Page 41 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“Maybe someone who didn’t have an ax with my name on it to grind.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue, but instead she asked, “What made you decide to teach automotives?”
The Ford truck they’d skirted a few minutes before roared to life and Finn stepped even closer to Molly’s car to let the guy by. “I helped some of the new recruits learn the ropes when I was overseas. I was actually good at it.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You seem surprised.”
“Well, I apologize. Preconceived notions and all that.”
“I’m not still the guy who brought you home from a date and then got laid elsewhere.”
“That guy’s still in there,” she said.
“So’s the girl who refused to talk to me all evening long.” He leaned a little closer. “Molly—that date was painful.”
Her pretty mouth tightened and then she briefly rolled her eyes up toward the sky in a gesture of defeat. “Not what I wanted to hear.”
“Sorry.” Yeah, he’d been bad that night, but Molly had been another part of the reason why they hadn’t had a good time. “Maybe you owe me a new date to make up for it.”
“Then I can drop you off and get laid afterward?”
Finn laughed. Molly could play. He liked that. Maybe more than he should. “That would be a first,” he deadpanned.
Molly’s eyes narrowed in thoughtful consideration. “Are you sure about that?”
Finn’s smile grew. A small car whipped past them, going too fast for the lot, and Finn stepped closer to Molly, recognizing Denny behind the wheel.
“What an a-hole.”
“If you teach, you have to deal with them,” Molly said, reaching for her door handle. “Part of the game.”
Finn hadn’t considered that part of the game.
“I need to go,” Molly said. “I hate getting home too late.”
“Understood.”
Yet she hesitated, bouncing a look down at the ground and then back up at him. “If you need more help...please stop by during office hours.”
Back to the neutral corners now, which felt odd after joking about getting laid.
“You bet.” He gave her a nod as she opened the door, then turned and started toward his truck a few rows away.
“And Finn?”
He looked back.
“Bring the kitten.”
* * *
“THISISAvery bad idea.” Mike adjusted his collar in the mirror, then smoothed his hand over his silvery hair. Finn stood a couple yards behind his grandfather and, because his reflection showed in the mirror at which Mike was primping, he kept his expression carefully solemn—no easy task when Buddy kept tumbling out from under the chair to attack Mike’s shoelaces before awkwardly retreating back into his makeshift lair.
“This is coffee.”
“Easy enough for you to say. You aren’t going on a date with a stranger.”
