as he studied Eric.
Eric resisted the urge to squirm beneath the older man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he’d done that morning. It had been childish, and he hadn’t often acted like a child since his parents had died.
“The cleanup’s almost done. You need to get Molly…wherever Molly’s staying.” Pop turned toward her. “Are you going home, honey?”
She shook her head. “I need some time alone to think.”
Eric resisted the urge to snort in derision. Despite Molly’s claim to want time alone, she’d insisted on crashing her own wedding reception.
The older man patted her shoulder, far more gently than he had Eric’s. “You’ll figure things out, honey. You’re a smart girl.”
The door had barely closed behind Pop’s back, before Molly erupted in laughter.
“What?”
She gestured at her dress and hair, which were filthy from her Dumpster dive. “He thinks I’m smart?”
“You are—”
“I’m crazy. I climbed out not one but two windows today. I just swam around in what’s left of my wedding-reception buffet. I’ve totally lost it, Eric.”
Her eyes bright with humor, she’d never been more beautiful to him. She wasn’t the only one who’d lost it.
S OFT HAIR DRIFTED over Eric’s face as he lay back on a lounge on the deck off the kitchen. He dragged in a deep breath that was scented with strawberries and champagne. What a dream…
“Do I still smell like garbage?”
Molly’s voice jolted him back from where his mind had drifted, when he’d allowed himself to focus on the mental image of her in his shower, standing naked under the pulsating spray—her hands lathering soap all over her body as she washed every inch of silky skin….
“Eric? Are you sleeping?” she asked, dropping onto the edge of the wide chair. Her hip bumped his thigh, and every muscle in his body tensed with desire.
“I could have fallen asleep. You were in there long enough….” Torturing him with the images her showering had conjured in his mind.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” she said. “I don’t expect you to entertain me while I’m here.”
“What do you expect from me?” He asked the question that had been torturing him as much as her naked image.
She lifted her legs, bare but for the boxer shorts that barely reached midthigh, and stretched out beside him, tight against his side. “Just you, Eric. That’s all I expect from you.”
Friendship. That was all she had ever wanted from him. He sighed and lifted his arm, curving it around her bare shoulders. Her head settled onto his chest, her hair brushing his chin. “No.”
Molly’s face tilted toward his. “No?”
“You don’t smell like garbage anymore.” A grin teased his lips. “But if trouble had a smell…”
“I’m sorry.”
He caught her chin in his free hand. “What did I tell you about that? No more apologizing.”
“But I dragged you to the reception, after making you get all dressed up.”
He sighed. “I’m used to it. You used to do that when we were kids—make us get all dolled up to act out some play you’d read.”
“And Brenna would be the director.” Her breath hitched. “Do you think she’s very mad at me?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t say what he really thought about Brenna—that she was falling in love with Molly’s ex-fiancé. Although Towers wasn’t actually Molly’s ex yet. They hadn’t officially broken up; Molly still wore his engagement ring.
Hell, maybe Eric had only imagined the attraction between Brenna and Towers. The doctor had probably actually attended the reception in the hope that Molly would show up there.
Eric’s arm tensed. While he’d been in the service he had seen too many guys lose the loves of their lives to other, more available men. Eric had vowed then never to be either man in that equation—not the one left by the woman or the one stealing the woman.
“It’s late. We should head off to bed,” Eric
Eric resisted the urge to squirm beneath the older man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he’d done that morning. It had been childish, and he hadn’t often acted like a child since his parents had died.
“The cleanup’s almost done. You need to get Molly…wherever Molly’s staying.” Pop turned toward her. “Are you going home, honey?”
She shook her head. “I need some time alone to think.”
Eric resisted the urge to snort in derision. Despite Molly’s claim to want time alone, she’d insisted on crashing her own wedding reception.
The older man patted her shoulder, far more gently than he had Eric’s. “You’ll figure things out, honey. You’re a smart girl.”
The door had barely closed behind Pop’s back, before Molly erupted in laughter.
“What?”
She gestured at her dress and hair, which were filthy from her Dumpster dive. “He thinks I’m smart?”
“You are—”
“I’m crazy. I climbed out not one but two windows today. I just swam around in what’s left of my wedding-reception buffet. I’ve totally lost it, Eric.”
Her eyes bright with humor, she’d never been more beautiful to him. She wasn’t the only one who’d lost it.
S OFT HAIR DRIFTED over Eric’s face as he lay back on a lounge on the deck off the kitchen. He dragged in a deep breath that was scented with strawberries and champagne. What a dream…
“Do I still smell like garbage?”
Molly’s voice jolted him back from where his mind had drifted, when he’d allowed himself to focus on the mental image of her in his shower, standing naked under the pulsating spray—her hands lathering soap all over her body as she washed every inch of silky skin….
“Eric? Are you sleeping?” she asked, dropping onto the edge of the wide chair. Her hip bumped his thigh, and every muscle in his body tensed with desire.
“I could have fallen asleep. You were in there long enough….” Torturing him with the images her showering had conjured in his mind.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” she said. “I don’t expect you to entertain me while I’m here.”
“What do you expect from me?” He asked the question that had been torturing him as much as her naked image.
She lifted her legs, bare but for the boxer shorts that barely reached midthigh, and stretched out beside him, tight against his side. “Just you, Eric. That’s all I expect from you.”
Friendship. That was all she had ever wanted from him. He sighed and lifted his arm, curving it around her bare shoulders. Her head settled onto his chest, her hair brushing his chin. “No.”
Molly’s face tilted toward his. “No?”
“You don’t smell like garbage anymore.” A grin teased his lips. “But if trouble had a smell…”
“I’m sorry.”
He caught her chin in his free hand. “What did I tell you about that? No more apologizing.”
“But I dragged you to the reception, after making you get all dressed up.”
He sighed. “I’m used to it. You used to do that when we were kids—make us get all dolled up to act out some play you’d read.”
“And Brenna would be the director.” Her breath hitched. “Do you think she’s very mad at me?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t say what he really thought about Brenna—that she was falling in love with Molly’s ex-fiancé. Although Towers wasn’t actually Molly’s ex yet. They hadn’t officially broken up; Molly still wore his engagement ring.
Hell, maybe Eric had only imagined the attraction between Brenna and Towers. The doctor had probably actually attended the reception in the hope that Molly would show up there.
Eric’s arm tensed. While he’d been in the service he had seen too many guys lose the loves of their lives to other, more available men. Eric had vowed then never to be either man in that equation—not the one left by the woman or the one stealing the woman.
“It’s late. We should head off to bed,” Eric
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