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The words swirled around her before they settled in her chest, setting off a mini explosion that sent tingles racing through her body. She might’ve been engaged before, but Molly knew for a fact that she’d never felt like this.
The music stopped, but the magnetic force pulled her closer to Grant. She was acutely aware of his touch, the way his thumb gently skimmed the surface of her cheek and how his hand felt on her back. He leaned closer, and she closed her eyes, anticipating his lips meeting hers. She honestly had never considered kissing him until right this moment, but now she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do. Or why she’d waited so long to do it.
“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing her throat broke the trance, and Molly’s eyes popped open. She stood there, still in Grant’s embrace, as whatever world they’d been in fell away and reality reemerged around them.
Grant’s face, which was only inches from hers, turned to the wedding coordinator, who was standing several feet away, her eyes looking anywhere but at them.
“Excuse me, Mr. Torres. It’s, uh, time for the brother-sister dance. We need you at the front when you’re, um, ready.”
Grant nodded once, his face lit up with the guilty grin of a school boy. “I’ll be right there.” Laughter danced in his eyes, and he pulled a face that was a combination of oops and amusement. Molly giggled. It’d been a long time since she’d been caught in an almost-kiss, and somehow it made her feel even closer to him. “I guess I gotta go. But hold that thought. We can finish this conversation later.” The unmistakable note of disappointment in his voice matched the yearning that tugged on her chest.
He brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead, which was a painfully lacking consolation prize for what she’d been anticipating. Reluctantly, she dropped her hands to her side, and he took a step back.
She watched him make his way to the front as she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttery emotions that were doing a conga line through her.
She had almost kissed Grant Torres.
The thought wasn’t quite as shocking as the fact that she still wanted to kiss Grant Torres. And she wanted that kiss to be the beginning of something special. What was happening here?
She’d spent the last two months fighting it, but the truth was, the draw between them was undeniable. He had captivated her from the very first time he’d walked into her clinic, and for good reason. The man was incredible on so many different levels. But where did that leave them? She slowly strolled to the edge of the dance floor, contemplating it.
Like she’d said before, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She came here with the specific purpose of not making connections. She certainly wasn’t supposed to fall in love—not that what was happening here was love. This was far from being the L-word.
But, hypothetically speaking, if she was willing to give love another try, Grant would be the kind of guy she’d be looking for. He was smart, funny, compassionate, and caring, not to mention easy on the eyes. He encouraged her in ways she’d never thought possible, gave her the confidence to become the person she wanted to be, the person she’d somehow lost along the way.
Of course, she wasn’t ready to go anywhere near forever, but she was no longer willing to settle for this undefined thing they had going on now. She wanted something more than a simple friendship. She wanted a them.
Yes, she was fully aware it got a bit complicated because they were both about to leave, but that was only logistics. They could figure it out. A weekend here, a couple days there. The fact they’d be keeping it casual with no long-term commitments would help with the long-distance thing.
She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter for the toast that would follow the dance and watched Grant chat with Claire as they waited for the band to start their song. It felt as if she were floating, which was different than how she’d expected to feel tonight. In fact, her whole experience in Emerald Cove had been different than what she’d expected when she’d pulled into town. But it was a good different. The kind of different that made the future seem bright for the first time in a long time.
“You ready for the big performance?” Mateo stepped up to her, holding his own champagne. “I hear they’ve been working on this dance. Should be entertaining.”
“Is it anything like the handshake?”
“That handshake was one hundred percent authentic. They’ve been doing it since they were kids.” He held his drink out in the direction of the dance floor in a gesture to the dance. “This is a new routine. I caught them practicing in the vet suite when no one was there, but got shooed out before I could see any of it.”
“So that’s what y’all use the vet suite for when I’m not there.”
“You didn’t know it doubled as a dance studio?” Mateo joked.
Molly sipped her drink and they stood there for a second in a somewhat awkward silence as they both stared at the dance floor in front of them.
“I hear Grant got the research director position at the university,” Mateo said, breaking the silence.
A fresh round of excitement fluttered through Molly. “I know. He’s going to be awesome at it.”
“He was made for the position,” Mateo agreed. “I only hope he can get over all his hesitations that are holding him back.”
Molly waved a dismissive hand in the air. “He’s worried about walking away from Turtle Rehab and you guys, but he knows you have things under control.”
He pulled his gaze away from the action on the dance floor and looked at her. She wouldn’t have necessarily classified it as accusatory, but it was significantly south of friendly. “I don’t think Claire and I are the only ones he’s worried about leaving.”
The comment stung a bit, stealing some of her bubbly joy. “Who, me?” Molly pressed her hand against her chest as she tried to figure out why Grant would turn down the job because of her. “I’m leaving Emerald Cove too. There’d be no reason for him to stick around for me.”
Mateo slowly nodded, as if considering that information. “What happens when you leave? Between the two of you, I mean.”
Heat flared in her cheeks, which she wanted to blame on anger, but she had a feeling it was more closely related to embarrassment. His best friend, his number-one wingman, was questioning her about her intentions. Suddenly the answer she’d thought was perfect a moment ago didn’t seem good enough. She swallowed hard. “He’s become a really good friend. Someone who’s special to me. I don’t see that changing.”
