off balance mentally, but at least she could handle this conversation.
“Can you convince her of that?” Tate shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned in to her as they walked. “She thinks I’m just being nosy,” he admitted.
“Should it come up in conversation, I’ll do my best,” she promised.
The corner of her street, where she’d be able to turn right, finally appeared like an oasis in the desert. “This is my stop. Thanks for walking with me.” Please don’t let him be gentlemanly enough to walk me all the way home.
“My pleasure.”
She reached for the zipper of the hoodie. “Here. Let me give this back.”
Tate’s hand landed on hers lightly. “Keep it. You can return it later.”
The touch was brief and not at all inappropriate, but it gave her a jolt, and the warmth lingered even after he returned his hand to his pocket.
She needed to have her head examined. “Well, good night.”
“Good night, Molly.” There was a moment of awkwardness before Tate nodded at her and left, disappearing almost immediately into the shadows outside the streetlamps’ glow.
With Tate away, the tension dropped out of the air, but Molly was still left with a reservoir of tingly energy in her belly she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Because it would prove she was certifiably insane. She had no business getting those kinds of tingly feelings.
Once safely inside her house, with Nigel winding around her ankles, she stripped off Tate’s hoodie and dropped it into a chair.
She could still smell him, though.
But alone in her kitchen, she could at least think rationally. In the two-plus years she’d been in Magnolia Beach, she’d never looked at Tate as anything more than just another guy in town, and he’d certainly never given her the slightest reason to. Just because she’d suddenly discovered she still had a functioning—or mal functioning, depending on how she wanted to look atit—libido, nothing good could come from acting on this newly discovered information. This was all crazy and needed to be stuffed back into the box it came out of.
She had enough on her plate and plenty of worries on tap.
This was something she simply couldn’t contemplate.
Chapter 4
B y the next morning, Molly had it all straight in her head.
She’d spent some time reading last night, and all her books seemed to say that the feelings stirred up were good , however inconvenient they felt now. It simply meant that she was healing, and when the time was right, she’d be ready to find someone, start dating, and maybe even fall in love again.
That was a good thing.
The Children’s Fair might also be indirectly responsible, too. Being entrusted with a big job by people she respected—however scared she might be about that—was an ego boost, and her brain was just exploring that new confidence in different ways, one of them being the reawakening of her libido.
As for why her brain had picked Tate—well, that was explainable, too. Tate was genuinely nice, the complete opposite of Mark in everything from looks to personality. He was the good friend of a good friend and therefore trustworthy. He’d offered to help her in her time of need, and American culture had all but trained her to go all moony-eyed when Prince Charming rode up on a white horse to save the day.
It didn’t hurt that he was damn cute, too.
And a good-looking, kind, trustworthy man who was willing to help her out of a tight spot without first negotiating for something in return . . . Of course she’d be attracted to that. Who wouldn’t be? Tate was just lucky she hadn’t swooned into his arms last night from the shock.
She didn’t need to worry about her sanity. The wires might be crossed in her head, but that was okay. Now that she understood why she’d had that reaction last night, she could deal with it. It wasn’t completely Helena’s fault—although she was still to blame—and Molly didn’t need to worry about being around
“Can you convince her of that?” Tate shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned in to her as they walked. “She thinks I’m just being nosy,” he admitted.
“Should it come up in conversation, I’ll do my best,” she promised.
The corner of her street, where she’d be able to turn right, finally appeared like an oasis in the desert. “This is my stop. Thanks for walking with me.” Please don’t let him be gentlemanly enough to walk me all the way home.
“My pleasure.”
She reached for the zipper of the hoodie. “Here. Let me give this back.”
Tate’s hand landed on hers lightly. “Keep it. You can return it later.”
The touch was brief and not at all inappropriate, but it gave her a jolt, and the warmth lingered even after he returned his hand to his pocket.
She needed to have her head examined. “Well, good night.”
“Good night, Molly.” There was a moment of awkwardness before Tate nodded at her and left, disappearing almost immediately into the shadows outside the streetlamps’ glow.
With Tate away, the tension dropped out of the air, but Molly was still left with a reservoir of tingly energy in her belly she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Because it would prove she was certifiably insane. She had no business getting those kinds of tingly feelings.
Once safely inside her house, with Nigel winding around her ankles, she stripped off Tate’s hoodie and dropped it into a chair.
She could still smell him, though.
But alone in her kitchen, she could at least think rationally. In the two-plus years she’d been in Magnolia Beach, she’d never looked at Tate as anything more than just another guy in town, and he’d certainly never given her the slightest reason to. Just because she’d suddenly discovered she still had a functioning—or mal functioning, depending on how she wanted to look atit—libido, nothing good could come from acting on this newly discovered information. This was all crazy and needed to be stuffed back into the box it came out of.
She had enough on her plate and plenty of worries on tap.
This was something she simply couldn’t contemplate.
Chapter 4
B y the next morning, Molly had it all straight in her head.
She’d spent some time reading last night, and all her books seemed to say that the feelings stirred up were good , however inconvenient they felt now. It simply meant that she was healing, and when the time was right, she’d be ready to find someone, start dating, and maybe even fall in love again.
That was a good thing.
The Children’s Fair might also be indirectly responsible, too. Being entrusted with a big job by people she respected—however scared she might be about that—was an ego boost, and her brain was just exploring that new confidence in different ways, one of them being the reawakening of her libido.
As for why her brain had picked Tate—well, that was explainable, too. Tate was genuinely nice, the complete opposite of Mark in everything from looks to personality. He was the good friend of a good friend and therefore trustworthy. He’d offered to help her in her time of need, and American culture had all but trained her to go all moony-eyed when Prince Charming rode up on a white horse to save the day.
It didn’t hurt that he was damn cute, too.
And a good-looking, kind, trustworthy man who was willing to help her out of a tight spot without first negotiating for something in return . . . Of course she’d be attracted to that. Who wouldn’t be? Tate was just lucky she hadn’t swooned into his arms last night from the shock.
She didn’t need to worry about her sanity. The wires might be crossed in her head, but that was okay. Now that she understood why she’d had that reaction last night, she could deal with it. It wasn’t completely Helena’s fault—although she was still to blame—and Molly didn’t need to worry about being around
Similar Books
