Reeling in Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  “She says the same exact thing. See? You guys are more alike than you realize.” Molly attempted to point out.

  “No, we aren’t. We couldn’t be more different.”

  “That’s not true. I disagree.”

  “Well, we’ll just agree to disagree,” Tiffany replied coolly then switched gears. “So, are you seeing Owen tonight?”

  Owen. He’d been starting to really grow on her. She’d give him that. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected, even after having dinner with him once last week. Getting hit by that fish may very well have been a good thing. She and Owen had been chatting on the phone daily. He’d made it a practice to stop by her studio with one decaf and one regular coffee around the same time each day. And he made her laugh, a lot.

  “I kind of like him,” Molly said as she picked at the last remaining crumbs of the banana nut muffin in front of her. “Like a lot, Tiff.”

  “Don’t tell Mac that. She might freak out. Mackenzie’s probably convinced he has some sort of evil plan to get you to fall for him, then he’ll end up hurting you. She doesn’t really trust men. You know?”

  Molly nodded but wished that Tiffany wasn’t so hard on Mackenzie. “Come on,” Molly begged. “Eat your scone or I’m stealing it.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Tiffany shoved it toward Molly.

  Tiffany wasn’t acting like herself at all, and Molly was worried. Maybe this argument had had much more of an impact than she’d even realized. There had always been a little surface tension. They were constantly fighting over Molly, to some degree. But considering that they had been friends for years, she’d hoped that they had their own bond by now. It had seemed like it at times, but maybe Molly was wrong.

  “You know…I’d better go.” Tiffany got up from her seat and gathered her large bag and sweater. “Have fun tonight, and let me know all about it, okay?”

  “What about Friday?” Molly asked hopefully.

  Tiffany shook her head. “Let’s not discuss it right now.”

  “Can’t you guys just get over this?”

  Tiffany bunched up her long dark tresses as she swung her imitation Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder. “Molly, don’t push. Okay?”

  Molly sat there, defeated, when Tiffany left. She watched as her friend looked both ways then crossed the busy street that was just outside the shop. She loved Tiffany and Mackenzie both. They were the sisters that she’d never had. Of course, she loved her brother, but a sister was something she had always hoped and prayed for—another female that she could share secrets with, someone that would know her inside and out. She’d found that when she’d met her two best friends, that thirst for sisterhood had finally been quenched. It tore her up knowing there was a chance they may not recover from this fight.

  * * * *

  Her stomach was a nasty bundle of nerves, and what for? Because this was a real date, not just coffee or grabbing some fish ‘n’ chips. No, this was like a shaved legs and cute panties and bra type of date, not that she actually had any intention of sleeping with Owen. It just made her feel sexier, which would then give her a boost of confidence.

  Okay, who was she kidding? Hell yes, she wanted to screw his brains out. The man exuded a kind of confidence that Molly found herself almost envying, but she was drawn to it. She felt the heat grow low in her belly whenever she heard his voice, and she swore her nipples tightened when she saw him…smelled his musky aroma. She’d had to use her trusty vibrator to take the edge off a couple of times after he’d left her studio in the afternoons. She couldn’t imagine what being with him through an entire date would do to her.

  She fussed with her outfit, looking at the full-length mirror that was mounted behind her bedroom door. Molly wasn’t sure if she liked what she was seeing—a black top that was loose and had a plunging neckline. The tight dark-wash jeans made her butt look good. The downside was that they made her legs look stubby. There was just no winning sometimes. Oh well. She wore large silver hoop earrings. Her brown hair was in relaxed waves and her makeup wasn’t half bad. The pink lip gloss did wonders for her thin lips, making them look lush and full. She’d paid good money for that stuff because it worked wonders. There was a knock at the door. This is it.

  Inhaling as deeply as she could, Molly held her breath as she opened her front door. There Owen stood, looking confident and incredibly handsome, dressed in a light blue polo shirt and khakis that clung to his body. She could see hard muscles straining against the fabric of his clothes, muscles that weren’t bought in a gym like so many of the models she worked with. No, these were developed and earned through hard labor—manly work. Her mind had an active imagination that had just gone full throttle, and her body’s reaction? God help me.

  “Wow, you look amazing, Molly,” Owen eyed her up and down. A pleased look danced across his face.

  Suddenly she felt self-conscious as she let him inside her apartment. “Thanks. You look great too.” She watched him walk by and snuck a peek at his assets. Her brain went into overdrive, picturing him without all those pesky clothes on. Nice ass…

  “Your place is so…”

  “Small. I know.” She was able to push the naughty thoughts away, for now.

  He stood there in the tiny living room, surveying the space. “Well, yeah, I guess so. But it’s nice.”

  “But it’s not my studio, right?” Molly stood next to him, suddenly aware that he’d been holding flowers, a lovely bouquet of sunflowers—strong and sturdy stems with bright yellow heads. They were gorgeous and one of her favorite flowers.

  “Your studio is awesome. That view you have there—” Owen stopped when he realized he was still holding the flowers. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. These are for you. I wasn’t sure which kind you liked.”

  Now she saw the nerves. That confidence seemed to disappear as he fumbled with the flowers, handing them to her in an awkward motion.

  “These are beautiful and I love them.” Molly paused. She had almost stepped in to kiss him. Too soon. Yet she couldn’t deny the hot flash of attraction she felt for him.

  Owen’s gray eyes twinkled and he flashed a boyish grin. “I’m glad you like them. When I saw them, they reminded me of you. They are bright and made me smile, just like you do.”

  “So I don’t come off as an orchid or a tulip or a rose?” she teased as she wandered toward the kitchen in search of a vase.

  “I guess not.”

  “I always pegged myself for a lily.”

  Owen’s face grew confused. “Really? I should have—”

  Molly laughed as she filled up a tall glass vase that she’d retrieved from under the sink. “No. Gosh, I don’t consider myself any kind of a flower at all—maybe an ugly old weed, but definitely not a flower.”

  Owen moved in close behind her and whispered, “Oh, but you are. You’re a gorgeous flower, rare and vibrant, and you smell incredible.”

  Molly tensed up, her body becoming immediately aware of his. He towered over her. She felt sheltered and she found herself growing warm. She stood there, waiting for him to make some kind of move, willing him to do something, but he never did. He backed away, leaving her smoldering.

  “Hungry?” Owen asked innocently.

  He has no idea.

  * * * *

  “God, you’re funny.” Owen was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

  “It’s not funny. I swear it really happened to me. You, of all people, should know. I don’t exactly have the best luck,” Molly pointed out playfully.

  They were seated across from each other. A small candle flickered in a clear glass jar in the center of the table. Owen couldn’t have picked a more romantic place. Soft music floated in the air that also carried a heady scent of garlic. Italian food was a favorite of Molly’s and the atmosphere of this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant was perfect. She felt happy. That was the only way to describe it. But having dinner with Owen anywhere would probably have had the same effect on her.

  “That’s true. You kn
ow, I’m glad that you were in the way that day.” He stared at her, claiming her with his eyes.

  “In the way? Oh no, you got it wrong, buddy. I was standing there, minding my own business, not in the way at all. It was your fault.”

  Owen pulled back. His face scrunched up in confusion as he replied, “What? Oh, babe, you got hit a little harder than I realized.” An arrogant smirk was on his face, causing Molly to feel an unexpected bubble of irritation erupt inside of her. Owen pointed at her and explained, “No, you were standing right in the line of fire. You were too busy either talking to that model buddy of yours or just not paying attention, but I can assure you that I’m not the one at fault. It was you, doll.”

  Molly raised her eyebrows, surprised that he refused to believe he’d had any part in her being hit by that stupid fish. Maybe throwing fish in a public place wasn’t such a great idea. Couldn’t they just bring in the catch on a cart or something? She huffed. Things had been going so well until he’d brought up that fish incident, but perhaps she was being oversensitive. What did she know?

  Dating was not her thing. She’d avoided it like the plague. She never knew where she stood with the guy. The whole awkwardness of getting to know someone was almost just too brutal to endure, especially in public. Then there was eating in front of some complete stranger while trying to decide if he was marriage material or just someone she might want to practice indoor sports with. Then there was Owen. He sat across from her, his features slightly shadowed in the low-lit restaurant, but the smug look on his face could be read clearly.

  Only moments ago, Molly had been convinced that Owen might be, at the very least, worth considering for boyfriend material. She’d absolutely wanted to play in the sheets with him, but now she wasn’t so sure. Something about Owen was making her reconsider her dislike of dating. He’d made her feel comfortable. It wasn’t every day that she met someone with gorgeous eyes, the most kissable lips and who had the ability to make her melt. Sure, their meeting had been the most unlikely of circumstances, but he’d made her laugh and she’d made him laugh. But she wasn’t laughing now. Right now she would much rather be in her studio or tucked away in her bed.

  Molly let out a long sigh, hating herself a little as she digested all these rambling thoughts, allowing them to make her filled with self-doubt. Why do I have to do this every time I find myself out on a date? Overthinking, wanting to creep back into my shell to hide and overwhelmed by anxiety… God, I suck at dating. Molly actually started to feel bad for Owen. The poor guy had no idea what kind of nut job he had reeled in. She just wanted this to end. Check, please!

  Chapter Five

  Molly watched the rain splatter against the tall windows in her studio. The room was dark from the missing sun that had been kidnapped by yet another rainstorm, but it suited Molly’s mood just fine—gloomy and wet. Wiping away a rogue tear—oh, there had been plenty earlier—Molly had locked herself inside her tower. She’d tried working on various edits, but her mind and heart weren’t invested in doing anything productive today.

  It was also Friday. Tiffany and Mackenzie still weren’t speaking, and she was pretty sure that they wouldn’t be hanging out basking in their amazing friendship. The more Molly thought about it, the more she realized that neither had really talked to her over the last couple of days.

  She took her cell phone out of her back jeans pocket then peeked down at the screen. She frowned. No word from Owen, either. Their date had been a couple of nights ago and she couldn’t help but feel like it might very well have been their last. Was she surprised that she’d screwed it up? Nope. This was her pattern and why she was in her thirties and single. She was romantically challenged and she had no idea why. Her parents were still married, so she couldn’t use the whole broken home excuse. Her brother, who was only a few years younger, was happily married with a couple of adorable offspring. Most of her other friends were all starting to create their own perfect nuclear families with two point five kids. Not Molly, Tiffany or Mackenzie. Mackenzie had been the closest. She had actually been engaged.

  Molly closed her eyes, remembering the pained expression in her friend’s dark eyes as Tiffany had brought up the ugliness that they’d all worked so hard to forget. Being left by the love of her life only days before her wedding day was something Mackenzie might never quite get over. Why had Tiffany needed to go there? Because she had felt backed into a corner and she’d lashed out with the only ammunition she had. Was it fair? No, but Molly understood…sort of. She wouldn’t have even dared to bring up that nasty little piece of history they’d all barely survived. Molly knew Tiffany would not have normally thrown that at Mackenzie, but she’d reached her limit. People said stuff when they were angry, but the question Molly had kept pondering all week was, why had things gotten so blown out of proportion? The fight had escalated so quickly. The more Molly thought about it, the more confused she was. Couldn’t have this whole thing been avoided? It just didn’t make any sense to her and she wasn’t sure it ever would.

  So what was the game plan for tonight? A lonely Friday. Maybe she should order takeout and try to get some work done, or retreat back to her tiny apartment and hide under her covers. Today sucked. More tears sprang from her eyes. How much water could one person cry out? She felt like a hormonal mess, which only made her more upset. That sensation of not having any control over her emotions—not truly having a valid reason for crying—only pissed her off more. Gently swiping away more tears, Molly stared out of the window, letting her forehead press against the cold glass. Seattle seemed to sparkle with the rainfall. The dismal gray that hovered over the city was ignored as life continued to move at a hurried pace below. She was lost in her blank thoughts when she heard the distant sound of her door buzzer. Molly sighed. She was in no mood to deal with people.

  Cursing under her breath, she opened the door and there he was—Owen, with a sturdy cardboard container balanced in his hand and a white paper sack that she knew was filled with scrumptious treats. But it was the delicious half-curved smile on his face that made her realize how much she had missed him.

  “I promise it’s not decaf,” he joked while Molly tried to catch her breath.

  “It had better not be.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Molly knew there was no point in turning him away. The man had brought coffee, after all. Besides, he looked all sorts of handsome, which wasn’t hard for him to do.

  “If I said no?” Molly placed her hand on her hip, taking a firm step closer into the large metal door jamb. Might as well play the game.

  Owen grinned. Light danced in his stormy eyes. He stepped closer, eliminating the empty space between them. “I’d ask again until you caved.”

  “Why? I haven’t heard from you in days.”

  “Two. Only two days.” He held up two fingers and slowly let them rest on her lips. The unexpected warmth of his touch sent a quiet tremor through her. Owen looked down hungrily at her. “You needed time to cool off.”

  When she took a step back, he lifted his fingers from her lips and she instantly missed them. “Me? You started it. You don’t know what I need.” Molly knew exactly what she needed, but her temper tantrum and stubborn ass made having that virtually impossible.

  “Oh, babe, let’s not do this. Trust me. I know what you need.” He raised the coffee again. Why does he have to bribe me with my addiction? The man was the devil. He was good, she’d give him that.

  She braced herself against the door jamb, not entirely sure what to say. She decided to keep her mouth closed and hoped that it would speak volumes to him. She didn’t want to battle him, especially as her nose had begun to pick up delicious scents, but she wanted to make a point that she couldn’t be bought by some fancy coffee. Who was she kidding? Of course she could. This was coffee she was talking about.

  “Owen, I just don’t know…”

  He moved in again. His lips brushed her forehead. “Molly, couples fight.”

  Couples? Molly was n
ot expecting that word to escape his mouth, but that was nothing compared to feeling the soft pressure of his lips suddenly crushing down onto hers. Her mind became a whirlpool of thoughts, confusion and desire, all spinning. The warmth spread through her body. Her body had forgiven him, regardless of what her mind thought.

  “And couples make up,” he added when the kiss ended.

  * * * *

  She was still wrapping her mind around the events that had taken place that afternoon. Molly had been home for a little while, immediately seeking refuge in the warm nest of her bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows, safe from the damp world outside and alone to process her thoughts. It was as though her brain had taken stills—silent shots of what had transpired in her studio after Owen had shown up. Replaying the slide show over and over again, she still wasn’t certain about what exactly had happened. Molly could see it in her mind. She even felt the slight numbness on her lips as she licked them, remembering the kissing after she’d let Owen inside. He had been careful to set the coffee down—that much she remembered—but then a tornado of pent-up frustration and need had swept them both up in a wild make-out storm. She had never been kissed like that. It was as though she were water for a man dying of thirst, him stealing every drop until he was quenched. He had been rough and gentle, a perfect balance that still had her body buzzing and craving more. She’d felt the hardness of his arousal and, though size wasn’t supposed to matter, Molly knew better. The enormous bulge she’d felt had made promises that she hoped it could keep. She couldn’t help but imagine how magnificent he must be at making love, judging by the way he kissed. The man had skills she had been unaware existed until they’d made out. Owen had teased her, bringing Molly to a frustrating edge by nipping at her lip or kissing her neck. She had quickly discovered how much power he had over her just with his mouth. Molly had never felt her desire begin to boil so quickly and that worried her.