Marrying Molly

by Linda Hope Lee

  He hopped on the elevator, exited at the sixteenth floor, and soon reached the door to Harwell, Inc. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. The receptionist had red hair, which reminded him of Molly, not that she’d entirely left his thoughts in the few minutes they’d been separated, anyway.

  The receptionist handed him over to an assistant, who ushered him into Harwell’s thickly carpeted office.

  Perry Harwell sat in a high-backed, black leather chair behind a mahogany desk. In his sixties, he had a thick thatch of white hair and a matching mustache. A younger man wearing black-framed eyeglasses perched on a straight chair nearby. Both men stood as Steve entered.

  Harwell rounded the desk, his hand outstretched. “Steve Roper, good to meet you.” His gaze landed on Steve’s bandaged arm. “Whoa, had an accident, did you?”

  Steve nodded. “I met up with a slippery rock on my friend’s ranch and took a dive into the river. The accident slowed me down a bit, but I’m still able to work.” He offered his left hand to Harwell and the two managed an awkward handshake.

  “Good, good. This is Kevin Yang.” Harwell waved at his associate. “He’s our tech guy, and I wanted him to take a look at your program, too.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Steve,” Kevin said as they shook hands.

  Steve made a quick assessment of Yang. Early thirties, an easy smile. But behind the glasses were a pair of shrewd eyes. He’d be the one who needed convincing.

  They crossed to a grouping of chairs around a rectangular table, where Steve set up his laptop. For the next half hour, he demonstrated the software he and Jerry had developed and honed to perfection. As he’d expected, Kevin Yang tested him at every turn. What happened if the accountant in charge made an erroneous entry? Wouldn’t that throw off the entire program? Steve patiently demonstrated his foolproof check-and-balance system.

  At last, both men ran out of questions. Harwell sat back and folded his hands across his stomach. After exchanging a glance with Yang, he turned to Steve. “Your program appears to be exactly what we want.”

  Yang nodded. “But we still have a couple more programs to check out.”

  “Of course.” Steve shut down his laptop. Yang’s caution neither disappointed nor surprised him. Comparison-shopping was to be expected. A program such as his included many facets, from training to transfer of data.

  “Give us a couple of weeks,” Harwell said. “You going to be around that long?”

  “Oh, I think so.” Steve pointed to his bandaged arm.

  Harwell nodded. “Good, good. We’ll be in touch. But, say, as long as you’re in the area, come to our company party this Friday night. We’re celebrating twenty-five years in the business.”

  Steve slipped his laptop into his briefcase. “Oh? Where is it?”

  “At The Commodore Hotel. Five-course dinner, dancing, the works.”

  “Sounds good.” Steve zipped up the case. Socializing with potential clients couldn’t hurt and might help his cause. Due to his injury, he had a lot of time to spare.

  Then he remembered he couldn’t drive.

  Before he could mention that, Harwell said, “Bring a guest, if you like.”

  Molly’s image popped into his mind. He mentally shook his head. Who was he kidding? She wouldn’t go with him. And, did he want her to, anyway?

  Still, he heard himself say, “I might know someone I could ask. Is the dress formal?”

  Harwell smoothed his mustache. “No need to rent a tux, but we do put on the dog a bit. Right, Kev?”

  “Right.” Yang’s dark eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

  Harwell rose, went to his desk, and picked up his phone. “Deb, give Mr. Roper one of our anniversary invitations on his way out, will you?”

  Ten minutes later, the invitation stuck in his jacket pocket, Steve exited the building and scanned the nearby vehicles. He expected to see Molly waiting, but his rental car was not among those lined up at the curb dispatching and taking on passengers. Nor was the car anywhere in sight up or down the street.

  A glance at his watch revealed he was a few minutes later than the agreed-upon time. He hoped Molly wasn’t stuck circling the block again. The traffic was even thicker than when they’d arrived. He glued his gaze to the street, so that he’d be ready to spring to the curb the moment she arrived.

  A sudden chill broke over him. What if something serious had delayed her? What if she’d had an accident? She said she was confident driving in city traffic, but was that true, or only bravado?

  ****

  Molly peered out the windshield at the upcoming street sign. Mesa Avenue. She passed that street on the way to Jorgens’ an hour earlier, but had she been at this corner or another one? Just then, the traffic light flipped to yellow, and the car in front of her stopped short. She slammed on the brakes and barely missed ramming the other car’s rear end.

  Relax. She puffed her cheeks and blew out a breath. Just relax.

  Yeah, right. Relaxing while behind the wheel in this densely populated town was impossible. Besides, she had to keep moving, even if in the wrong direction.

  With the help of the car’s GPS, she’d found the grocery store to deliver Sara’s samples. Mr. Gauge, the manager, wanted to discuss the bakery’s products, and Molly obliged with confidence. She gave an inward cheer when he promised to place a large order next month. With high spirits, she started on her return trip to pick up Steve.

  Despite instructions from the GPS, she’d been swept up in the tide of moving traffic, trapped into turning corners she shouldn’t be turning. She should call Steve and tell him she’d be late. Trouble was, they hadn’t exchanged cell phone numbers before parting.

  She could call Sara or Jackson for Steve’s number, but she didn’t want to bother either of them. Besides, she’d gotten herself into this mess, and she’d get herself out. If Steve were standing on the street corner waiting, he could wait a little longer.

  The light changed to green. Molly stepped on the gas—just as a car that had run a red light sped directly into her path.

  ****

  After half an hour of pacing the sidewalk, Steve’s nerves were ready to snap like twigs. Why didn’t Molly give him a call? They had exchanged cell phone numbers, hadn’t they?

  He pulled out his phone and checked his contact numbers. No Molly listed. His jaw tightened. So, there was no way for them to get in touch.

  Had something happened? An accident? He shouldn’t have let her drive him. He should have hired a professional driver and let Molly stay on her job at the ranch.

  A siren’s wail split the air. Cars edged to the curb, allowing a red-and-white aide car to speed by. Steve’s gut tightened. Oh, man, he hoped they weren’t on their way to an accident involving Molly.

  What if they were? What if she were injured and had to go to the hospital? Hours might elapse before he found out.

  The siren stopped. Craning his neck, he glimpsed the top of the aide car, lights flashing, a few blocks away. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Should he continue to wait here for Molly, or should he run to where the accident was and see if she were involved?

  He tapped his foot a few seconds, and then, securing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, started off in the direction of the accident.

  He’d gone almost two blocks when a car’s horn sounded behind him. He whirled to see a gray car similar to his rental. A redhead was behind the wheel. Molly. His knees wobbled with relief. She was okay. She hadn’t been an accident victim, after all.

  Blinker flickering, she pulled to the curb.

  He sprinted over, flung open the door, and jumped into the car. “Thank God, you’re—”

  “Why were you walking down the street? I thought you were going to wait where I dropped you off?”

  “I was, but—”

  “Lucky I saw you. I was headed around the block but had to slow down because of an accident.” She accelerated into traffic, and then, as a car cut in front of them, hit the brakes.r />
  He kept quiet while she maneuvered them back into the traffic’s flow. Her jaw was set, her brow a deep V. And all the time he’d been so worried about her. His feelings confused him. Of course, he would have been concerned, no matter who was to pick him up. But the thought of something happening to Molly had hit him deep in his gut…

  “You didn’t answer my question. Where were you headed?” Her fingers tapped the steering wheel. “Did I misunderstand where we were supposed to meet?”

  “No, you didn’t.” He bit off the words, forcing himself to remain calm, when he easily could have fired off a few sharp remarks of his own.

  “So?”

  “I was headed for the accident,” he said between his teeth.

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  “I was afraid you might have been involved. I was worried.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh? Was that all she had to say?

  They passed the accident, on the other side of the street, in which an SUV had rear-ended an older model sedan. The medics loaded a victim into their van, while two cops waved their arms to keep traffic moving.

  A few minutes later, he and Molly reached the freeway entrance and headed up the ramp. The open road lay ahead. He sat back, prepared to relax, at last, when his stomach gave a hunger growl. He could probably last until they reached the ranch, even though that would be another hour. Given Molly’s sour mood, he didn’t want to suggest stopping.

  Molly broke the silence. “Were you waiting long?”

  “About a half hour.”

  “Oh.”

  Another “oh,” but at least they were talking again. He was about to say something more.

  But she blurted, “I got lost trying to find my way back to pick you up. Not lost, really, but I couldn’t always turn where I was supposed to.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot. You must have been frustrated.”

  “You bet I was.” She slapped the steering wheel. “And then a car running a red light nearly hit me.”

  Steve’s tension spiked at the thought of her actually being in an accident, as he’d at first feared. “That must have been scary.”

  She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m still shaky inside. Then, with the next turn I took, I saw the Hanes Building.”

  “And I wasn’t there on the sidewalk waiting, like we’d planned.”

  “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know which office you’d gone to.”

  Molly’s tone had softened. Steve shifted in his seat, resting his injured arm on one knee. “You know, this whole thing could have been avoided if we’d exchanged cell phone numbers.”

  “I know.” She heaved out a sigh. “And I’m sorry I yelled. Especially when you were worried about me. I wouldn’t have thought that was the reason you took off.”

  “Well, that was the reason.”

  She glanced his way and their gazes collided. Heat flowed between them, tightening his chest. Her flushed cheeks indicated she felt the heat, too.

  When she turned back to focus on her driving, he stared at her profile, mulling over a decision he needed to make. He cleared his throat. “How about getting something to eat? Don’t think I want to wait until we reach Red Rock.”

  With a grin, Molly nodded. “I’m hungry, too, so let’s stop. I know a place a few miles up the road.”

  Food wasn’t all that was on his mind, though. He had something he needed to ask her, before he lost his courage.

  Chapter Eleven

  An hour later, at the Pines Café, Molly put down her fork and sat back. She looked at her empty plate, not long ago filled with a hamburger and a generous serving of fries. “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,” she said, patting her stomach.

  Steve, who’d polished off a similar meal, touched his napkin to his lips. “Me, neither. But, boy, that was good. You picked a great place. I’ve never seen so many variations of the good ol’ hamburger on a menu before.”

  “Yep, that’s their specialty. Fits right in with the décor.” She gestured at the laminated tables and yellow vinyl upholstered chairs, straight out of the ‘fifties.

  They sipped their coffee awhile then Steve put down his mug and leaned forward. “Molly, I want to ask you something.”

  Molly sat straight. “Good heavens, you sound serious.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up in a half-smile. “I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to broach the subject. But here goes. As I was leaving Harwell’s, Perry Harwell invited me to their company’s twenty-fifth anniversary party this Friday, at The Commodore Hotel.” He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope, and laid it beside her plate. “Take a look.”

  Molly opened the envelope and removed a cream-toned card embossed around the edges with fancy curlicues. She read the message, and then looked up. “Sure, I know The Commodore. And you need a driver, right?”

  “More than that. Mr. Harwell said to bring someone, so…I thought of you.”

  Molly’s skin tingled. “You’re asking me on a date?”

  He laughed. “Not very smoothly, it appears. I’m out of practice. But, yes, I’d like to escort you to the party.”

  Molly ran her fingers over the card’s embossed edges while she formed her answer. Despite today’s frustration, she still wanted to be his driver while his arm healed. No matter how hard everyone tried to convince her otherwise, she was responsible for his injury.

  But being both his driver and his date? Uh uh. She’d decided when she met him to keep their association purely business. “I don’t have anything to wear to a fancy party, Steve. I’m more at home at a grange function.”

  “Attire is not formal. And these days, everybody pretty much dresses however they like.”

  “Yeah, well, I still wouldn’t wear anything in my closet to The Commodore.”

  Steve pushed his plate aside and leaned back. “Shall I take that as a ‘no’?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She slid the invitation into the envelope and handed it to him. “But I’ll drive you there and back.”

  He slipped the envelope into his pocket, and then gripped his injured arm. “Oh, yeah? And just where will you hang out while I’m at the party?”

  “I’ll find something to do.” She waved the air. “Maybe I’ll go to a movie.”

  “I’m not good with that.” He frowned. “We’d better forget the whole thing.”

  ****

  “I think you should go,” Sara said, emerging from the bakery office’s storage closet with a handful of empty cardboard boxes.

  Molly plucked a freshly printed invoice from the printer. She thought back to yesterday’s trip to Denver and the tension between her and Steve. “I don’t want to go.”

  Disappointment lumped in her stomach. While Sara cleaned the closet, Molly had told her about Steve’s invitation to attend the Harwell’s anniversary party. She expected Sara to see her side of the situation, but apparently not. Now, Molly wished she’d kept quiet.

  “An outing would be good for you.” Sara tossed the boxes into the waste paper basket and brushed her hands together. “A chance for some fun. You’ve been home-bound since you arrived.”

  Molly retrieved another invoice from the printer. “And been perfectly happy. I came back knowing what life here would be like, Sara. A quiet life is what I want.” She added the printed sheet to a stack on the desk.

  “That’s what you think you want.” Sara waggled a finger in the air.

  Molly sighed, remembering the heated glances she and Steve had exchanged upon occasion, as well as his tender worry when she was late picking him up in Denver. But no, she didn’t want to become personally involved, especially with a man who was here only temporarily.

  “Too late to change my mind,” she told Sara. “Besides, I don’t have anything to wear to that kind of party.”

  Sara’s eyes sparkled as she took a step forward. “Oh, but I do. I have a dark green dress that would go perfectly with your hair.”

  Trust Sara
, who had a closet full of clothes, to come up with an answer for Molly’s lack. She groped for a reply. “But you’re taller than I am.”

  Sara placed both hands on the edge of Molly’s desk and leaned forward. “We can make it work. And Jackson and I will take care of Karli.”

  “Sara…” Now not a single excuse remained.

  A knock sounded on the screen door. Sara turned, and Molly looked up. Steve stood outside on the steps peering in at them. Her cheeks blazed. How long had he been standing there? Had he overhead their conversation?

  “Hey, can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Sara crossed to the door and opened it for him. “You don’t have to ask.”

  Steve stepped over the threshold. He stopped and slid his gaze from Sara to Molly. “I get the feeling I’m interrupting something important.”

  “We’re going over some invoices.” Molly hastily shuffled the papers stacked on her desk, at the same time thinking how handsome he looked today in neatly pressed jeans and a crisp, light blue shirt. His rich, brown hair caught the sunlight shining through the window. Her pulse quickened.

  “Actually,” Sara said with a quick glance at Molly, “I was trying to talk Molly into accepting your invitation to the Harwell’s party.”

  Molly’s jaw dropped at Sara’s betrayal. “Sara!”

  “Are you having any luck?” Steve’s lips quirked into a smile.

  “I don’t know.” Sara tapped one foot on the floor and frowned at Molly.

  To keep from looking at Steve, Molly folded an invoice then shoved it into an envelope. “If I recall correctly, Steve, you said we’d better forget it.”

  He shrugged, adjusting the sling around his neck. “I’d be happy to change my mind.”

  “See?” Sara tilted her head. “There’s no reason you two shouldn’t go and enjoy yourselves.”

  Molly gritted her teeth and stuffed another envelope. The two stared, as though waiting for her to say something. Waiting for her to say “yes.” The silence thickened the air. Outside, a bird twittered. In the bakery, the mixers hummed, preparing another batch of dough for one of Sara’s recipes.

  While she filled envelopes, Molly considered her options. She could continue to protest, but she doubted it would do any good. She was stubborn, but so was Sara. And Steve, after all, was the Phillips’ guest. Of course, Sara wanted to make sure his stay was the best it could be.