Wrapped in Love
Page 13
“So, Sara’s back. What an awful surprise,” she murmurs, leading the way to the family room.
My mind’s been a mess since I left the tasting room: Sara, Molly, where I’ve been, and what I want, respectively. Every time I think about Sara showing up like that, I’m more embarrassed than anything. I loved her. Planned to marry her. Until she erased herself from my life without any warning.
Shay plops into a recliner. A glass of wine is already sitting on the end table by her chair. While I was taking the long way home to clear my head, my sister must have been here planning her ambush. “Are you going to call her?”
“I don’t know. She said she wants to explain.”
“Explain why she’s a heinous bitch?” Shay asks, and I shoot her a look. “I’m not sorry for how I feel about her. You deserved better than what she did.”
“Maybe what she did wasn’t about me. Maybe there are reasons we don’t know.”
Shay glowers. “She’d have to have one hell of a story for me to bite on that.”
“I’d finally accepted that I’d ever see her again,” I admit.
Shay sighs. “I think what worries me the most is that you might be able to forgive her, and the rest of us won’t. I don’t want to see you in that position—feeling like you have to choose between her and your family.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Not that it matters, but I think everyone would deal with it if we did get back together—and trust me, I’m not saying that’s what’s happening here.” Honestly, in the months after Sara left, when I just wanted her back, whatever her explanation for leaving was, I worried about the same thing. What if I had an opportunity to make it work again, but my siblings and my mother could never forgive her? But the longer she was gone, the less of a concern that became.
“We might fake it for your sake, but things would never go back to the way they were.” Shay looks into her wine and swallows. “It would be hard to trust that she wouldn’t hurt you again.”
“I keep asking myself if I want to hear her explanation, but I’m not sure it even matters. I needed to know her whys ten years ago, and hearing what she has to say to me now isn’t going to change what not knowing did to me then.” Or how it changed me. “But maybe the explanation isn’t for me. Maybe it’s for her. Maybe this is something she needs to do.”
“You don’t owe her anything.”
I shrug. “I’m not sure that’s true.” I know Shay won’t ask about it anymore—at least not today. She knows me too well to push too hard.
The sound of the garage door opening interrupts the silence.
“That’s Molly,” I tell Shay.
She snorts. “God, perpetually single Brayden is suddenly going to have to choose between the two women he could never resist. Maybe they’ll fight over you.”
I scowl at her. “You’re hilarious. Despite that stunt you pulled earlier, that isn’t what’s happening here. And I don’t want you putting poison in Molly’s ear regarding Sara.”
“Why not? Are you worried I might say something that could ruin their potential friendship?”
“I know you’re angry with Sara, but let me figure this out by myself.”
Sighing, Shay drains her glass and stands. “Okay. Let me know if I can help.”
I huff a hollow laugh. “I’m not sure how you can.”
Her smile is gentle. “I’m a good listener.” She tears her gaze off me as the door to the garage clangs open down the hall. The house fills with the sound of little feet racing down the hardwood. “I think your fan club is here.”
“Rayden!” Noah calls, rushing into the family room. “Rayden, I’m home! Come see the snow fort I maked in the backyard!”
“The snow fort you made,” Molly corrects gently as she steps into the family room. She hands her son a blue-striped scarf and matching hat. “If you’re going out back, you need to wear these.”
“I’ll be right back, buddy,” I tell Noah. “I’m going to walk Shay out and grab my coat.”
“Okey-dokey,” Noah singsongs.
I follow Shay to the front, grabbing my spare jacket from the coat tree and shrugging it on as we step onto the porch.
“Why do I feel like you’re escorting me to my car to make sure I don’t stay and talk to Molly about Sara?”
I shrug. “So what if I am?”
She frowns at me. “I know you don’t want my opinion—”
“Then don’t give it.”
“But I’m one hundred percent Team Molly.”
“Is that so?” I walk around Shay’s car and open the door for her. “What happened to being worried that Molly is on her way to breaking my heart?”
She shrugs and climbs into her car. “That was before Sara came back to town.”
“Bye, Shay.” I close the door.
She points her finger at me and shouts loudly enough that I can hear her through the glass, “Team Molly!”
Molly
“Can I get you two another round?” the waitress asks Friday night.
I raise my pint glass—which is still two-thirds full—and shake my head. “This will be all for me tonight.” Last time I was at Jackson Brews with Jason, I was trashed and made bad decisions. Is that why he suggested we meet here? Was he hoping for a repeat of the night of the Christmas party? Or did he suggest the bar, hoping Brayden might see us together?
Jason frowns at his empty glass and then looks to me. “Do you mind if I have another?”
“Go for it.”
“I’ll have the Sunny Day IPA this time,” he tells the waitress.
“Good choice,” she says.
She heads to the bar to fill his order, and I pull out my phone to snap a shot of the chalkboard behind the bar and Jake at the taps filling a beer. Jackson Brews has a nice crowd lingering at the bar and filling half the tables tonight. I’ll post the pic later with the happeningatJacksonBrews hashtag. The hashtag campaign was Levi’s idea, and it’s worked beautifully to raise awareness about all our offerings.
Jason folds his arms on the table and leans forward. “You know, I wouldn’t judge you if you had a second beer.”
I shake my head. “I have a long day tomorrow. Anyway, I don’t like to have more than a drink or two at a time.”
“Except for at the Christmas party?”
I sip my beer. I can’t believe that was only six days ago. This week has been so damn long. “That was a bad day, and the tequila didn’t make it better.”
He smiles, and his hazel eyes scan my face. “Up until you started crying and I got a personal introduction to Brayden’s right hook, I thought we were having a nice time.”
“It was fine. I mean, you’re great, and we were having fun, but . . .” I’m rambling. I take a breath and try to explain. “Drunken hookups were my typical bad-day fix when I was in high school. Saturday was a regression of sorts.”
“Ouch,” he says, but his smile softens it.
“You aren’t the regression, just the way I acted.”
He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure it takes two.”
I smile. I appreciate that. Jason is . . . nice. He’s been polite all evening, asks all the right questions, says all the right things, and I think he’s sincerely interested in more than getting between my legs. But sober Molly isn’t sure what drunk Molly was thinking. Hell, I’m not even sure what Thursday-morning Molly was thinking by accepting this date. I don’t get any spark when I look at him, and my belly has been completely normal all night. There’s no sign of the butterflies Brayden inspires with little more than a smirk across the room.
“Since I got to learn about the girl you were, tell me a little about the woman you’ve become.” Jason reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine, rubbing gentle circles across my skin.
I fight the instinct to jerk away from his touch. “Well, for starters, now I prefer sober conversation with friends.”
He arches a brow. The silence stretches between us for a few awkward beats before he nods. “I’l
l take friends if that’s all you have to offer, Molly.”
“It’s just where I am right now.”
“Because of your son?”
I nod. Because of Noah and, if I’m honest, because I have feelings for Brayden that would make intimacy with anyone else feel dirty. I was fooling myself when I accepted this date. I thought I could talk myself out of my feelings for Brayden or maybe just distract myself enough to forget them. As if.
“I’m not sure what Brayden’s told you about me, but there’s more to me than my reputation.”
“You and me both,” I say softly. Except sometimes, I don’t believe it. The last time I was here with Jason, I believed I was no better than my old reputation and acted accordingly.
“You have an admirer.” Jason nods toward the bar, and I twist in my seat to see Brayden standing there, watching us. His gaze flicks down to the table, where Jason’s hand rests on mine. Once again, I have to resist the instinct to snatch my hand back. Brayden turns on his heel and disappears into the kitchen.
“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on between you two?” Jason asks.
I swallow and shake my head, gently pulling away my hand. “Nothing.”
“I don’t see ‘nothing’ when he looks at you.” He sighs. “And I don’t see ‘nothing’ when you look at him.”
I turn my attention back to my date and frown. “Is that why you wanted to meet me here? You wanted to make him jealous?” It’s not like it took any convincing to get me to meet him here. If anything, the idea put me at ease. Jackson Brews is home turf to me. I feel safe here and figured he knew that.
“I didn’t want to be the guy you were sneaking around with.” He shrugs. “I guess I thought if you’d meet me here then maybe you were truly interested. In retrospect, that was a bad call on my part. I’m pretty sure the only guy you’re interested in is Brayden Jackson.”
“We slept together once,” I admit, surprising myself. “I immediately knew it was a mistake, and there’s nothing between us now.” It feels like a lie. Maybe there’s been something between Brayden and me since that rainy night in the city when we raced through the downpour to his hotel.
“Is that why he told me to stay away from you?”
I blink at Jason, pulling my thoughts from my memories. “What?”
“You didn’t know? The day he came to my office to ‘apologize’”—he makes air quotes—“he insisted I stay away from you.” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug that might look casual if it weren’t for the irritation all over his face. “So whether or not you’re involved, he certainly seems to feel some claim to you.”
I push my beer away, anger flaring in my blood. “Will you excuse me?”
Brayden
I cannot believe she’s actually on a date with that sonofabitch. And I can’t believe he brought her here. Like he wants to rub it in my face.
“You okay, brother?” Jake asks. He’s working at the grill, making burgers and plating up meals.
I only came to Jackson Brews tonight because the house was empty. In truth, I was looking forward to a night at home with Noah and Molly, but they weren’t there. Instead, Molly had left a note saying not to wait up. And now I know why.
“I’m fine,” I growl, not sounding even a little fine.
Jake, wisely, doesn’t call me on that, just nods and plates up his specialty bacon-barbecue donut burgers. If I had to guess, he already saw Molly here with Jason and knows exactly what’s wrong.
Molly bursts through the swinging kitchen door, her eyes blazing, her cheeks bright. She stops in front of me and puts her hands on her hips. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem? I don’t have a problem. If you want to date a guy who’s going to try to take advantage of you when you’re trashed, that’s on you.”
Jake clears his throat, and Molly spins on him. “Do you have something you want to say?”
He picks up the plates and shakes his head. “Not a thing,” he mutters before pushing out of the kitchen and leaving Molly and me alone.
“You’re such a freaking hypocrite.”
I fold my arms. “How do you figure?”
“You were all pissed at me for acting like I was your girlfriend to get your ex away from you, but you told Jason to stay away from me.”
Busted. I should be fucking ashamed for acting like that, but I’m not. If she doesn’t want me, fine. But Jason isn’t good for her. “I’m just trying to protect you.”
“You had no right. None. It’s my choice who I date.”
“I know that.”
“I told you he didn’t force himself on me. I told you.” She paces the length of the kitchen, only turning back to me when she reaches the walk-in coolers. She leans against the stainless steel and threads her hands into her blond hair.
“Why are you really so pissed, Molly? Is this about him?” I ask, stalking toward her. She’s in a long-sleeve sweater-material thing that dips low in the front and shows off the swell of her breasts. The hem barely reaches the middle of her thighs. The sight of her in knee-high boots—the idea that she wore that sexy getup for him—fuels my anger as I stop in front of her. “Do you want him so damn much that you can’t stand the idea that I might get in the way? Is he that perfect?”
She drops her hands to her sides. “No, you idiot. It’s about you.” She swallows. “It’s about you thinking you need to protect me.”
I dip my head, bringing my mouth closer to hers. She gasps, but I stop when our lips are inches apart. “You know what you didn’t hear that day I was talking to Ethan? When I told him that I sometimes wish I never hired you? Do you know why I said that?”
“Because you want to protect me from my past,” she says, and I’m so close that her breath brushes across my lips. “You feel guilty that you brought me back here.”
“That’s only part of it.”
“Oh?” Her voice shakes, like she’s afraid of the worst, and I wonder, truly wonder, how she could not know the truth.
I tilt my head and graze my nose along the side of her neck. She arches, pressing her breasts into me. “I wish I hadn’t hired you because I’ve wanted you from the moment you crawled into my bed eight years ago. I wish I hadn’t hired you because if I weren’t your boss, you wouldn’t have run from me in the middle of the night. And if you had, I could have tried to win you back when you pushed me away.” I run my mouth along her neck, a breath away from touching.
Her hand goes to my chest, and when I think she might push me away, her fingers curl into my shirt. “Then . . . why?”
“You made the rules. As long as I’m your boss, I’m not allowed to touch you. I’m not allowed to seduce you.”
“Brayden . . .”
I pull back, finally meeting her wide blue eyes, praying it’s enough, praying she understands. “That’s why I wish I never hired you. Because I’m a selfish asshole when it comes to you, and I want to do all the things you told me I can’t.” I’ve crossed too many lines already, but I rub my thumb over her bottom lip, unable to resist one last touch before stepping out of her grasp. “Enjoy your date. I’ll see you at home.”
Molly
Brayden’s house is quiet when I get home, and I miss my kid. I want the comfort of our evening routine, the joy of his easy smiles. I talked to him earlier, and my mom’s bringing him home in the morning to spend a few hours with me before I have to head to work, but some primal part of me feels fractured when he’s away. And maybe I also wish he were home to give me something to focus on other than Brayden’s words tonight . . . something other than the ugly words I said to him.
Jason was gone when I returned to our booth, but when I checked my phone, I saw he’d sent me a text.
Jason: I don’t want to get between you and Jackson. If you ever figure out what you want, you know where to find me.
I hang my coat in the closet then look down the dark hall to Brayden’s room. His door is closed, but I see the sliver of light coming from under it.
<
br /> “I want to do all the things you told me I can’t.”
A shiver of pleasure races up my spine at the memory of his words and the feel of his mouth so close to my neck, my lips. I want him, and he wants me.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter if we gave in. Maybe our work responsibilities are disconnected enough that it wouldn’t make a difference.
But I know Brayden’s a family man, and I don’t believe for a second that he doesn’t eventually want a wife and kids. He’ll be an amazing husband and father to someone. Thinking about it makes me wish I were in a position to gamble on that someone being me, but I know better, and that’s a risk I promised myself I’d never take with anyone—at least not until Noah is grown and out of the house. Which leaves me here, climbing up the stairs in the dark to sleep alone.
Brayden
I slept like shit last night, and since tonight is Ethan’s bachelor party, I’m going to pay for it later. There was no avoiding it, though. I heard her come in, heard her climb the stairs, heard the water running in her bathroom as she got ready for bed. I waited, but she never came. I put myself out there, made it clear how I feel, and she never came.
If she doesn’t want me, I’m just going to have to deal with that. Even if I feel the way she looks at me. Even if I can’t believe this chemistry between us is one-sided.
At five, I give up on fighting for more sleep, make a pot of coffee, and return to bed with a mug of caffeine and a book. It takes a while, but eventually the thriller sucks me in enough to take my mind off the woman upstairs.
That’s why I barely even realize Molly’s in my bedroom until she’s crawling into my bed. She takes the book from my hand. “We need to talk.” She sits back on her heels and stares at me, waiting.
I push myself up and lean against the headboard. It’s almost eight. “How’d you sleep?”
She shakes her head. “Not great, but I wanted to talk to you before Noah gets home.” She scans my bare chest, my arms, lingering at the waistband of my flannel sleep pants. Her shorts are so tiny they could be panties, and her long-sleeve cotton shirt is so thin I can make out the outline of her nipples beneath it. Her hair’s twisted into a sloppy knot on top of her head, and a few stray locks have fallen around her face. She looks like she walked right out of my fantasies and into my bed.