Page 70 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“You know,” Jolie said with mock seriousness, “I kind of feel like a loser because I never had a table.”
“You kind of had to study to have a table,” Dylan pointed out as he slipped a hand around the back of Jolie’s chair.
“Studying...” Jolie made a dismissive gesture. “I did okay with gut instincts and a little luck. Is beer all right, Molly? We ordered a couple of pitchers.”
“Beer is great. Thank you.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when two pitchers clunked down on the table. Finn did the honors, pouring perfect, almost foamless glasses for everyone.
“Haven’t lost your touch, I see.” Dylan raised his glass in a mini salute.
“Some people study. Some people pour beer,” Finn replied. “I didn’t have a table either, because I was busy learning other skills.”
Molly raised her glass. “Here’s to other skills.”
Jolie smiled and drank, then leaned against Dylan’s arm, which rested along the back of her chair. The two radiated contentment, which was so odd after their epic high school feud. If Mike had succeeded in bringing the two of them together, as he’d intimated to Georgina, then he truly had skills in the matchmaking department. What would it be like to be so content?
Molly took a healthy drink. Actually, shehadbeen that content at one time, but it had all been an illusion.
No more illusions for her. She went into things with her eyes wide open, not expecting more than she could be absolutely sure of.
“How long have you guys been seeing each other?” Jolie asked.
“We’re a casual couple,” Finn said solemnly. Molly almost choked before he added, “Which means we’re friends.”
“Testing the waters, so to speak?” Jolie asked. It was not an intrusive question.
“No, we’re just friends,” Molly said. The kind that held hands and made each other’s hearts beat just a little faster. She’d felt Finn’s heart rate ramp up when they’d kissed. “Better make sure Mike understands that,” Dylan said.
“At least if he were matchmaking, it would give him something other than Ms. Fitch to think about,” Jolie said softly. Molly’s eyes went wide at the mention of matchmaking, but the conversation immediately moved on to other Culver family matters—how to be there for Mike while he dealt with Elaine’s illness without being so obvious about it that he grew impatient with them; Jolie going back to work managing the store and how that would affect Lola; Dylan’s and Jolie’s roles in rebuilding the Lightning Creek Ranch after the fire. Molly sipped her beer and listened until Finn said that they hadn’t come to discuss family matters. They’d come to enjoy themselvesbeforefamily matters took over their lives.
“Hey, sorry for being boring,” Dylan said. “Finn didn’t ask you out to listen to us bitch, plot and plan.”
“I don’t mind,” she said honestly. It was nice seeing a family that was concerned about one another. And the beer was somehow acting as a filter, making everything clearer. Better.
She wasn’t drunk. Maybe slightly buzzed. Whatever her condition, it was pleasant to be out. Even more pleasant to put her hand in Finn’s without hesitation when the music started and Dylan and Jolie automatically headed for the dance floor.
“How do friends dance?” Finn asked as he settled his hands on her waist, keeping a good six inches of air between them.
Molly made a face at him. “Let’s go with the usual way. You know...actually touching? So we don’t look dumb?”
He pulled her closer, the length of their bodies now lightly pressed together. “Like this?”
“Uh...yes. This works.” At the very least, it felt good. Maybe too good as her legs pressed up against his muscular thighs and her breasts came up against his solid chest. “I’m glad we agreed to be friends.” The beer might have loosened her tongue a bit, but it was the truth.
“Why wouldn’t we be friends?” he asked, his voice rumbling seductively close to her ear.
“Uh...all the stuff that’s gone down between us?”
He leaned back to look into her face. “I guess there has been some...stuff.” He pulled her against him again, resting his cheek lightly on top of her head, and she felt him smile against her hair. “I like you anyway. And you kiss well.”
“Gee. Thanks.” The words came out drily and hopefully kept him from realizing that heat was now flooding her midsection. It was more than remembering the kiss; it was him. Having him hold her close, his hand moving over her back in a distinctly possessive way, making her want...more.
Was he doing this on purpose?
She tilted her head back to look up into his surprisingly dark eyes. “Are you doing this on purpose?
“Doing what?” he asked in a way that told her that he knew exactly what she was talking about.
