by Renee Ryan
He might very well be setting himself up for heartache—this one far worse than the first time around. Molly had agreed to marry not one, but two other gentlemen after Garrett had left town. But she hadn’t given them her heart.
She’d said as much.
Garrett had to believe she’d held a portion of herself back in her other relationships because her heart still belonged to him.
Was he daring enough to find out for certain?
The alternative would be to let Molly go again. To what end? Another man would attempt to garner her favor almost immediately. And this time, that other man might not care that she held a portion of herself back.
Worse still, her next suitor could actually succeed in securing her love.
Garrett wasn’t willing to take that chance.
He was older now. Wiser. Undeniably more patient. That gave him the edge. In a battle this important, he wasn’t above pressing his advantage. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance.
The carriage stopped just as the last detail of his plan glided into place.
“You’re sure you don’t mind waiting while I shop?”
Feeling especially generous, he gave her a light kiss on the nose. “Not at all.”
She waited until he escorted her inside the shop before turning to him again. “You won’t be bored?”
“Not even the slightest. Take all the time you need.”
She gave him a long, steady once-over.
He returned the gesture, with an even longer, steadier glance of his own.
“You’re up to something.”
He merely smiled.
How could he not? She was really quite beautiful with those narrowed eyes, pursed lips and accusatory tone. Garrett had always liked Molly best when she was riled, especially if he’d been the one doing the riling.
“Whatever it is you’re planning, you know I’ll figure it out eventually.”
His smile widened. “I’m counting on that.”
Making an inelegant sound in her throat, she spun around and proceeded to shop for ribbon.
Pulse pounding, breath coming fast, he watched her move through the store. She kept her chin high, her attitude firmly in place.
Whenever she deigned to look in his direction, he added a bit of charm to his smile. To an outsider, he probably looked like a sap.
We fall fast. We fall hard, and we fall for keeps.
So it would seem.
Molly took her time shopping, of course, checking every spool of ribbon in the store. Twice. Garrett knew she was moving especially slow in order to test his resolve.
She was brilliant at testing his resolve.
He excelled at hiding his reaction.
And so, they settled into a familiar battle of wills as if the years of animosity between them had never existed.
All things considered, Garrett thought it a rather pleasant way to spend a portion of his day. He settled in to strategize his next move.
A half hour later, his plan was complete and all but set in stone. No matter how long it took, no matter what tactics he had to use, Garrett would win Molly’s heart. And this time, he wasn’t giving it back.
Chapter Thirteen
Later that afternoon, Molly paced outside Mrs. Singletary’s private office, her mind a riot of thoughts and emotions. She was happy Garrett was working with the widow—truly she was—but, really, how long could they hole up in there and discuss business?
They’d been at it two hours already. Molly knew this because of the wretched chiming of her employer’s clocks. They went off every quarter hour, singing their happy, tinny tunes throughout the house.
Mrs. Singletary owned too many clocks.
Giving the door a hard glare, Molly continued her vigil in the poorly lit hallway. She strode along the corridor at a steady pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Back. And. Forth.
Her feet were starting to ache.
And she’d been pacing for only thirty minutes. She’d spent the first hour and a half of this incessant waiting more productively, by working on one of Mrs. Singletary’s new bonnets. The original design had been singularly uninventive. Molly had seen no other choice than to remove all the adornments and start from scratch. Not that she minded deconstructing the milliner’s handiwork. Molly liked nothing better than working with a clean slate.
Swinging her latest creation by the ribbons, she pivoted on her toes and took another pass in front of the door. Having been evicted from the room not long ago, Lady Macbeth looked up at Molly with slanted, broody eyes. “No sympathy here. I’ve been banished, too.”
The cat meowed.
Picking up the overweight bundle of fur, Molly hugged the cat close. “They’ll finish soon.”
She hoped.
After a kiss to the animal’s head, she set Lady Macbeth back on the floor and then pressed her ear to the door. She could hear nothing through the thick wooden barrier. Not even footsteps, which probably explained why she didn’t move quickly enough when the doorknob rattled.
One moment she was pressed up against the door, palms and cheek flat against the wood. The next she was tumbling forward.
Straight into Garrett’s arms.
“Oh.”
“Molly.” She could feel the rumble of a laugh moving through him as he steadied her in his strong arms. Then, with a wry smile on his lips, he set her away from him. “If you’d wanted to join us you simply had to ask.”
“I…” She fought for composure, fussing with her hair, her collar, then her sleeves. “I was just about to knock when you opened the door.”
He spared her a look that clearly said he knew exactly what she’d been doing in the hallway. “Ah, so it was a case of rotten timing.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Or perfect timing? You did end up in my arms.”
He was certainly taking this pretend courtship seriously.
“Molly?” Mrs. Singletary joined them on the threshold. “Did you need something, dear?”
“I…” Think. “You’ve been in there awhile. I thought you might like me to get you some…” Think, think, think. “Tea. Or coffee,” she added for Garrett’s benefit.
He’d never been a tea drinker.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” he said with the utmost politeness and a roughish twinkle in his gaze. “Walk me out?”
“What a splendid idea. Yes, dear, please escort our guest to the door.” Mrs. Singletary shooed them along, but then her gaze landed on the bonnet that had slipped from Molly’s fingers when she’d tumbled forward. “Oh, look, you’ve been busy.”
The widow plucked up the hat and studied the intricate design.
“It’s not complete,” Molly warned. “I have a few finishing touches still to make.”
“You can tell me about them once you see Mr. Mitchell out.” Eyes on the bonnet, the widow waved them along.
Hitting his cue perfectly, Garrett took Molly’s arm and steered her toward the stairs. The stingy light in the hallway played off the angles of his face, turning his features into a sculpted masterpiece not seen since the Renaissance period.
As if sensing her gaze on him, Garrett turned his head. He said nothing, simply stared. Yet something shifted between them, something both familiar and altogether new.
Her knees buckled and she lost her balance.
“Watch your step,” he said, warm and easy, his grip steadying her as efficiently as the warning. “The footing is uneven here.”
He’d uttered the exact same words outside the millinery shop yesterday afternoon. Had that only been yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet as if only seconds had passed.
They descended the stairs together. Garrett pulled her close and bent his head toward hers, as if he meant to whisper in her ear. Molly knew this display of relaxed intimacy was for Mrs. Singletary’s benefit. Her heart raced anyway.
This isn’t real, she reminded herself. This renewed closeness is only temporary, a ruse.
But what if their courtship wasn’t
pretend?
It was a lovely, scary, heart-pounding thought, one she didn’t dare allow to take hold. Losing Garrett the first time had been devastating. She couldn’t go through that pain again. She wouldn’t.
What she needed was a new formula to help her through the coming days, a four-step plan to forestall losing her heart to this man all over again.
When they entered the foyer, he turned to face her, putting his back to the stairs. She glanced over his head and noted that Mrs. Singletary was nowhere in sight.
Garrett took her hands in his. “Is the widow watching us?”
“Not at the moment.”
Leading with a grin, he brought her hands to his lips and kissed one, then the other. “Pity.”
Her sentiments exactly.
“I would have liked stealing a kiss.”
“I wouldn’t have objected.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He sounded intrigued, but instead of following through, he merely smiled. The look in his eyes was so sweet and tender and full of promise her breath stalled in her throat.
A deep inhale restarted her lungs.
“My brothers made it clear that they already suspect we’re courting. That plays in to our ruse. But, Molly, I won’t offer them confirmation unless they ask me directly.”
Trying to ignore her disappointment, she forced a light tone in her words. “What will you say if they ask?”
“As little as possible.”
What was it she saw in his eyes? A promise? A silent vow?
“Don’t look so worried, Molly. I have a plan.” He cupped her face in his palms and held her stare for a long, tense moment. “Trust me.”
“But, Garrett—”
“Trust me,” he said more firmly.
Will you hurt me again?
She didn’t have the courage to ask the question.
“Until next we meet.” After pressing an all-too-brief kiss to her cheek, he was gone.
She stared after him, his name a whisper in her heart. Something in his behavior made her believe he cared for her. Was he merely playing a role?
Or was his affection sincere?
She couldn’t be sure.
And that made her a little sad.
A sigh escaped her lips at the same moment Winston materialized by her side. “Mrs. Singletary is in the blue parlor. She has requested your company for tea.”
Molly nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’m on my way.”
“Very good, miss.” He sketched a bow.
One last look at the door and Molly set out. Halfway across the foyer, she stumbled across Lady Macbeth. “Well, now, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
The cat gave her a bland look.
Shrugging, she veered around the unmoving lump of fur. A pitiful meow had her looking back down.
“Honestly, you are so lazy.” Scooping up the cat, Molly continued on her way. She entered the parlor with a smile on her face and a purring cat in her arms. “Look who I found loitering in the foyer.”
“I’d wondered where she disappeared to.” Mrs. Singletary reached out her arms.
Molly deposited the cat in the widow’s lap. “Did your meeting with Garrett go well?”
“Better than expected.” The widow’s smile turned smug. “The man has a daring streak camouflaged behind all those fine, tailored clothes and polite manners. He’s quite the enigma, isn’t he?”
“Quite.” Enigma was the perfect definition for the man. Garrett was the most intriguing person Molly knew, and the most confounding. It would take a lifetime to uncover the mysteries in his heart.
“I predict he and I will work very well together.”
“That’s lovely to hear.”
Mrs. Singletary picked up a piece of string and waved it front of the cat. Lady Macbeth batted at the makeshift toy with tempered feline enthusiasm. “Now that my personal fortune is in good hands, I believe it’s time I address the charitable arm of my foundation.”
Molly smiled. It was no secret that Mrs. Singletary had a large, generous heart when it came to helping those less fortunate. Most of the charities in town wouldn’t exist without her liberal support.
“More to the point,” the widow continued, “I have a fund-raising idea that will require your assistance.”
Intrigued, Molly leaned forward in her chair. So far, her position as Mrs. Singletary’s personal secretary had included nothing more taxing than a bit of letter writing and errand running. “What did you have in mind?”
“I wish to throw a ball, a charity ball, with at least a hundred guests in attendance, perhaps more.”
Molly sat up straighter, anticipation flowing through her. “I assume you’ll want me to help with the guest list.”
“No, my dear, I can manage that myself.” She gave her arm a little pat. “I’m thinking it’s high time you learned how to organize a party on your own.”
Apprehension gnawed at her. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“I’ll help you, of course, but only a little.”
Her apprehension turned to sheer terror. “I have no experience.”
“That is precisely the point, my dear girl.” The widow’s lips curved into that sly grin Molly was growing to dread. “As the future wife of a talented young lawyer you must learn to entertain properly.”
* * *
Garrett headed back to his office with his head full of Molly, when he should be drawing up a mental list of preliminary investments for Mrs. Singletary to consider.
The widow had been easy to work with, their thinking eerily similar in terms of taking calculated risks, how far to go, when to pull back. Speaking of when to pull back…
Had he made a tactical error just now in the widow’s foyer? Should he have seized the moment and kissed Molly properly? Or had he been wise to do the chivalrous thing and walk away?
Sighing impatiently, he increased his pace, rounded the next corner.
He needed to get behind his desk and put a pen in his hand. The silence, the solitude, the lack of interruptions would provide the perfect ambience for him to work through the cornucopia of ideas he had in mind for Molly.
Mrs. Singletary, he mentally corrected. He needed to draw up a list of ideas for the widow before he allowed himself to think about Molly.
Molly. The Lord had blessed Garrett with a second chance and, this time, he wasn’t going to lose her.
She’d looked incredibly lovely in the foyer a few moments ago, with the afternoon light brushing softly across her black hair. The sun had caught her at just the right angle, setting off her blue eyes and creamy, porcelain skin.
He should have poured his heart out to her. He should have—
“Garrett?” A deep, male voice sent his thoughts grinding to a halt. “I thought that was you.”
The day only needed this.
Blowing out a slow hiss of air, Garrett squared his shoulders, turned and connected his gaze with Sheriff Trey Scott. For all intents and purposes, Molly’s very large, very lethal father.
Dressed in his usual black from head to toe—the only relief in the form of his silver badge—Molly’s father looked as formidable as his reputation. “Sheriff Scott.”
The lawman’s dark, or rather his hard, black gaze narrowed. “I don’t usually see you on this side of town.”
Garrett looked around him, only just realizing he’d taken a wrong turn several blocks back. His mind had been so consumed with wooing Molly he’d failed to pay attention to his surroundings.
Right, he’d been thinking about wooing Molly. This man’s beloved, only daughter. Important to keep that in mind.
As if reading his thoughts, Sheriff Scott’s eyes narrowed further still. Garrett swallowed. He’d heard stories about this hardnosed, uncompromising man, stories that involved the demise of the most evil outlaws in the country.
As a boy, Garrett had been in awe of the legendary lawman. He’d seemed larger than life and utterly terrifying.
“Something wrong, son?”
/>
Yeah, I’m still stuck on your daughter and all I can think about is winning her heart. “It’s been a full day.”
“Ah.” Sheriff Scott clapped him on the back, held on to his shoulder with a tight grip. “Life as an up-and-coming lawyer has its challenges.”
Garrett cracked a smile.
“It’s fortuitous we ran into each other.”
“Is it?” Garrett was thinking the exact opposite.
“Come with me.” The sheriff lowered his hand, his tone brooking no argument. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee.”
Yeah, he could. But he’d rather partake in his own office, alone, without a hawk-eyed lawman watching his every move. “Sounds good.”
He followed Molly’s father into the jailhouse.
“Have a seat.” The sheriff indicated a straight-back, wooden chair in front of a desk overflowing with stacks of papers.
Garrett shuddered at the disorder. “How do you find anything in that mess?”
The other man merely grinned. The gesture did nothing to soften the steely features. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Garrett did as requested and looked around while he waited for the sheriff’s return. To say the jailhouse was serviceable was being kind. The one-room structure had a stark, unwelcoming feel. The walls were bare. The black potbelly stove in the far corner spit and belched out only sporadic waves of heat. A mild, if sterile, aroma floated along the dank, chilled air.
The jail cells were empty today, clean, but uninviting with their lumpy cots and threadbare blankets. Not the place he’d choose to spend the night.
Garrett was just finishing his inspection of his surroundings, and trying not to shudder, when the sheriff returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to Garrett then placed the other to his lips.
There was something in the other man’s gaze, something shrewd and calculating, measuring almost.
Garrett had an uneasy feeling about his fortuitous meeting. He took a quick pull from his own mug.
“How are you settling in at Bennett, Bennett and Brand?”
He answered truthfully. “Very well.”
“The partners speak highly of you.”
“Good to know.” And it was. Garrett had spent the past six months proving he’d been hired for his legal mind, not his personal connection to Reese Bennett, Jr. His boss had been a family friend long before he’d asked Fanny to marry him.