Page 64 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“Kind of.” Finn smiled at her. “I’ll show you how to do some different textures...”
Half an hour later, Molly had used a variety of hammers for a variety of different techniques. Finn was a patient teacher and she could see now why he wanted to make it his career. He made her feel confident, even though she’d been patently uncertain when she’d walked into his shop.
“You’re different here,” she said without really thinking.
“You are, too.”
Molly wanted to ask, “How so?” but didn’t. This was not a real place for her. She was visiting Finn’s world, which was far different from her own.
“Have you made any other artwork?” she asked.
“Artwork?”
“Frankie?”
Finn gave a scoffing laugh. “That’s not art. That’s recycling.”
Molly disagreed, but wasn’t there to argue. “Do you have any other recycling?”
“A few pieces in my backyard. Smaller.”
“Can I see them before I go?”
“You’re leaving?”
Molly bit her lip. So very tempting to say,No. I’m not leaving, and then see what unfolded. “I think I’d better.”
He didn’t argue. Molly took off her glasses and her gloves, set them side by side on the bench. “This has been fun.”
“You’ll have to come back.” He said it in a way that told Molly that he didn’t believe she would. He was right. Being here...she saw too much potential for trouble. For getting in over her head. as she’d gotten in over her head with Blake.
They left the shop and walked by the light of the full moon up the short path to his house. He veered to the right and opened the gate of the chain-link fence. His back porch light was on, illuminating the metal pieces in his backyard. Molly went from piece to piece. A funky glass table supported by what looked like a twisted tree, a chair made entirely of old rusty bolts, a swan with raised wings supporting a rustic wooden planter.
“That’s it. These three pieces.”
“You’re talented. Ever thought of making this your career?”
“I was thinking that I wanted something more stable.” He shot her a sideways look. “Surely you understand that.”
“I do.” She smiled a little. “You are a good teacher.”
“I know.”
“Can you handle the Jonases of the world?”
“Do those guys take automotives?”
“The Dennys do.”
Finn let out a breath. “You had to say that.”
“Reality bites.” She reached out to touch him, to lay her hand on his upper arm. His gaze jerked toward her as his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. “I don’t want you to give up the idea of teaching. Not for a second. But it’s important to go into it with eyes wide open. It’s not what it looks like from the outside. Many students are not empty vessels waiting to be filled. They’re there for a credit and to cause trouble.”
“Rosy picture.” He started back out the gate and Molly followed as they headed down the driveway toward her small car. “Sometimes I envy Dylan. He may have taken some side trips, but he always knew what he wanted. And now he’s accomplished it.” He stopped next to her car. “I imagine you always knew what you wanted to do, too.”
“Guilty.”
Finn lifted his chin, looked over the top of the car off into the distance, then back at her, making an obvious effort to push unsettling thoughts aside. “Did hammering help with your frustrations?”
