Page 50 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“He’s a student in my English Basic Comp class at the community college,” Molly murmured, as if that explained the time she’d spent studying Finn from behind her sunglasses, feeling totally safe because, hey—dark glasses. “We know each other that way. Teacher. Student.”
Elaine’s eyebrows lifted as she washed the plate, but she did not look at Molly. The shift in her expression was enough to tell Molly that the dark glasses hadn’t been enough.
“Finn’s attractive,” she allowed in a carefully casual voice. “But I’m looking for more than a pretty face.”
“And he is good-looking. Finn looks a lot like Mike did when he was young.”
“You knew Mike when he was young?”
“I knew who he was. He didn’t know me.” She handed Molly a dish to rinse. “Well, if you’re not just looking for a pretty face, then what are you looking for in a partner?”
Molly frowned at her. “If someone had told me thirteen years ago that I’d be trading man-talk with my science teacher...”
Elaine smiled back. “Life is funny.” Then she raised her eyebrows in a clear invitation to continue.
“I’m looking for someone who probably doesn’t exist,” Molly said on a laugh. She’d made a list of qualities in her notebook and rattled off the top few. “He’ll be steady and predictable. Definitely professional—someone settled in their career. Maybe another college teacher.”
“Kind of a male version of yourself?” Elaine asked shrewdly.
“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. Compatibility and all that.”
“Not going for the excitement of opposites attract?”
“Been there. Done that.” Molly let out a long breath. “I won’t do it again.” She shot her former teacher a look. “Give me boring and sedate any day.” She gave a soft snort. “Wild attraction is fun, but it can also—” she looked for the right words and finally settled on “—lack substance.” Molly placed a plate in the drain rack. “Guess that’s why I need more than a pretty face.”
* * *
WHATWASTHATthing his mother used to say about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good about themselves?
Finn knew for a fact that wasn’t true, having secretly listened in on the occasional girl conversation back in the day, but it sure as hell was true in this case.
He finished scraping the barbecue grill into the trashcan, which just happened to be next to the open kitchen window. Molly and Ms. Fitch were still discussing the best qualities in a man. Qualities he apparently didn’t have, according to Molly. He could deal with not being her dream guy, but lacking substance and being just a pretty face?
That pissed him off.
“Looks good,” Mike said.
Finn glanced down at the grill that he’d been scrubbing with dry steel wool and saw that, yes, it was probably cleaner than it had been in years. Maybe since it was new.
“Yeah. I like a shiny grill.”
“Since when?” Mike asked.
Finn hefted the grill without answering and carried it back to the barbecue, where he set it in place.
Let it go.
And he did...right up until Molly went into the house for bowls so that he could dish out the ice cream he’d brought. He followed her into the kitchen and she smiled at him from cupboard.
“I got this. Seven of us, right?”
“Yeah.” Molly stopped counting bowls and glanced back at him with a slight frown. Part of him said to walk away. Another part, one that he couldn’t quite rein in, refused to back away, as he well should, in the name of peace and harmony.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not unless you count lack of substance and just being a pretty face.”
Molly’s cheeks went bright red. She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Finally she managed to get out a single word. “How?”
