Was it a warning of sorts, that once their little dalliance ended, she was going to have to deal with the prospect of him being in her life for the foreseeable future?If that was the case, why did she feel so reassured by the idea that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Danger! Danger! You are in serious jeopardy of getting carried away and convincing yourself there’s something real there all over again.
Still, as Brady went over to the griddle, placed a slice of cheddar on Anthony’s burger and gave the onions a stir, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from wondering how Brady’s house might turn out.
And what it might be like to live in it with him.
More people showed up, including Jordan and Cindy who had apparently spent the morning hiking. Though they made a pointed effort not to touch each other, judging by the sly smiles they exchanged and the faint red mark on Cindy’s neck, hiking wasn’t all they had done.
Like she should talk, when she was sporting her own love bite in a much less visible spot thanks to Brady’s amorous attentions the night before.
While Anthony tucked into his burger with a wary eye on Ellie, who eyed it covetously, Molly, Brady, and Adele all went to work preparing almond crusted trout with sautéed rainbow chard, maple glazed pork tenderloin with caramelized Brussels sprouts, and butternut squash ravioli while Damon’s parents, Janelle, Cindy, and Jordan set one of the big tables in the dining room and then settled in to watch football on the big screen above the bar.
They sat, Brady taking the seat next to her.
“It’s all so good, I don’t know how I can possibly choose,” Damon’s mother said as she forked in the last bite of her tenderloin.
“I think the trout wins, hands down,” Damon said.
“Ugh, too much garlic,” Ellie said as she pulled a face. “But that’s probably the pregnancy talking, so my vote shouldn’t count.”
“What do you think, Molly?” Brady asked.
Luckily she’d tasted everything in the kitchen extensively before they’d served. She hadn’t been able to focus much on the food with Brady’s hand trying to sneak its way up her corduroy skirt throughout the entire meal.
She did her best to hide a shiver as his fingers traced her kneecap through her tights, and reached under the table to still his hand. “I think we should go with the trout—sorry El. Not only is it my favorite taste wise, it’s probably the easiest for a home cook to replicate.”
“Well there you go. I was going to say the ravioli, but I think your point about the trout being easier makes a lot of sense—not everyone is up for making pasta from scratch.”
“Good thing you have me around to add a little real world perspective.” She grinned.
“Who knew we would end up making such a great team.” Brady grinned back.
Molly felt something flip in her stomach, at the look in his eyes. A look that told her he wasn’t just talking about teaming up in the kitchen.
Chapter 11
Molly woke the next morning, grateful that the restaurant was closed again today, giving her the opportunity to sleep in. Brady hadn’t gotten here until almost midnight last night. Jordan had borrowed his truck to take Cindy to a movie, so Brady had to wait until his nephew was home and settled in bed before he could come over.
He hadn’t left until after three, leaving Molly to collapse into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Not that she was complaining about him keeping her up until the wee hours, not when she had such fond memories of everything he’d done to her—and she’d done to him—in the few hours he’d been here.
“Get up on your knees,” he’d growled as he rolled her onto her stomach. “I want to be able to look at your ass when I fuck you.”
She’d eagerly tucked her knees under her and jutted her ass up at him, her sex already clenching in anticipation of that first, hard thrust.
Like it was clenching now as she stepped into the shower. She closed her eyes, slipped her own hand between her legs as she relived the way he’d taken her, pounding into her from behind while she’d fisted her hands in the sheets and moaned into her pillow.
Though her hand was a poor substitute, it took enough of the edge off she figured she could make it until the end of the day before she saw him again.
She dressed quickly for the meeting she had in the afternoon and went to the kitchen. As the coffee was brewing, her phone chimed, signaling an incoming text.
What are you wearing?
She grinned as she tapped in her reply to Brady.
I’m wearing a very sexy green cashmere sweater and an equally hot pair of navy cords.
His reply was instantaneous.
I prefer to think of you hanging around your house in nothing but a pair of stilettos.
Not sure I even own a pair. Guess I know what’s going on my Christmas list!
Done and done. What size?
No way. Knowing you, you’ll get me those acrylic stripper heels.
You mean those clear plastic—er, I mean, how would I know what a stripper wears?
See you tonight?
Count on it. I’ll try to get there earlier.
After finishing her coffee and a piece of toast, Molly sat down at her laptop and put together an online registration sheet so customers could sign up to eat at the restaurant on filming day. After much debate about whether or not they should invite certain people or populate the dining room itself, they had decided to open up reservations on a first come, first served basis using the online sign-up sheet.
She then blasted the link out to their customer database and posted it on the restaurant’s Facebook.
A review of Jack Thornton’s P&L for September took her to lunchtime, after which she went to a meeting with a new client, a real estate broker whose bookkeeper had just retired.
After that she went over to Ellie and Damon’s. Cindy, who regularly watched Anthony after school, had canceled at the last minute (Molly hoped Jordan wasn’t a factor), and Ellie had to go to a doctor’s appointment.
“Thank you so much,” Ellie said when Molly showed up. “Last time we took him the questions were…” she trailed off and shook her head.
Molly stifled a laugh. For some reason, Ellie and Damon had thought it would be a good idea to take Anthony to their first ultrasound, something about helping him feel more bonded to his sibling to be.
He had been enthralled, of course, Ellie reported, by the cloudy image on the screen, squinting hard as the technician pointed out the head, the arms.
“Is that the penis?” Anthony had piped up.
“That’s the umbilical cord,” the tech replied, keeping her face admirably straight.
Then the questions that Molly had seen coming a mile away as soon as Ellie told her they were taking Anthony with them started flying.
The answers to which led Anthony to walk up to Molly later that afternoon at the restaurant, and say, “Aunt Molly, I know how babies are made.”
Molly’s eyes widened and she cast an alarmed glance over his shoulder at Ellie, who gave her a pained smile. “Wow, that’s great,” Molly said, busying herself with the bar glasses, not really up to discussing the birds and the bees with her five-year-old nephew.
Anthony, however, was very eager to share his newfound knowledge. “Yeah! The mommy and the daddy each have a seed. The daddy plants his seed in the mommy’s bagina”—Molly pressed her lips tight so she wouldn’t laugh at the mispronunciation—“and then the seed goes into the mommy’s belly, where it meets the mommy seed, and then the baby grows.”
“Sounds about right to me,” she said.
“But only the mommies can grow the babies. If you try to plant the seed inside a daddy. It doesn’t work,” he said gravely.
“Nope, daddy's can't grow seeds,” Molly said, deadpan, while Ellie shot her a glare.
“I don’t mind at all,” Molly said now, and she wasn’t lying. She loved hanging out with her nephew—when else did she have an excuse to spend an hour on the couch watching Sponge Bob?
Besides, Anthony was a sweet kid, and funny too. Though sometimes she wasn’t totally tuned in with his sense of humor.
Take his greeting this afternoon as he came hurtling into the kitchen, sliding across the tile floor in his socks. “Hey, Aunt Molly, guess what?”
“What,” she said, turning from the cabinet where she was gathering the ingredients for PB&J’s for his snack.
He’d lost his first tooth a couple weeks ago, so there was a gap in the bottom row of his grin. He didn’t say anything, just stood there grinning.
“What?” she repeated, and before the syllable fully left her mouth the room echoed with a fart that sounded like it came from a three hundred pound man.
“Ack!” she made a disgusted face as the smell—which also seemed like it should have come from a much larger creature—hit her full force. “Oh my God, what are they feeding you?”
“Poop crackers,” Anthony said as he collapsed giggling to the floor.
“Whatever it is, it’s turning you into a human biohazard.”
She shook her head, laughing more because he was laughing than because she saw the appeal of a fart joke. Boys, she thought as she urged him up off the floor and over to the table.
It had just been her, her mother, and her sister for so long sometimes they seemed like an entirely different species. As she spread the peanut butter and raspberry jam over whole wheat bread, she mentally crossed her fingers that when the time came, she would have only girls. Boys were just beyond her understanding.
She set a sandwich and a glass of milk in front of Anthony. “Thank you, Aunt Molly,” he said, his voice so sweet and in contrast with his earlier potty humor.
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said and gave his head a little rub. “How was school?”
She poured herself a cup of coffee and listened as Anthony gave her the lowdown on what was going on in “kinnergarten.”
After that, they retired to the couch for some Sponge Bob. His sturdy weight settled against her and his little boy smell filled her nose, making something bubble up deep inside.
“Aunt Molly,” he said as she was fast forwarding through commercials, “Are you ever going to have a baby?”
“Someday,” she said. “I need to get married first.”
“You were supposed to get married, to Josh.”
“Yep.” Funny how even a few weeks ago, Anthony’s childishly frank observation would have sent a stabbing sensation through her chest. Now… “We were, but we changed our minds.”
“I heard you tell mom he was a scum sucking cheater. What does that mean?”
Molly closed her eyes, wondering when she would ever learn that no matter how distracted or tuned out Anthony appeared, she always had to watch what she said around him. “Josh decided he wanted to marry someone else more than he wanted to marry me. That hurt my feelings, so I called him a name.”
“Why didn’t he want to marry you?”
Even though the pain wasn’t nearly as raw as it had been, his question started chipping away at her guard, bringing up all the insecurities and humiliation at being so easily cast aside. “You know, sweetie, what happened really hurt my feelings, and if it’s okay I’d like to stop talking about it.”
“If I were a grown up, I would want to marry you Aunt Molly.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head and felt him snuggle even closer. A tight, yearning sensation blossomed in her chest. An image of herself cradling a baby—her baby—hit her so hard she lost her breath.
She’d always wanted kids, but in an abstract, that’s just the way things are supposed to go sort of way. In all the years she’d waited for Josh to get to the altar, her urgency never had anything to do with her biological clock.
Now she had a bad feeling it had just switched on, the desire to hold that imaginary baby so strong her arms ached.
And if that baby was a boy who had almost black hair and light eyes, she wasn’t admitting it to anyone.Not even herself.
Ellie and Damon came home after a couple of hours. Molly dutifully oohed and ahhed over the latest set of ultrasound pictures, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the loving looks Damon and Ellie exchanged as they marveled over the baby’s growth.
Would she ever have that? Her newly switched on clock ticked, as though signal time was running out. She shoved the maudlin thought aside. She wasn’t even thirty, and still had plenty of time to find someone.
Someone other than a sexy bad boy who scratched every itch she had and then some, but was as good a candidate for a husband and father as Josh had been.
No, she amended, thinking of the way Brady treated Jordan. He would be a great father. It was the husband thing he wouldn’t be able to pull off.
After a dinner of roast chicken and potatoes, Molly declined the offer to stay and watch a movie. Brady wouldn’t be at her place for at least another hour, but she needed time to decompress from all the marital and family bliss before he came over.
Time to banish the fantasies of the phantom baby from her head and focus on the here and the now and the reality of what was between her and Brady.
And all that was not.
After she got home she took a shower and rubbed gardenia scented lotion onto her arms and legs, her body already tightening at the thought of Brady catching the scent on her bare skin. Her phone chimed with an incoming text and she smiled when she saw it was from Brady.
Be there in 30.
That gave her enough time to reapply light coat of makeup—mascara so her eyelashes didn’t disappear, a dusting of powder, and lip gloss that wouldn’t last more than five minutes after he walked in the door.
Her cheeks were already flushed with anticipation, eliminating the need for blush. She checked the mirror and saw a version of a woman she’d never seen. With her flushed cheeks, glossy lips, and eyes already dilated with desire, she looked like what she was—a woman waiting for her lover.
She looked
sexy.
Desirable.
Though Brady had shown her in every imaginable way how desirable he found her, this was the first time she could really see it for herself. It felt good. It felt
powerful.
And for the first time in her life, she wondered if that whole marriage and kids thing was overrated. Maybe she should be one of those women who never tied herself down, who maintained her independence and took sexy, interesting men into her bed.