Molly's Mr. Wrong

by Jeannie Watt

  Molly leaned closer to him “You’re a jerk,” she whispered pleasantly.

  “I try.”

  It was then that he noticed that Denny really was watching them closely while pretending to pack his stuff. He worked up a frown. “Okay. I’ll look up subordinate clauses when I get home, but I don’t think I ever learned about those.”

  He looked over at Denny as he spoke just a little too loudly. Molly rolled her eyes.

  “Do that. I promise they exist.”

  He knew they existed because he’d learned about them the week before. He shouldered his backpack and headed for the door, then waited for Molly outside the main entrance.

  “Six-thirty?” he said when she pushed through the glass doors.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “What’s the deal with jerk face?”

  “Denny?” Her eyes cut sideways toward the hallway, when it remained clear, she said, “I think he gave me a really bad review. I don’t want to give him any more ammo.”

  “He what?” Finn was surprised at the surge of protectiveness that welled up inside him.

  “No big deal, Finn. I want to keep it that way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She actually laughed a little. “Positive. I’ll see you at McElroy’s. Six-thirty.”

  He gave her a nod, glad that she’d agreed, and headed for his truck while she jiggled her keys and waited for Denny and Mr. Reed to finish their slow journey out of the classroom.

  If teaching meant patiently dealing with the Dennys of the world, then there really was a good chance that it wasn’t the profession for him.

  * * *

  FINN WAS WAITING near the entrance of McElroy’s when Molly pulled her car into the lot and parked a few spaces away from his truck. She’d stopped wasting time worrying about where she should be edging ever closer to the slippery slope that was Finn—whether she was really in control of the situation. She was doing it. She was going to have some fun. Instinct was pushing her forward and she simply had to stop letting knee-jerk fears keep her from living her life. Finn wasn’t looking for anything heavy and deep, and since she wasn’t, either, this made sense.

  Finn met her halfway across the parking lot and, as he closed the distance between them, he smiled that crooked smile, which made her stomach tumble a little. “Glad you could come. Dylan and Jolie are looking forward to meeting you.”

  And she was nervous about meeting them. This seemed a lot like a real date.

  A thought struck her. “They know we’re just friends, right?”

  Finn opened the door and Molly walked inside. “They know you’re here with me. They have no more information than that...but they’ll be curious.”

  “Then let’s put an official title on our relationship. We’re friends.”

  He frowned at her. “How close of friends?”

  “Not screw buddies. And if you get laid after you drop me off, I have no right to complain.”

  He took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I don’t see myself getting laid after dropping you off. If I was dropping you off. You drove. Remember?”

  “By the way, Jolie ordered beer. Are you okay with that or do you want to order something else at the bar?”

  “I like beer.”

  “Good to know.” Finn kept hold of her hand as he led her through the fairly crowded bar toward the table where Dylan and Jolie sat and Molly told herself it was because he didn’t want to lose her in the crowd. Dylan stood as they approached, looking very much as Molly remembered him—tall, dark-haired, handsome. He extended his hand as Jolie got to her feet and offered a quick hug of greeting.

  “Hi, I’m Jolie. I don’t know if you remember me.”

  “Of course I remember you.” Molly spoke easily, drawing on her teacher self to overcome her suddenly shy self. Jolie had been one of the movers and shakers during high school—confident and bubbly and fun. A cheerleader, while Molly had been a geek. “I was kinda invisible.”

  “You were one of the brainiacs.”

  “Uh...thank you?”

  Jolie laughed. “It’s a compliment.” She glanced over at Dylan. “I have a thing for brainiacs.”

  Dylan smiled in a way that reminded Molly of both Finn and Mike. “Good to see you again, Molly. Table C, right?”

  Molly laughed. “I’d forgotten, but yes.”

  Table C had been her favorite table in the library, where she’d spent most of her free time hiding out and studying.

  “Uh... Table B?”

  Dylan shook his head. “I haunted Table D. Close to the biology reference section.”

  “Yes. I remember now.” Dylan had kept his nose buried in books almost as much as she had and she remembered how she’d always thought he seemed like a nice guy. Handsome, like his cousin, but lacking the devil-may-care aura that had so entranced her.

  “You know,” Jolie said with mock seriousness, “I kind of feel like a loser because I never had a table.”

  “You kind of had to study to have a table,” Dylan pointed out as he slipped a hand around the back of Jolie’s chair.

  “Studying...” Jolie made a dismissive gesture. “I did okay with gut instincts and a little luck. Is beer all right, Molly? We ordered a couple of pitchers.”

  “Beer is great. Thank you.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when two pitchers clunked down on the table. Finn did the honors, pouring perfect, almost foamless glasses for everyone.

  “Haven’t lost your touch, I see.” Dylan raised his glass in a mini salute.

  “Some people study. Some people pour beer,” Finn replied. “I didn’t have a table either, because I was busy learning other skills.”

  Molly raised her glass. “Here’s to other skills.”

  Jolie smiled and drank, then leaned against Dylan’s arm, which rested along the back of her chair. The two radiated contentment, which was so odd after their epic high school feud. If Mike had succeeded in bringing the two of them together, as he’d intimated to Georgina, then he truly had skills in the matchmaking department. What would it be like to be so content?

  Molly took a healthy drink. Actually, she had been that content at one time, but it had all been an illusion.

  No more illusions for her. She went into things with her eyes wide open, not expecting more than she could be absolutely sure of.

  “How long have you guys been seeing each other?” Jolie asked.

  “We’re a casual couple,” Finn said solemnly. Molly almost choked before he added, “Which means we’re friends.”

  “Testing the waters, so to speak?” Jolie asked. It was not an intrusive question.

  “No, we’re just friends,” Molly said. The kind that held hands and made each other’s hearts beat just a little faster. She’d felt Finn’s heart rate ramp up when they’d kissed. “Better make sure Mike understands that,” Dylan said.

  “At least if he were matchmaking, it would give him something other than Ms. Fitch to think about,” Jolie said softly. Molly’s eyes went wide at the mention of matchmaking, but the conversation immediately moved on to other Culver family matters—how to be there for Mike while he dealt with Elaine’s illness without being so obvious about it that he grew impatient with them; Jolie going back to work managing the store and how that would affect Lola; Dylan’s and Jolie’s roles in rebuilding the Lightning Creek Ranch after the fire. Molly sipped her beer and listened until Finn said that they hadn’t come to discuss family matters. They’d come to enjoy themselves before family matters took over their lives.

  “Hey, sorry for being boring,” Dylan said. “Finn didn’t ask you out to listen to us bitch, plot and plan.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said honestly. It was nice seeing a family that was concerned about one another. And the beer w
as somehow acting as a filter, making everything clearer. Better.

  She wasn’t drunk. Maybe slightly buzzed. Whatever her condition, it was pleasant to be out. Even more pleasant to put her hand in Finn’s without hesitation when the music started and Dylan and Jolie automatically headed for the dance floor.

  “How do friends dance?” Finn asked as he settled his hands on her waist, keeping a good six inches of air between them.

  Molly made a face at him. “Let’s go with the usual way. You know...actually touching? So we don’t look dumb?”

  He pulled her closer, the length of their bodies now lightly pressed together. “Like this?”

  “Uh...yes. This works.” At the very least, it felt good. Maybe too good as her legs pressed up against his muscular thighs and her breasts came up against his solid chest. “I’m glad we agreed to be friends.” The beer might have loosened her tongue a bit, but it was the truth.

  “Why wouldn’t we be friends?” he asked, his voice rumbling seductively close to her ear.

  “Uh...all the stuff that’s gone down between us?”

  He leaned back to look into her face. “I guess there has been some...stuff.” He pulled her against him again, resting his cheek lightly on top of her head, and she felt him smile against her hair. “I like you anyway. And you kiss well.”

  “Gee. Thanks.” The words came out drily and hopefully kept him from realizing that heat was now flooding her midsection. It was more than remembering the kiss; it was him. Having him hold her close, his hand moving over her back in a distinctly possessive way, making her want...more.

  Was he doing this on purpose?

  She tilted her head back to look up into his surprisingly dark eyes. “Are you doing this on purpose?

  “Doing what?” he asked in a way that told her that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Trying to get me all hot and bothered.”

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  “Won’t work,” she said against his chest.

  “Maybe.”

  “We’re friends,” she murmured against his chest as the music ended. And she was here to have fun. Hot and bothered could work into that.

  Molly danced four—or was it five?—dances with Finn before the band took a break and they settled back at the table. Not long after that, Finn told Dylan and Jolie that he had to open the store and that Molly had an eight o’clock class.

  “Fine,” Dylan said, slipping an arm around his fiancée. “Be responsible. We’ll close the place down without you.”

  “I didn’t realize they closed at eleven-thirty,” Finn remarked straight-faced.

  He and Molly left the bar the way they’d come in—hand in hand—only this time it had a different feel to it. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the dancing, but Molly felt freer than she’d felt in years. She squeezed Finn’s fingers as they crossed the parking lot to where she was parked but didn’t look at him when he shot her a glance.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Finn asked as she pulled out her keys.

  “I had a beer and a half over a long period of time.” She leaned back against her car instead of opening the door. The air was crisp, so she folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Well, I did have a table in the library.”

  “While I developed other skills.”

  Molly smiled at him, liked the way his eyes crinkled sexily at the corners as he smiled back. “I enjoyed being out with Dylan and Jolie.”

  “And me.”

  “And you.”

  “We can do it again.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced down at the pavement with a slight frown, her gaze coming up again as Finn reached out to touch her chin.

  “No pressure, Molly.”

  She smiled tightly, then made an effort to make it feel more real. “I’ve worked hard to get control of my life. To overcome shyness and make a career and get...secure... I guess. I like being your friend, Finn.” Even though she hadn’t thought of him as a real friend until tonight. She’d thought of him more as a crazy-sexy distraction.

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

  “No ‘but.’” Molly pushed her hands through her hair, smoothing it back away from her face. “I had that...guy problem...not that long ago, and as I said, I’m still dealing with it.”

  “You made strides forward tonight.”

  “That I did.” She bit her lip and then smiled up at him. “Thanks to you. But I have to be honest... In ways I’m still dealing with all that.”

  Finn reached out to touch the edge of her face. “I hate to think of you hurting.”

  The touch, the stroke of his fingers down her cheek, about did her in. Her voice was husky as she asked, “So you understand?”

  “That you’re cautious? Yes. I’m not sure what to do about it, but I understand.” He stepped back then, putting his hands in his pockets, giving her space.

  Suddenly she didn’t want space. She wanted human contact. “Will you kiss me?”

  “Like a friend?” His voice was low, the question legit.

  “I don’t...know.” And that killed her because she was supposed to be in control of her life. “What else you got?”

  He reached out to take her face between his palms, gently drawing her near. Molly stepped forward as their lips met in a slow, deep, soul-searing kiss. Not casual.

  He raised his head, his lips gently pulling away from hers. “Better?” he asked, somehow understanding what it was she had asked for. Had understood that it was more than a kiss.

  She briefly rested her head against his chest before looking up at him and saying, “Yes. Better.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MOLLY WOKE UP with a start, stretched out her hand and realized the bed was empty. She sat up, clutching the sheets to her for a moment, then collapsed back into the pillows, wishing her bed was not empty. She rolled over, dragging the sheet with her. The clock read 4:30. Too early to get up—especially since she’d gone to bed around 1:00 a.m.

  She shouldn’t have kissed Finn.

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe not, but she’d needed to kiss him. To be kissed. To feel somewhat alive again. She’d walled herself off for protection after Blake, but the wall was cracking and she was afraid.

  Finn understood, though. He’d said that he knew she was wary. He knew she wanted to be friends, not lovers. She grimaced against the pillow. She shifted, still feeling the throb of sexual desire even though she couldn’t remember the dream that had woken her.

  It must have been a good one and it had to have involved Finn, because he’d been her first thought upon waking. She rolled over, resigned herself to staring at the dark wall until it was no longer dark, then fell sound asleep.

  Georgina was making tea, when Molly rushed into the kitchen at 7:30 a.m. By pulling her hair up into a knot while it was damp and pulling the first outfit her hand touched out of her closet, she would make it to her eight o’clock class with a few minutes to spare.

  “You’re still here? I thought you were gone.”

  “Overslept.”

  “Obviously.” Georgina popped up her toast and put it on a plate. “Here.”

  Molly took the plate. “Thanks. I have an eight o’clock, covering for Mr. Cortez again.”

  “I know.”

  She poured hot water from the kettle into her travel mug, popped in a tea bag, closed the lid, grabbed the toast and headed for the door.

  “You were out late last night,” Georgina called.

  “And paying for it now.”

  Molly arrived at Mr. Cortez’s classroom with almost two minutes to spare and after she caught her breath, class went well. The toast, which she’d eaten while driving, and the tea
had perked her up and she’d prepared everything she needed the day before. All she had to do was to skid into class and start the lesson.

  During her first class after lunch, she had to stifle the occasional yawn as the effects of the long night set in, but all in all it was a good day...right up until the dean stuck his head in her office just as her office hours were ending.

  “Do you have a few minutes to meet? Or would it be handier to set up an appointment for Monday?”

  “I have time now.” The last thing Molly wanted was to go the weekend wondering what the dean wanted to meet about.

  “Five minutes? My office?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  When Molly showed up at the dean’s office a few minutes later, his secretary, Penny, told her to go straight in. Molly knocked lightly on his door, opened it and then closed it behind her as he waved her to the seat on the opposite side of his desk.

  He set down his pen and lightly clasped his hands. “How are things going? In general, I mean. Any challenges or situations of note?”

  Molly folded her hands in her lap. Preliminary stuff before he got down to the business at hand. She’d searched her brain but couldn’t imagine what the business at hand might be, unless Denny had struck again. “Things are good. I am finding the workload challenging, but I’ve been able to stay on top of it.”

  The dean nodded, then said, “I had a talk with a concerned parent this morning.”

  “A parent?” That seemed...odd, since she taught at a college.

  “Mr. Simon. Jonas Simon’s father. As you know, Jonas is still in high school so...I guess that’s why we got the parent call.”

  “What’s the problem?” Molly asked, thinking it was better to know exactly what she was dealing with rather than to confess to something that might not even be an issue. Maybe the parent was on her side. It could happen.

  The dean frowned down at the floor as if looking for words. Never a good sign. When he looked up, he said, “Succinctly, you are grading harshly, you are rude to students and you’re apparently overly friendly with another of your students. To the point of making Jonas uncomfortable.”