by Liz Kelly
Somewhere inside of her, that statement rang true. She eyed Josh once more before downing the rest of her drink. She handed it off to a passing waiter and put a second hand on Josh’s shoulders.
“Better,” said Josh.
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Yeah, ya are.”
It came out so matter-of-factly, stated with such quiet certainty that it made Molly nervous. Nervous way down deep on the inside where desire and hope mingled and things got a little tingly.
She should cut her losses now, she thought. Just turn and walk away. Stick with the plan. The ladylike, play-it-safe, no-sleeping-with-Josh, really, really boring plan.
Damn! What was with all this boring talk? She wasn’t boring, and she didn’t have to be the life of the party to prove it. Raleigh was boring. Life without her friends and family was boring. She…
It hit her then—the truth. She couldn’t come home. She, Molly DuVal—the real Molly DuVal, the one who preferred tequila over wine, the one who liked the way Josh’s hands were sliding over her back, the one who really, really liked the nervous, tingly quiver of longing he was coaxing out—would never be able to come home.
And that hurt.
“I need another drink,” she said, turning to pull Josh off the dance floor.
“No,” Josh said, pulling her back into his arms. “You just need a few minutes to wrap your head around what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing is happening between us.”
“Plenty is happening between us. And no one but you and I need to know about it.”
“That’s not how it works with me,” she confessed. “Trust me. A nice guy like you—a teacher at the high school—you don’t want your good name tangled up with mine at the end of the night.”
“What are you so afraid of? Besides having a little fun? Look around you for heaven’s sake.” Josh turned her so that her back was up against his front. His arms crossed at her tummy, and his chin hovered just over her shoulder as he spoke. “First of all, let me remind you that this is not the Molly DuVal show. It’s a wedding. If you’ll notice, everyone is watching the bride and groom. Not us. Not you. And certainly not me.”
Molly let her rigid stance ease a bit. Because, of course, Josh was right. The party in front of her was in full swing. Guests were either sitting down at the tables eating and drinking or crowding the bars and dance floor. She also noticed that her Aunt Genevra was making out with her groom like she was a lovestruck teenager. And that her cousin Lolly was sitting on top of a bar—actually sitting up there—one hand on Brooks Bennett’s cheek as she leaned in to kiss him. Her own parents were on the dance floor, her mother wearing a too-tight and too-short dress to be age-appropriate, with her father’s hand attached to her ass like they were in a seedy night club. She spied Lucy, Jacey, and Vivi doing shots with a cute dark-haired bartender, and the rest of her cousins were singing at the top of their lungs over there in front of the band.
Hell. She’d be the last one anybody would bother looking at right now. She turned around inside of Josh’s arms and blinked up at him.
“My apple was just the first to fall off the tree, wasn’t it?”
Josh cocked his head, giving her a short grin. “I’ve lived in this town for the last five years. The DuVal name is well respected, but it is widely known that not one of them is a wallflower. Starting with your father. You being a girl and the first of the next generation was just an unfortunate twist of fate. Now…” he shrugged, “the rest of them have joined your party.”
“So it seems. But I’m still the one bad apple.”
Josh shrugged. “I’m a twenty-eight-year-old brainiac who’s never snuck a girl into a locker room. Wanna trade?”
Molly smiled. Josh made her smile. A lot. She leaned her cheek against his chest, not caring that the music was loud and fast.
“Your father promised me faux Google Glass if I keep you out of trouble tonight.”
That had her snapping her head up. “What?”
“That happened after I had already asked Vance to introduce us.”
She shook her head, not following.
“Just making sure you understand the force of nature you are up against.”
“What force of nature is that exactly?”
“I’m a new man, Molly DuVal. I might have been too shy to ask you out that day back in high school, but I am now a football coach among other things, and I’ve developed a few fancy moves of my own. Prepare to be dazzled.”
Molly burst out laughing.
“Luckily, my ego is nimble enough to dodge that reaction.”
Molly’s mouth hung open in an awed smile. She couldn’t remember ever having someone of the opposite sex render her speechless. “I’m…flustered.” She even felt herself blush when she said it. “I’m fairly certain I’ve never had a date make me speechless.”
“Your taste in men has been less than stellar. I’m bringing more to the table. I plan to leave you speechless a lot.”
Oh. My.
“You want to up your game? I’m your man. You want Henderson? I’ve got it in my pocket.”
“Don’t tell me. All I have to do is reach into your pocket, right?”
He swung her underneath his arm and then dipped her low. Leaving her defenseless in his arms and dangling inches from the floor, he said, “You, sweet Molly, don’t have to do one damn thing. I’m planning to take care of all of it—but good.” He swung her back up into a standing position where woozy didn’t begin to describe her state.
She was sure it was that state that had her blurting, “You, Josh McCourt, are making me think about everything I shouldn’t be thinking about.”
To which he calmly stated, “Now we’re finally getting somewhere.”
Chapter Seven
True to his word, Hot Poindexter, a.k.a Josh McCourt, took Molly by the hand and showed her that he did indeed have Henderson in his pocket. The boy from Oxford, Henderson’s rival town, stole a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray, whispered in the man’s ear, and then dragged Molly behind him right over to none other than Evie Jackson.
“Mrs. Jackson,” Josh said, interrupting the conversation at her table.
Molly, horrified as she scanned the upturned faces one by one, realized she could name each one of the old biddies sitting there sporting their silver-grey updos and ancient pearls. This was bigger than just Evie Jackson. Josh had brought her right to the nucleus of Henderson’s society. To the foot of the formidable mountain she had to climb. This was the generation most unlikely to forgive her. This was the generation she had to persuade to ease their harsh assessment.
And here she was…speechless.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to bring you this champagne as a thank you for that kind note you sent me,” Josh was saying. The waiter arrived then with a tray full of champagne glasses. “And I didn’t want to leave out these other young ladies,” Josh said as the women clapped hands and tittered as champagne was placed before them. “I am happy to hear the Garden Club was able to make use of the vegetable software. I took a walk over to the plot of land you ladies have transformed so beautifully and noticed you’ve got quite the bumper crop going this year. I confess the tomatoes were in such abundance I took a couple home with me.”
“Oh, Josh.” Evie Jackson swatted at him flirtatiously. “You take what you want from that garden. I mean it. Our thumbs would not be nearly so green if it wasn’t for your soil tests and computer-generated layouts.”
“Ladies, I believe y’all know my date, and the bride’s niece, Molly DuVal.”
Date?
“Hmm,” Evie said, giving Molly careful scrutiny. “Molly.”
“Mrs. Jackson,” Molly said meekly.
Josh dove right in. “I understand Molly was engaged to your grandson, Mrs. Jackson.”
What the hell?
“Mmm. Yes. Breakin’ her engagement to our Tyler is probably what Molly is best known for around here,�
�� Evie said, caging her harsh remark with her full-on Southern belle smile. “A word to the wise, Josh.”
“How is Tyler doing these days?” Josh proceeded undaunted.
Mrs. Jackson’s smile became genuine. “Why he’s just had twins,” she whispered—completely in awe. “Two beautiful baby girls. Named after me and his other grandmother.”
“I bet you could not be prouder.” Josh beamed back at her.
“No, I honestly could not,” Evie agreed.
Josh dropped his voice just a bit. “So, it worked out for the best then.”
“It did,” Evie agreed. As those words sunk in—Molly saw it happen—Evie’s expression changed, and she looked back over at Molly and nodded.
It was subtle. But the change was there.
Josh.
“And how ‘bout your son’s boy, Mrs. Z? And his buddy, Mrs. Simms’ grandson and yours too, Mrs. Swift? That little scuttle out by the lake get itself all worked out?”
Mrs. Zimmerman and the other ladies laughed nervously. “Oh, Josh…you know…boys will be boys.”
“And girls will be girls,” he said bringing Molly in closer with his right arm around her waist. “Mrs. Egan, I understand that you were quite the scandalous debutante back in your day. How many times were you engaged before Mr. Egan managed to wrestle you down the aisle?”
Dottie Egan blushed proudly.
“Henderson has a rich history, starting right here with all of you beautiful women. I’m doing my best to convince Molly to leave all the glories of Raleigh and come home. Take her rightful place in the heart of Henderson’s history and continue the grand traditions that your mothers started and y’all continue to uphold today.
“Oh, Molly,” Mrs. Egan said. “You should come home. This town is dryin’ up faster than my skin in winter with all you youngsters leavin’ for greener pastures. We need the young people to stick around and start raising families again. Keep this town viable. Isn’t that right, Evie? You said so yourself when Tyler moved away.”
Evie Jackson turned her full attention to Molly. She even reached out and took her by the hand. “It’s true, Molly. I’m afraid it’s going to be left to your generation to turn this town around. We need girls like you to come back home and raise families here.”
“Girls like me?” Molly choked out.
“Exactly like you,” Evie Jackson assured her with a tug to her hand. “Girls who are movers and shakers and won’t be afraid to get things done around here. Now enough of all this. You two get out there and dance. Us old women need something to talk about, so git.”
As Josh clasped Molly’s hand and pulled her away, she whispered, “We are staying off the dance floor. I refuse to give them one more thing to talk about.”
“Fine,” Josh agreed as they approached the bar. “Because you and I have a few things that need settling.”
“I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“Oh.” Josh pulled her around to face him and grinned wickedly. “You think I did all that just so I could get in your pants?”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“No. I did that so you’d stop worrying about changing your stripes. I did that so the real Molly DuVal—the rock star—can finally move back home. I did that so that I can then initiate my very tricked-out plan of seduction to get in your pants.”
“Tricked-out plan of seduction?”
“I’ve got an app for that.”
Hot Poindexter didn’t need an app. He was doing just fine on his own. Making her feel a little giddy and lulling her into a false sense of security that she was going to be allowed back through the gates of Henderson.
“Well, thank you for that. With Evie,” she added as Josh ordered them drinks. “You accomplished in a few minutes what I had figured would take me months of well-placed, well-timed, serene social outings.”
“Yeah—no. I don’t have time for that. We are fast trackin’ you back to Henderson. So what’s next?”
“Well, if you can work your magic and dazzle Aunt Charlotte over there into forgiving me for getting Jacey left off the debutante list, it’d be smooth sailing.”
“All right then. Come on.”
Molly stumbled along behind him, her hand firmly in Josh’s grasp. He stood her right next to Aunt Charlotte and her two best friends who were in the middle of howling about one funny thing or another—all of them on the brink of slurring their words.
“Molly!” Aunt Charlotte looked a little startled, like she wasn’t certain whether she’d just been overheard.
Molly was plenty startled herself. She felt a push from behind and heard Josh’s quiet command in her ear. “Fast track. Improvise.”
“Aunt Charlotte,” Molly said breathlessly. “Miss Mary, Miss Caroline.” Molly nodded in greeting to the other two ladies.
“It’s good to see you here, Molly,” Miss Mary said kindly.
“Thank you. Thank you for that. Because it’s good to be back,” Molly said, twisting her hands together. “I’ve missed Henderson. Missed the family and missed my friends. Raleigh has a lot to offer, but you know—you need your people.” She bobbed her head, anxious.
“That’s true,” Miss Caroline agreed. “Why, the three of us have known each other since we had our babies together.” She indicated her good friends standing in the circle. “I don’t know what I’d do if one of you decided to move away.”
“Oh—don’t even think of it,” Aunt Charlotte said. “Havin’ your friends close by—well, that’s just everything, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Molly agreed. “I can tell you from experience that new friends are wonderful and can certainly broaden your horizons. But, old friends and cousins,” she said, looking at her Aunt Charlotte, “well, there’s no replacing those.”
Aunt Charlotte put her arm around Molly. “You want to come home.”
“I do. I’m planning to move back.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, your cousins will be very happy to hear this news.”
Molly struggled to pull her courage together, knowing that if she didn’t address the elephant in the room now, she never would.
“What about you, Aunt Charlotte?” she ventured sincerely. “I’ve been racking my brain for ways to make up the lack of Jacey’s debut to you—and frankly, the only thing I can think of is to ask my friend, David, a portrait photographer, to take some shots of Jacey in your deb dress. It would be my treat. He’s a gifted artist, and it might be fun for Jacey to haul your dress to Raleigh for a sitting. I could arrange for a makeup artist to do her face and a stylist to do her hair. I know it would never replace the ball, but maybe having a framed picture of Jacey in your gown sitting next to your own debutante portrait in the living room might make the disappointment a little more tolerable.”
“That is a wonderful idea,” Miss Mary squealed. “Jessie-belle and I’ll join you. Remember, she was going through that God-awful black-hair phase when she came out? The pictures are atrocious. I would love to have a portrait done now that she’s back to her natural color.”
“Sure,” Molly said. “We’ll make a day of it. Throw in a little shopping and lunch.”
“Molly, that is very thoughtful. And generous,” her aunt said quietly, looking truly touched. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
“Good.”
Standing under her aunt’s forgiving gaze, Molly felt her shoulders let go of long-held tension. She might not sleep with Hot Poindexter tonight, but she was definitely going to kiss him. She hugged her aunt and then introduced Josh as her date.
They walked away from the ladies hand in hand, strolling out of the tent where the evening was stretching out, showing off its last gasps of light in a glorious display. The day’s weather had been spectacular and the night ahead promised as much. Molly let her mind float, taking in the gentle breeze, the rolling hills, and an unparalleled feeling of contentment.
Josh had done that for her. Who knew Hot Poindexter was a take-charge, grab-the-bull-by-the-horns k
ind of guy? Wasn’t that generally her role?
They stood together, away from the crowds, facing the sunset. “So…,” she finally asked, feeling like she indeed owed him something, “what is it you want from me, Josh?”
Josh chuckled. “I have not minced words, darlin’.”
She turned her face toward his, quirking a brow.
“Move home. We’ll figure the rest out.”
She looked back toward the sunset. After a while, she told the truth as she saw it. “I’m not smart enough for you.”
She felt his thumb rub over hers. “I’m smart enough for the both of us.”
She laughed.
The moment quieted and she confessed more. “I’m not planning on coming home and tearing it up, but you’ve seen the rest of the DuVals in action. I’m probably still gonna be a handful.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got two.”
She had to give him credit. The man sure knew how to make her smile.
Finally, Molly turned to Josh, sighing. “What’s really going on here?”
He shook his head. “I’m lonely,” he said, granting her a little smile. “Simple as that. I’ve led a fairly solitary life following my intellectual pursuits. Now I’m an assistant coach and I see all these young guys, old guys too, having fun. Being a part of something. A team. A crowd. A group of friends. A community. I want that. I want to be a part of something.”
“Not sure how I fit in, exactly.”
He shrugged. “I caught my front line chasing girls around the locker room. Looked like fun. One of the girls was your cousin, Tinley. She looks a lot like you did back then. Made me think of the time we met. How pretty you were. How you flirted with me even though I was nothin’. But what I especially remember was your kindness. How you went out of your way to save me from further embarrassment. How you walked with me, showing me the way to the auditorium—talkin’ with me the whole time like I was important—and then, wishin’ me luck.
“I’m sure that’s how you treated everybody. Probably still do. But that’s not how most people operate. I know that for sure. So to be exposed to that sort of kindness, especially during high school—when not a lot of that was going around—meant something. That day we met, I became a Molly DuVal fan.”