, he was probably about a step away from banging his chest like Tarzan. “I’m going to have words with Molly, as I am sure it is in her best interests to reconsider this stupidity. Just know this, Julian…if you hurt her, if you so much as harm a hair on her head…”
He didn’t know if it was the threat, or the possessive way Garrett was acting toward Molly or the simple fact that Molly fancied herself in love with the guy. Worse, he feared it might be due to the fact that Garrett wanted Molly for himself. But Julian’s cool began to fade, and it took an inhuman effort to keep the mask on his face.
Suddenly transported back to his teenage years, he too easily remembered all those damned times he and Molly tried to get close. The special bond you forged with someone, one that is rare and precious and you’d be lucky to find in your lifetime—Julian had always had that with her. But every time their friendship threatened to develop into something more romantic, his family would panic and they’d swoop down like vultures to emotionally blackmail, harass and coerce him to keep them apart. More than once, he’d even been sent abroad for months, the first time apparently because Julian had been “looking” at Molly in a way that neither Kate, Landon, nor their mother—and especially not Garrett—had liked.
Julian had told himself time and again that he didn’t care. And once he was an adult, they’d made him believe he was a playboy until he had no other choice but to play the part. He could have any woman—they always told him—except Kate or Molly. That was the rule.
And every year of his life, that single, simple rule had made him feel tied up, caged like a lion, and as unhappy as a penned-up bull.
Now the command from his brother to stay away from the only woman who truly knew him made a fresh surge of anger rise up from within him. No matter what Molly thought now, or what Garrett planned to do, this was Julian’s future on the line—and he had been planning it for years. No one was going to mess with that future. Or with his red-haired, paint-streaked little gypsy girl. Or with him.
Especially when he intended to use this fake relationship with Molly to explore his very real feelings for her.
Quietly and with deliberate slowness, Julian rose to his feet, came around the table and set a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Then he whispered, very mildly, but with an edge, “Stay out of this, Garrett. I don’t want to hurt you, man, and I definitely don’t want to hurt her. So just stay the hell out of this.”
Then he grabbed his jacket, reclaimed his cool and stalked out of his office.
* * *
“I can’t believe it. I really can’t. I just know you’re pulling my leg, Molly.”
Propped up on a stool by the granite island in the Devaneys’ kitchen while her sister decorated newly baked cookies, Molly focused on filing her nails, her stomach fluttering with excitement over this being her first night as Julian’s fake girlfriend. She could hardly wait to see the expression on Garrett’s dark, riveting face when he eventually saw them together. Hopefully, Julian would drape his arm around her shoulders in that aloof, sexy manner he had, in a way that said she’s my girl and aren’t I the hottest ticket around?
“I’m not pulling anything, I swear,” Molly assured her. “You can totally call Julian and ask him.”
Kate held up her spatula in the air, her auburn-red hair—the same shade as Molly’s—haphazardly knotted atop her beautiful face. She exuded such raw sexiness while wearing that frilly white apron that Molly could’ve hated her if she didn’t love her sister so utterly.
If there was one word to describe Kate Devaney, it would be alive. Kate thrived doing everything and anything, which explained the rocking success of her catering business; she was a killer cook with killer curves, tall and tanned and confident and fun.
