Page 62 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“The purpose is to take out frustrations in a productive way.” He smiled a little at her wary expression. “You won’t know what I’m talking about until you’ve hammered out a dent.”
“It’s therapeutic?”
“Very.” He could think of only one thing that was more therapeutic and Molly wasn’t on board for that as near as he could tell—more’s the pity. He cocked his head. “Come on, Molly. Take a chance with a guy who lacks substance.”
“You aren’t going to let that die.”
“You struck a nerve.” Which was true. No one wanted to hear that they were just a pretty face.
“I only meant that you weren’t right for my life plan.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in being part of your life plan, so it’s a moot point.”
“Ouch.”
“But you’re relieved, aren’t you?”
Molly cocked her head. “This is one strange conversation.”
Finn jerked his head in the direction of his truck. “Coming?” She hesitated, so he added, “No kissing.” Her eyebrows went up at the candid promise. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a Scout?”
“Honor is honor. Come on.”
* * *
WHATAREYOUDOING?
Molly clutched the steering wheel a little tighter as she followed Finn’s truck into his driveway, then forced her fingers to relax.
Living life on my own terms.Which was legit and part of her overall life plan.
Don’t get burned. Also part of her life plan.
Hammering metal shouldn’t get her burned. She and Finn could be friends, and she was certain that was now the direction they were heading in. They’d kissed and it had almost gotten away from them—a warning sign to both of them to not go there, to the point that Finn had made no kissing a condition of her visit. Or had he simply been trying to put her at ease?
Whatever. She was here now and there would be no kissing...which kind of freed her up to enjoy the view as he led the way to his workshop.
This tug between what was possible and what was logical was killing her.
Finn opened the door and stood back as Molly stepped inside the shop, pausing to take in the brightly lit space. A pickup truck with its hood up dominated the center of the shop. Long workbenches and tool chests lined two of the walls, while machinery and racks of wood and metal took up the other two.
“Oh my gosh.” Molly made her way past the big Ford truck to what could only be described as a monster standing next to the rear exit.
“Frankie.”
“Original name.” Molly grinned as she reached out to touch the intricate pattern of bolts that formed his hair. “You made this?”
“I hated throwing away all the scrap. I could have sold it by the pound, but it was more fun turning it into Frank.”
“And you have another one.” A smaller frame of a squat little creature stood a few feet away, on the opposite side of the welder.
“As yet nameless. He will be shorter and lighter. I want to put him on the lawn for Halloween. I had similar plans for Frankie, but he wouldn’t be that stable on uneven ground. I don’t want to squish a passerby or anything.”
“Never a good thing.”
She looked around the shop, then back at Finn. “I like the way this place smells.”
