CHAPTER SIX
M
olly drew the football back, winged her arm forward, and released the ball. It wobbled through the air in a sloppy arc and dropped into Noah’s waiting hands.
“Mom. That was so ugly.”
“Hey, if you want spirals, you’re gonna have to stand closer.”
The warm sunny day had brought half of Smitten out to the lake. Boats dotted the water, families gathered for Sunday picnics under pavilions, and athletic types jogged nearby on the paved lake trail.
It wasn’t long ago Noah begged to come to the lake park to climb on the monkey bars and swing on the swings. Now it was football. And the picnic, of course. He still loved food as much as the next boy.
She was tired today. She’d been up until late rooting
under the stairwell. Abby was right, it was filled with junk, but Molly cleared it out to check the floorboards and the walls. All she’d turned up was a head full of cobwebs and an outfit full of dust.
In the middle of her reverie, she didn’t see the football until it was sailing through the air. She jogged backward to catch Noah’s overzealous throw. Her foot caught on something, and she went over backward. Her head clunked on the ground.
“Ouch.”
“Mom!”
She waved her hand in the air. “I’m fine!” She lay there a moment, closing her eyes, assessing. Pain in the head. Nowhere else. Just needed a minute. Wow, that did not feel good.
“You okay?”
She opened her eyes.
Gage leaned over her, silhouetted by the sun, his disheveled hair haloed. He’d seen her clumsy fall. Of course he had.
“I’m fine.”
He extended a hand and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. His hand was big and warm around hers. When he let go, she shoved down a pang of disappointment.
“You sure?” he asked.
Noah jogged up to them. “Sorry, Mom.”
Molly ruffled his brown hair. “Not your fault, buddy. This is my friend Gage.”
Friend?
“Gage, Noah.”
Gage shook his hand. “Nice spiral you got there.”
“Thanks. I throw better than my mom.”
Gage laughed. “Careful, big guy. She controls the food.”
Noah frowned as if trying to decode the comment, then turned to Molly. “We gonna eat soon? I’m starving.”
“Sure. You grab the ball, and I’ll get the lunch out.”
She watched Noah jog away as an awkward pause ensued. She turned back to Gage. He wore a white T-shirt and black basketball shorts. He was breathing hard—must’ve been jogging around the trail—and staring back at her.
Say something, Molly
. “Uh, you’re welcome to join us . . .”
What are you doing?
“Lia was supposed to come, but something came up, so there’s plenty. I mean, you know, if you need to eat.”
Need to eat?
Very gracious. How could he refuse such an offer?
“I don’t want to intrude.”
She shrugged. “It’s just sandwiches. Bologna, at that. And these weird hot chips Noah likes. They’re actually kind of nasty.”
Gage’s lips twitched. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to rescind your offer?”
Busted. She opened her mouth, but her mind went blank. She bit her top lip.
“Actually, I do need to eat.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Where’s the food? I’ll help you unpack.”
What had she gotten herself into? “Over there.” She gestured toward the picnic table and saw Noah already seated there.
“Hurry up, Mom!”
Gage pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face. She dragged her eyes from his ripped stomach. Yeowza.
“You heard the kid,” Gage said.
They settled in and dug into the picnic. To his credit, Gage took down two bologna sandwiches and dived into the hot chips with as much gusto as Noah. He finished the two
water bottles he’d fished from the cooler and managed to make Noah laugh twice with stories only an eight-year-old would find funny.
Halfway through the meal, Molly spotted Heather and Paul walking around the lake. She waved, and they came over to visit for a minute, Heather throwing her a covert wink. Molly rolled her eyes. Her friend would never let her hear the end of this.
By the time they finished, Molly had managed to relax. Noah tossed his trash as she began putting the food away.
“Can I go swing?”
Maybe he hadn’t grown up so much after all. “Sure.”
Gage helped her repack what was left and sat across from her, arms folded on the plastic tablecloth. He watched Noah jog toward the only open swing. “Seems like a great kid.”
“I think so.”
“He looks like you.”
“You think?”
“You kidding me? Those big brown eyes? Spitting image.”
“Well, don’t tell him that. Boys don’t want to resemble their moms.” She was starting to get a headache. She ran her hand over the back of her head, feeling the lump.
“Sure you’re okay? You went down pretty hard.”
“Just a bump.” She fished through her purse. “I think I will take something for this headache, though.” After she downed the pills, she regarded him. “I’m surprised you’re not at work. Weekends are prime.”
“We’re closed Sundays. Day of rest and all that.”
She took another sip of water. She felt the same. Curtis had kept the business open on Sundays. She’d missed attending church with him that last year.
“How did your outings go yesterday?” Gage asked.
“Pretty good. Not a single unhappy camper since the white-water incident.”
“Good for you.” He stared in a way that made her stomach knot up, his eyes like warm blue lasers.
She squirmed. “What?”
His gaze drifted over her face. “Nothing. You’re just a very capable woman.”
She snorted.
“Don’t do that. You are. You’ve been through rough times, but you’re holding your own. You’re raising a great kid, running a successful business. You’re more than capable. Own it.”
Successful business? Ha. If he only knew. She was hanging on by a thread, on the verge of losing everything.
“What? What did I say?”
Was her every thought etched on her forehead? She folded her hands on the table, watched Noah pumping higher and higher. “Things aren’t always what they seem.” Noah leaned back, gliding. He liked to make himself as dizzy as possible.
“What do you mean?”
This was the moment. The one where she had to decide whether to trust him or not. She looked into his blue eyes and saw only warmth and openness. Maybe she was crazy but . . .
“The business . . . it isn’t going as well as you think.” Her heart thudded at the admission. It was a hard one to make to Mr. Successful. She should’ve gone on letting him view her as capable. Now he’d think she was a failure.
“Want to talk about it?”
She kinda just wanted to take it all back. Her gaze
bounced off him. Maybe he could help. Maybe some of his magic charm would rub off on her.
Molly sipped her water, turned her face into the sun, and let the rays warm her. She didn’t want to denigrate Curtis. He’d been a good husband despite his poor judgment. “Bottom line, I need more customers.” She gave him a wry grin. “This seems like a stupid thing to be telling my competitor.”
He leaned into the table, his broad shoulders stretching the cotton shirt. “Hey, we’re friends, right? I’m happy to listen if you want to bounce anything off me. There’s enough business for both of us.”
Lately she’d doubted that. Maybe she was fighting a losing battle. “Think so?”
“Absolutely. How can I help?”
What did she have to lose?
Molly asked him about her price structure. Curtis had priced their excursions higher than Gage did. Would lowering them attract more customers, or would it just eat into her profits? From there they moved on to overhead costs, then marketing. He was so knowledgeable. What she’d give to have all his experience downloaded into her brain. But this was the next best thing.
He shared freely, and she found herself more than once pulled into his gaze. He was passionate about what he did. About the outdoor aspects, yes, but also about the business end. His eyes lit as he talked.
She wished she felt so excited about the business. Maybe she would if hers were thriving like his. Or at least surviving.
“Mom, is it time for the movie?” Noah’s voice broke into their conversation.
She looked at her watch, surprised that over an hour had gone by. “Oh my goodness. Yeah, buddy, let’s get this stuff to the car.”
She stood, folding the tablecloth.
Gage grabbed the cooler. “I’ll get this.”
“Thanks.”
He walked them to the car. She wondered idly if he’d want to go with them, then waved the idea away. He wouldn’t want to see the latest Pixar film. Besides, she’d taken enough of his time.
Gage closed the trunk of her Corolla and turned to her, smiling. “Thanks for lunch. I’m glad I ran into you.”
“I should be thanking you for letting me pick your brain.”
He shrugged. “I love talking business. My door’s always open.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Mom, we’re gonna be late,” Noah called from inside the car.
“I’ll let you go.” He winked.
Those pterodactyls made another appearance. “See you. Thanks again.”
He gave a wave and a smile, turning toward the lake. She watched him a minute, noting the heavy thudding of her heart and the warmth in her cheeks. Maybe Heather wasn’t so far off base after all.
A young lady should embrace her courter’s pursuit. Such is the first step on the stairway to love and happiness.
P
EARL
C
HAMBERS
,
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
CHAPTER SEVEN
T
he next week Molly was on the phone, booking a rock climbing tour for a family of five, when Gage walked through the door. She tossed him a smile as she cradled the phone on her shoulder and wrote the appointment into the book.
“You’re all set for the fifteenth at ten a.m.” She thanked the customer and hung up. Her gaze wandered to Gage, who stood by the picture window.
“Nice display,” he said.
“That was all Lia and Heather. They did a nice job, huh? I don’t know where they found fake pine trees this time of year.”
“You have good friends.”
“I do. I’m very blessed. They’ve really been there for me, especially this past year.”
“I have a feeling they’re equally blessed by you.”
“I hope so.” She’d do anything for them. And as hard as it was to see everyone coupling up last year, she was happy for them. No one deserved happiness more than her peeps.
Gage walked to where she stood behind the counter and leaned an elbow on the rustic wood top. She breathed in the smell of his cologne, drawing comfort from the familiarity. His hair was pleasantly mussed, and his eyes sparkled under the showroom lights.
Be still, my heart
.
“Things are going okay businesswise?”
He’d stopped by the store the week before to brainstorm some marketing ideas. It was a scary leap of faith to spend money, but he’d had some good ideas that fit her miniscule budget.
“I’ve gotten two customers from the online coupon, and I’ve been asking customers for reviews like we talked about. I’ve gotten a couple good ones.”
“That’s great.” He gave her a high five.
“Unfortunately, my copy machine bit the dust yesterday.”
“Not good.”
She shrugged. “We got it secondhand. It was bound to happen eventually.”
“Well, you’re welcome to borrow mine. My shop’s just around the corner, two blocks, on the left. You might’ve seen it.” His eyes sparkled.
She was growing to like the warmth that flooded her when he teased. She suddenly realized how close he was, just a narrow counter between them. She breathed him in again. “I think I know the place.”
He quirked a brow. “I hear the owner’s really awesome.”
“You don’t say.”
He gave an exaggerated shrug. “That’s what I hear.”
“Humble too, I suppose.”
“Of course.” His lips twitched.
They were nice lips too. Perfectly shaped. Not too thin, not too thick. Just right for kissing.
Whoa, Molly
. She cleared her throat.
“So anyway . . .” He set a paperback on the counter, flipping it around so she could see the long business title, complete with subtitle. “This is the book I mentioned. Thought you might like to borrow it.”
Ugh. So thick. She could only imagine all the boring pages filled with terms she didn’t know and concepts she didn’t understand.
“What?” he asked.
She really had to get a better poker face. “I appreciate it. I do. But I’m so busy right now. In my spare time I’m supposed to be reading that old Pearl Chambers book, and I just—”
“Pearl Chambers . . . ? The local author from the turn of the century?”
“Right.”
“Why would you be reading her work? It must be so out-of-date.”
Her advice on getting and keeping a man wasn’t exactly world famous, but proud Smittenites knew of her. Out of date or not, Pearl’s advice had spun in her mind a time or two recently, but Gage didn’t need to know that.
Her face heated at the thought. “It’s the old treasure lore.” She waved the words away.
“You’re looking for the gold mine?”
“Silly, really. But my friends found this old book and are
convinced that there’s treasure waiting to be found. I promised to take a look. On top of that, my book club’s reading
The Help
this month—you know how thick that thing is?—and I’m way behind. I don’t know when I’d be able to get this back to you.”
“They made a movie of that, didn’t they?”
“Ha. They’ll kill me if I cheat.”
“SparkNotes?”
“Still cheating.”
He smiled, looking down at her like he—well, like he just might think she was adorable
. Is that even possible?
“So let me ask . . . if you’re not much of a reader—why a book club?”
“I like to read—sort of. When the genre’s right and the author’s good and the book’s not, you know, too thick or boring.”