Page 78 of Lost Then Found
Molly huffs but doesn’t press the issue, clearly picking her battles. She points a butter knife at Sage. “If he steals a piece of bread, he’s out.”
Sage rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead making her way over to Hudson. She crouches slightly so they’re at eye level, offering a hand. “I’m Sage. ThebestWilding sibling.”
Hudson shakes her hand, then glances around the room. “How many of you are there?”
Everyone bursts into laughter.
“Too many,” Boone mutters. “Not enough,” Molly says at the same time.
Sage grins. “Four. But I’m the best one.”
Ridge snorts and shoves her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her.”
Hudson’s grin grows wider. “I don’t know. She seems cool.”
Ridge narrows his eyes playfully. “Alright, kid. You know how to play poker?”
Hudson shakes his head. “No.”
Ridge nods, rubbing his hands together. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know—”
I clear my throat.
Ridge pauses, then flashes me a slow, guilty grin. “Later,” he amends, winking at Hudson.
Loretta stretches, rolling her shoulders. “Well, I better get back home.”
Molly grabs her arm before she can take a step. “You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving.”
Loretta chuckles, shaking her head. “No point in arguing with Molly Wilding,” she says, then winks at Hudson. “That’s a good lesson to learn early on.”
Hudson grins. “Noted.”
Molly claps her hands together. “Alright, you all know the drill. Set the table.”
There’s no hesitation—just movement. Because in the Wilding house, when Molly said to set the table, you hauled your ass.
Chairs scrape against the floor. Plates get pulled from cabinets. The hum of conversation fills the kitchen as hands pass glasses and silverware, as cabinets open and shut, as someone—probably Ridge—starts whistling an off-key tune.
Molly turns to Hudson, holding out a casserole dish. “You strong enough to carry this to the table?”
Hudson scoffs. “Please.”
Molly throws her head back, laughing, then gestures for him to go on. He takes it easily, marching it over like it weighs nothing.
I move toward the counter to grab the mason jars Molly uses as drinking glasses, squeezing between Sage and Boone to reach them. Just as I do, Boone reaches for them too.
Our hands touch—barely, a ghost of contact.
Then our bodies. A breath between us. No more.
I go still.
So does he.
The warmth of his skin jolts something in me, something hot and restless and completely uninvited. I pull back quickly. “Sorry.”
Boone chuckles, low and easy. “My bad.”
