Molly.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to hold her breath as she put her hand in his and climbed up the side. She was just about to vault over the top when the door opened again. Tugging her hand free of Pop’s, she dropped back inside the metal container, crunching cardboard and tinfoil beneath her once more.
“I thought that was you,” Pop said to someone as he slapped him on the back.
“Pop,” Eric acknowledged the other man with warmth and the easy familiarity of long acquaintance. “Wh-what are you doing out here?”
“Me?” The older man chuckled. “I’m getting a raccoon out of the Dumpster.”
“Ra-raccoon?” Eric stammered. “Uh, why don’t you let me handle that for you.”
“Thought you wanted nothing to do with this wedding, son?” the older man teased.
“Pop—”
The old man slapped his hand against Eric’s shoulder this time. “Don’t worry. I know why you’re here.”
That made one of them. Eric still had no definite idea why Molly had wanted to crash her own wedding.
Molly’s head popped over the edge of the Dumpster, and she extended a hand toward him. “He knows I’m in here,” she said. “He covered for me with Brenna and Josh.”
Eric closed his hand around hers and pulled her onto the edge of the trash container. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down onto the asphalt. Even with her clothes rumpled and coated with garbage, she was gorgeous—especially since she’d lost the god-awful hat, so that her chocolate-colored curls were free to frame her heart-shaped face.
“You okay?” he asked, his stomach still clenched with the horror that had overcome him as she’d dropped out of the bathroom window. He hadn’t been that scared since the Middle East.
She nodded, dislodging a broccoli floret from her tangled curls. “I’m fine.”
“How the heck did you wind up in there, girl?” Pop asked, shaking his head in bemusement.
Eric began to answer for her. “She was in the men’s—” until a small elbow jammed into his side.
“I was hiding.”
“I think you could have found a better place,” the older man commented, green eyes alight with amusement.
Molly wiped a streak of gravy from her arm. “Definitely. But I think it worked. I don’t think Josh and Brenna saw me.”
Pop shook his head, his hair all black but for a shock of white falling across his forehead. “You’re lucky Brenna didn’t climb inside to take care of the ‘raccoon’ herself,” he said, with pride in his daughter.
“Pop,” Molly implored the older man, “you won’t tell anyone that you saw us?”
“That’s your secret to keep or share,” he said. “I trust you have your reasons for everything you’re doing?”
Teeth gnawing her bottom lip, she nodded.
“I’ve known you since you were in diapers, Molly McClintock,” he said. “I know you’d never purposely do anything that would hurt another person.”
“She wouldn’t,” Eric agreed.
Pop flashed him a grin and patted his arm. “If you had any doubts, girl, you did the right thing by not marrying your doctor.”
“Some people don’t belong together,” she said by way of explanation.
Pop’s grin widened as he considered the two of them. “And some people do.”
“Do you need help cleaning up?” Molly asked Mr. Kelly, as if anxious to change the subject. “We can help you.”
He shook his head. “It’s under control, honey. Most of the guests have left, but there are enough still here that your secret will be out if you go back inside. Especially since Mrs. Hild is hanging on. You know that old busybody can’t keep a secret to save her life or anyone else’s.” While he chortled at his joke, Molly gasped.
“You’re sure, Pop?” Eric asked.
“You know old Rosie Hild…”
“No, about cleaning up,” Eric explained. “You’re sure you’ve got it?”
“Of course. You did enough this morning, helping me load the cake into the van.” His bright eyes narrowed
“Thank you,” she said, trying to hold her breath as she put her hand in his and climbed up the side. She was just about to vault over the top when the door opened again. Tugging her hand free of Pop’s, she dropped back inside the metal container, crunching cardboard and tinfoil beneath her once more.
“I thought that was you,” Pop said to someone as he slapped him on the back.
“Pop,” Eric acknowledged the other man with warmth and the easy familiarity of long acquaintance. “Wh-what are you doing out here?”
“Me?” The older man chuckled. “I’m getting a raccoon out of the Dumpster.”
“Ra-raccoon?” Eric stammered. “Uh, why don’t you let me handle that for you.”
“Thought you wanted nothing to do with this wedding, son?” the older man teased.
“Pop—”
The old man slapped his hand against Eric’s shoulder this time. “Don’t worry. I know why you’re here.”
That made one of them. Eric still had no definite idea why Molly had wanted to crash her own wedding.
Molly’s head popped over the edge of the Dumpster, and she extended a hand toward him. “He knows I’m in here,” she said. “He covered for me with Brenna and Josh.”
Eric closed his hand around hers and pulled her onto the edge of the trash container. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down onto the asphalt. Even with her clothes rumpled and coated with garbage, she was gorgeous—especially since she’d lost the god-awful hat, so that her chocolate-colored curls were free to frame her heart-shaped face.
“You okay?” he asked, his stomach still clenched with the horror that had overcome him as she’d dropped out of the bathroom window. He hadn’t been that scared since the Middle East.
She nodded, dislodging a broccoli floret from her tangled curls. “I’m fine.”
“How the heck did you wind up in there, girl?” Pop asked, shaking his head in bemusement.
Eric began to answer for her. “She was in the men’s—” until a small elbow jammed into his side.
“I was hiding.”
“I think you could have found a better place,” the older man commented, green eyes alight with amusement.
Molly wiped a streak of gravy from her arm. “Definitely. But I think it worked. I don’t think Josh and Brenna saw me.”
Pop shook his head, his hair all black but for a shock of white falling across his forehead. “You’re lucky Brenna didn’t climb inside to take care of the ‘raccoon’ herself,” he said, with pride in his daughter.
“Pop,” Molly implored the older man, “you won’t tell anyone that you saw us?”
“That’s your secret to keep or share,” he said. “I trust you have your reasons for everything you’re doing?”
Teeth gnawing her bottom lip, she nodded.
“I’ve known you since you were in diapers, Molly McClintock,” he said. “I know you’d never purposely do anything that would hurt another person.”
“She wouldn’t,” Eric agreed.
Pop flashed him a grin and patted his arm. “If you had any doubts, girl, you did the right thing by not marrying your doctor.”
“Some people don’t belong together,” she said by way of explanation.
Pop’s grin widened as he considered the two of them. “And some people do.”
“Do you need help cleaning up?” Molly asked Mr. Kelly, as if anxious to change the subject. “We can help you.”
He shook his head. “It’s under control, honey. Most of the guests have left, but there are enough still here that your secret will be out if you go back inside. Especially since Mrs. Hild is hanging on. You know that old busybody can’t keep a secret to save her life or anyone else’s.” While he chortled at his joke, Molly gasped.
“You’re sure, Pop?” Eric asked.
“You know old Rosie Hild…”
“No, about cleaning up,” Eric explained. “You’re sure you’ve got it?”
“Of course. You did enough this morning, helping me load the cake into the van.” His bright eyes narrowed
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