by Carol Rose
Starting to yank on her jeans, she looked at Drake. “I’ll give you a reason to forgo the benefits part, smart ass. I’m in love with you. Okay? Is that reason enough?”
Molly jerked her pants closed, zipping and snapping them, acutely aware of his not having said anything to her declaration.
“Molly—“ He stopped, seeming not to know what to say.
“Never mind.” She scooped up her bra, cramming it into her purse. “Never mind, okay? You’re okay with the blog thing now and you’re up for the award and all. I don’t think we have anything else to say to one another.”
* * *
Molly sat on her couch alone. It had only been several hours since she walked out of Drake’s life, but she couldn’t seem to do anything. She should be calling the caterers and firming up the arrangements for the picnic. She just kept sitting on her couch as light faded out of the sky beyond her window, staring at the dark, silent television.
After those drunken college mistakes, she’d had the urge to take long, hot showers. But this was nothing like that. She didn’t regret making sweet, sweet love to Drake. That’s what it had been for her, even if he was just screwing.
She couldn’t hate him, even though that would have been easier.
Turning her head against the back of the couch, her gaze fell on her desk. It was piled with stacks of Easter picnic paraphernalia. She knew she needed to immerse herself in work, but lethargy kept her anchored there.
She’d told him. Told him the very thing she’d known she shouldn’t say. Hell, she shouldn’t have kissed him back when he was trying to comfort her about that damned cartoon character debacle at the birthday party.
Everything she was afraid of, the reason she’d held back from telling him how she felt—it had all happened the way she feared. They’d made love fiercely and…now it was over.
The phone rang and she fished it out of her purse, her heart pounding until she saw it wasn’t Drake calling.
“Cheryl?” Molly wearily held the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Easter Picnic coordinator! How’s it going?” For a woman who’d been dealing with the scary possibility of breast cancer, her mentor sounded good.
“I’m good. How are you? Did you get the flowers I left at the hospital? They said you were having some sort of test when I came by.”
“They tested every possible aspect of my body. Being in the hospital is exhausting. I was never more relieved to be home.”
It was a relief to hear the humor in Cheryl’s voice again. “Have you gotten the results? Is this just a blip? A scary thing you can put behind you?”
“I haven’t gotten the results of the lumpectomy yet. Medical time seems to run much slower.”
“You sound good, though. Do you feel like you’re recovering? I know anesthesia can be hard on the body.” Pushing her own preoccupation aside, Molly focused on her friend. What was a broken heart compared to potential cancer?
“Yes. I don’t think my boob is ever going to look right again,” Cheryl said mournfully, but I’m feeling better every day. At least, if this was cancer, they caught it early.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “I’ve heard that having a positive attitude is important in these kind of situations. Although I have no idea how anyone could do that—be positive, I mean.”
“Lots of prayer,” her friend replied with a touch of humor. “That and the hope that you won’t be faced with the worst-case scenario.”
“I plan to come by the house when you’ve had the chance to recover some. When are you supposed to hear something definite about the lab work?”
“Soon. In the next couple of days, I think. So, how is the picnic coming?”
Throwing her head back against the couch, Molly began talking of her bunny challenge. At least, when she was talking about all this with Cheryl, her mind didn’t keep circling—as much—around Drake.
* * *
“Molly, calm down!” Her friend motioned with palms down, like she needed dog-signals. Maybe she did, what with the near hyperventilation thing she was doing.
“I think I’m losing my mind. I’ve tried to stop thinking about this, but I can’t.” Molly sat down at Abby’s kitchen table the next morning.
Standing at the granite-topped bar, her friend hung up the dish towel in her hand and came to sit also. “So you’ve been having sex with Drake. We talked about this. Not the end of the world. Breathe.”
“That’s not the problem—I mean, yes, it’s part of the problem, but that’s not the worst of it!” She got up from the table and began pacing back and forth. “I’ve been telling myself that it’s not the craziest thing I could have done, but then I went and did an even crazier thing!”
She paced back to the glass slider at the back of the room. “Oh, geez. I’m losing my mind over this!”
“I can see that,” Abby responded. “Come sit down again and tell me what’s been going on—I mean besides you having sex with a totally hot guy who you’ve had a thing for. I’ll admit I’m jealous…, but that can wait.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“When did all this start exactly? The sex part, I mean. When you came by the school the other day, you said you had had sex, but I didn’t get the time frame exactly.”
“It’s been…happening, at least the lead up…for a couple of weeks.” She sat back down at the table.
“I think we should talk details here. You know I’m having a dry spell.”
“Excuse me.” She glared at her friend. “Excuse me if it didn’t occur to me to trot my emotional crisis out for your entertainment.”
“That’s okay,” Abby said as if she didn’t hear the sarcasm. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Giving an indignant laugh-snort, Molly resisted the urge to get up and pace again. “I’ve just been…confused about this. Like I told you, he kissed me and then—“
“Just like that, he kissed you? Out of the blue? You must have thought your prayers were answered.” Propping her elbows on the table, Abby looked at her with avidity. “Really? There was no warning? You couldn’t really go into detail with the kids around the other day.”
Closing her own eyes in exasperation, Molly said, “I was upset about that crazy cartoon character guy showing up sloshed to the kid’s birthday party—I told you about that—anyway, Drake was comforting me. Rubbing my back and telling me it would be okay….”
She stopped for a moment, remembering how sweet he’d been. With her all upset about that superhero idiot, she probably sounded as crazy as she felt now. No, Molly decided miserably, now felt a whole lot crazier.
“He was comforting you and then you guys kissed.” Abby nodded as if that were to be expected. “Okay. You’ve had the hots for him for a while now.”
“He’s my best friend!” Molly wailed. “I’m not supposed to kiss my best friend. No matter how I secretly feel about him. Not like that anyway.”
“There were tongues and everything.” Her friend sat back with a satisfied expression. “Did you get it on then? Where were you this time? In the car?”
Shaking her head in exasperation, Molly asked, “No, we weren’t in a car. Why aren’t you surprised about this? I mean, when I stopped by and you were outside, gardening with the kids, you didn’t seem surprised when I told you we had sex. Not really.”
“Because it was bound to happen.” Abby grinned. “You and Drake have been a partnership for so long and you’re both gorgeous, not involved with anyone else and not gay. I’m just saying.”
“Guys and girls can be just friends,” protested Molly. “We were just friends—no benefits—for a long time.”
“True, but you have a romantic history and you’ve neither one really gotten interested in anybody else for quite a while. Besides, you’re in love with him. The chemistry is still there.”
Molly dejectedly propped her chin in her hands, her elbows resting on the table. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Abby nodded, as if she’d known this
a long time. “So what did you do that’s so bad? I knew you were sleeping with him. You said having sex with Drake wasn’t the worst thing.”
“It wasn’t.” Twining her fingers together nervously, she said finally, “But this last time was…amazing and…and I-I told him I loved him.”
“OMG! You did not. Really? Wow.” Abby finally seemed like she got the magnitude of the situation. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Not really. He said something about us being friends with benefits…. Then I got all flustered and said that wasn’t enough for me, that I loved him.”
“Wow. You actually told him that you loved him? After all this time?” Her friend stared at her, a somber expression on her pixie face.
“Yeah, I know.” Molly still couldn’t believe she’d dropped the ‘L’ word. Of all the stupid things to have said. “That was two days ago and he hasn’t called or anything. I’ve been going crazy.”
“I can see why,” Abby commiserated saying again slowly, “I can see why.”
* * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
That afternoon, Drake chose a wrench—he thought—from the tool box that he and Molly bought, trying not to think of her.
He stared at the dripping kitchen faucet, the tool in his hands, and remembered again her panting out his name in ecstasy. Remembered her declaring that she loved him.
That she wanted more than just a tumble when she had the urge for sex.
He’d felt like she hit him between the eyes with a sledge hammer. Like he was fifteen again.
Everything seemed to have shifted since they had sex. That afternoon in his apartment had been incredible.
Sitting there on the kitchen floor, he had to admit to himself that it had been so good between them, he’d been scared out of his mind. Losing casual sex with a casual girl, that was no big deal, but this? Hell, he didn’t even know what to say to her.
He’d felt frozen and off-kilter. Loving Molly hadn’t led to anything good before. How did he know it would now? She’d become the most important person in his life. He feared taking a step in any direction. Drake didn’t want to lose her.
And then she walked out. Just like that. Walked out like he’d feared she would. They’d talked of going to the Bloggie ceremony together, but they hadn’t talked since the relationship conversation and he had no idea where they were. Hell, they’d never even talked about this, not really. Not about how this changed everything. And then when she’d said something and he hadn’t known exactly how to respond—fear did crazy things to a man—she walked out.
Somehow in his thoughts about things with her, it had seemed as if he didn’t actually commit to a romantic relationship, he was somehow protected from feeling awful if she left.
Stupid. He couldn’t imagine feeling any worse about being walked out on than when Molly went through that door.
Since she’d made her declaration about not just wanting sex, Drake had thought a hundred times about calling her. But a sick feeling inside his chest sprang up whenever he considered it. Like he’d already screwed things up beyond repair.
Drake blew out a disgusted breath and tried to focus on what he was doing. Looking again at the how-to-fix-a-leaking-faucet web page up on the laptop that sat on the kitchen counter within reading distance, he tried to banish all thought of Molly.
It was hard to do when she’d taught him all about this crap…and then blackmailed him about the column. Blackmailed him! He wasn’t sure he’d believed that Molly would have ever gone to Mike with the truth about having helped him with blog info, but the fact that she’d have threatened it still blew him away. If he hadn’t needed her to get him through the learning curve—the one he was facing at that moment—he’d have ended their friendship right then.
Maybe.
They’d been best friends a long time. Drake picked up the wrench and tried to read the web page again. He wasn’t sure if his kitchen faucet had a ball, ceramic disk or a cartridge, whatever the hell any of that meant. Trying to ignore the webpage ad for plumbers in his area, he focused again on the web page.
He’d thought about calling Aaron or even Levi to share his indignation after Molly walked out. Drawing in a long breath now, he acknowledged to himself that he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. His relationship with Molly seemed…private and personal. Too personal to even tell his best guy friends.
Turning again to the dripping faucet, Drake remembered his toilet repair experience with Molly. He scratched his chin, reflecting on how hot she’d looked when he’d sprayed her down with that damned tube. Nipples pebbled up against the chilly water, he’d had a hard time even then, recognizing that she was one hot number.
Not that she wanted anything else to do with him, at this point.
Drake forced himself to read the how-to page in front of him. Right. He needed to turn off the water. Bending to peer under the sink, he thought about his track record with relationships. He’d dated a few women seriously, but nothing had ever seemed to last.
Nothing but he and Molly…until they’d had sex.
Reaching under the sink, he turned the water off, as she’d taught him, and straightened to again study the web page. Hell, he was up for an award for just this sort of thing and here he was—liar—fumbling to fix his own faucet.
Looking again at the faucet type options on the web page, he tried to concentrate.
Hell, he’d been all gaga for her in high school and she’d broken his heart. Going there again didn’t seem smart, but he apparently didn’t have an option.
Okay, this was probably a compression-type faucet. He again studied the plumbing atop the sink before leaning forward to stick a screw driver under the cap. The directions were to pop it off to uncover a screw. Trying to ignore a flash of longing to have his friend laughing beside him as he tried to figure this out, Drake pried off the cap on the sink handle.
Success. At least, to that point.
Using the screwdriver, he acknowledged to himself that if it weren’t for Molly’s tutoring, he’d have never had a chance at fixing the damned drip. Of course, he still might have to call a professional, but he felt a grim determination to at least try to make the repair.
He’d kissed Molly that day and then again in the garden and his guy parts had seemed to take over. Like when he’d been an inexperienced, randy, clueless kid.
She’d rocked his world back then…and then walked away for some dumb jock. Drake hadn’t eaten for several days after that. And he’d been a kid. His recovery time had been better. Now, he didn’t know what the hell he’d do if he let himself love her and she left him.
At least, when they were just friends, he still had Molly in his life.
Hell, he was still all mixed up about his job. Still not sure he should keep doing this—and he’d gone and messed things up with Molly. Like he needed everything to fall on him at once.
Of course, he’d wanted to screw her. What guy wouldn’t want to have sex with a woman as beautiful as Molly? Particularly when she kissed him with all that heat and stuck her tongue down his throat as she was sticking her hands down his pants….
God. Drake put down the wrench.
He needed to call Preslee. Maybe some straightforward, nothing-but-sex sex would help put some of this straight. Clear his head.
Even though he hadn’t seen her for a while, Drake picked up his phone and decided he needed to make a booty call. If that was all Molly had been to him, maybe he needed to go back to his other outlet.
If he had a lot of sex with Preslee, he wouldn’t have these urges with Molly. Maybe that way, he could start thinking of her as his friend again.
Of course, she might not want to be his friend now.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to be his friend, even though he kept thinking about kissing her.
* * *
That evening, Drake sat at a table to the left of the bar hunched over his third--or was it fifth—drink. "I don't know what Molly wants from me. She made it prett
y clear back when we were kids that she’d moved on. She started dating other guys. We were good friends after that, though. I thought we had a good time."
He looked across the table at the blonde Preslee, all cute in her snug sweater. Having called her on impulse last night, he studied the woman now. Hot and perky at the same time, she had a healthy attitude about sex. If you liked the looks of the other person and agreed to share an hour giving one another pleasure, great.
Returning his gloomy gaze to his drink, he acknowledged that the situation with Molly wasn’t that simple. After being friends all these years, she’d said she loved him…, but she hadn’t said anything before. The last time they dated, she’d ended things. She hadn’t acted like she wanted anything different.
Okay. Yes. They’d had sex—really, really great sex—and he’d certainly been interested in that since they kissed…. Damn, that had been a great kiss. And pow, out of nowhere, all his attraction to her had come back.
He’d squelched his desire for her after she moved on and Molly had become a friend…his best friend. And now, he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening between them. Maybe they weren’t friends anymore.
Drake didn’t want that. Despite her having said she wouldn’t supply him anymore with projects for the blog—and her having blackmailed him into learning home improvement stuff he had no interest in—he didn’t want her out of his life.
That was the bitch of it. He couldn’t hate her. Didn’t even not like her—and he wanted to have sex with her again real soon.
Across the table from him, Preslee stirred her drink. "So you guys ended up getting it on and now everything's complicated?"
"Bingo." Drake felt the corners of his mouth turn down. "Screwed like bunnies."
He then gave a bitter laughed at the irony of the expression.
He probably shouldn’t even be talking about this with the woman sitting across from him, but the alcohol that was running through his body made him feel reckless and talkative. Hell, this was all he could think about anyway.