The Best Man (Chesapeake Shores Book 2) Page 14

  It buzzes again, and I look at it. So sue me. I figure it could be my sister. Or Simon. Or maybe her dad with an urgent soccer message. Or maybe Stella needing bail money.

  The message on the screen is from Uncle Barry, and he wants to know if Molly’s still friends with that girl who dates a plumber. Apparently, his daughter’s new place has a leak.

  I hold the phone for a second, then finish off my granola bar. Before I think too much about it, I tap out a message to Uncle Barry and then head back to the bedroom for my own phone.

  About twenty minutes later, the front door opens, and Stella walks inside. She takes one look at me and smiles.

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve come home to find a shirtless man in my dining room, but I’ll admit it’s been awhile.”

  “Good morning, Stella. I’ll grab a tee shirt.”

  “Don’t bother on my account, darling. Where’s my Molly?”

  “She had to run her little sister to soccer and then she was grabbing bagels.”

  Stella helps herself to a cup of tea and sits down next to me. “And what are you up to, dear? Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. And, uh,” I clear my throat. “I’m just working my way through Molly’s two do list.”

  “Thank God,” she says, and I know she’s on my side. There’s a chance Molly will be pissed at me for meddling, and I’m willing to deal with that. But I’m happier knowing Stella’s in my corner.

  I smile. “She left her phone and her to-do list here, so…”

  “So what?” Molly asks, and I am impressed by her stealth—I didn’t even hear her come in.

  “You left your phone here.”

  “I know. I realized that after I ferried Lily from church to soccer and was standing in line at the bagel shop. Ugh. I could have gotten a ton done, too. That line was out the door.”

  Setting the bags down in the kitchen, she unloads them and starts filling plates. I rise to help her, belatedly realizing I’m still wearing just my boxers. I can feel Stella ogling, and Molly laughs, tossing me the sweatshirt she wore out. I toss it back—my gal’s tall, but that sweatshirt still won’t cover the goods.

  “So, what were you up to while I was out? Because, clearly, it didn’t involve putting on clothes, not that Stella and I are complaining.”

  I’m a smart enough man to know that this could go either way. And I’m hungry enough not to put my breakfast in jeopardy of being thrown in the trash, so I walk back into the dining room and have a seat. Molly joins me.

  “You look guilty.”

  “That’s because I am.” I hand over her phone and her To-Do list, on which only one item remains unchecked.

  “You left, and I saw your list, and your phone kept buzzing, so I decided to tackle what was left. I’m just waiting to hear back from Ava. I know you said that Winn and Ava aren’t related to your Uncle Ed, but they only live a few blocks away, so she’s getting her brother’s ass up and out of bed.”

  Molly just stares at me.

  “You finished my To-Do list?”

  “I did. Well, I’m just waiting on Winn, but I have no doubt Ava will whoop his ass into shape,” I say, before taking a bite of bagel. I’m damn near starving, at this point.

  “It really is her life’s purpose. But back to you and my list.”

  “Yea. Look, if you see it as an invasion of privacy, I apologize. I didn’t intend that at all. And, to be clear, I didn’t do it because you couldn’t, just so you didn’t have to. And I didn’t do it to free up your day, so you could spend it with me, though you certainly can. I did it to give you a day to do whatever you want. You don’t need to plan my sister’s wedding or mow your great uncle’s grass or babysit your cousin’s toddler.”

  Her silence unnerves me, so I brace myself to get slapped across the face. Instead, I get my woman leaping into my lap. “Are you done with your breakfast?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I answer. I’m not done with my breakfast, but I’m also not a fool.

  I hear Stella say something about getting picked up for BINGO, but I don’t pay much attention. She’s an adult who can handle her own schedule.

  And so can Molly.

  Lucky for me, it’s clear today.

  The smell of fried food hits me as I walk into Trick’s and settle in at the bar next to Nick. Seconds later, the bartender, owner, and namesake, Patrick Cavanaugh, delivers our wings and beers. We’re predictable and low-maintenance customers. And long-time friends of Trick and his cousin Nolan.

  “Thanks for ordering for us.” I say to Nick.

  “Thanks for being late,” he jokes. “I’m guessing you were making out with your man in the parking lot and lost track of time.”

  “Haha.” I roll my eyes. “I’m less than five minutes late.”

  “Not my fault your guy doesn’t have stamina.”

  I swat him on the arm. “Shut up. You like Ev. And—”

  “Woah, woah, woah.” Trick slides back down to our end of the bar. “Molls, did I just hear this asshole right? You have a guy?”

  Before I can even answer, Trick just keeps talking.

  “Nolan, get out here,” he calls to his cousin, the cook. And, surprisingly, Nolan walks out from the kitchen. He’s a total sweetheart. We went to high school together. He’s one of the nicest guys I know, but he’s painfully shy. It’s one of the reasons he stays back in the kitchen, while Trick mans the front.

  “Hey, Molly, Nick.”

  “Hey, Nolan. How’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain. You guys just here for wings? I’ve got a killer crab cake sandwich tonight, too.”

  “Yea, yea, you’re a magician in the kitchen. They both need sandwiches with fresh cut fries.” Trick prattles on. “But the actual reason I called you out here is because Molly has a new guy.”

  Nolan looks around. “Where are you keepin him, Molls?”

  “He’s not here yet. He’s at the gym with Gavin. And also, he’s not really my guy.”

  “Bullshit.” Nick coughs.

  “Ok, we’re together, but we’re not in a relationship,“ I amend.

  “Uh huh. Interesting to know that you have the same philosophy on relationships as a nineteen-year-old college freshman…” Trick observes.

  “Inaccurate,” I say, and take a sip of beer. “I’ve been burned by bad relationships before, as you guys know. So, I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Also inaccurate,” Nolan pipes up. “Not trying to be a dick, Molly, but you always date assholes.”

  “Which is why we want to meet this guy. To rate how much of an asshole he is.”

  “Weird. Because you two don’t look like my parents, and yet…”

  “We love you, Molls. We’re the brothers you never asked for.” Trick smiles.

  “And, unlike your parents, we won’t make you do tons of shit for us,” Nick mumbles, but I hear it.

  “Yea, well...about that...I forgot my phone yesterday morning, so Ev found my to-do list and checked off every item before I made it back home with bagels. He hired a plumber, a babysitter, and a dog-walking service for my various relatives, all before noon on a Sunday.”

  Trick still looks skeptical. “Ok, so the man can check items off a list. Good news. But it doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole.”

  “True, but he’s actually not,” Nick admits.

  That’s apparently good enough for Nolan, who makes his way back into the kitchen. But Trick needs more convincing.

  “You’ve met him, Nicky?”

  “Yea, and he’s a good guy. He’s actually Elaine’s brother, so we can easily track him down if he tries to cross state lines with her purse.”

  “Oh, my God. You guys are never going to let that go, are you?”

  “Hell no! What was that fucker’s name?”

  “Kyle,” Nick supplies.

  “Yeah, fucking Kyle. I knew that guy was a tool the first time you brought him in here.” Trick shakes his head.

  “He was an ass,�
�� I agree. “Still, I never thought he’d steal from me.”

  “That’s why you need to bring these guys in, so we can grill them,” Trick explains.

  “Good job. I brought Kyle here and look how that turned out.”

  “That’s before I knew how truly awful your taste in men is. Now, I know we need to run background checks on every guy you date.”

  “Ugh.”

  “C’mon, Molls, you know you love us.” Nick smiles.

  And I do love them. They’re the best guys I know. The issue is that I’m feeling a certain type of way about Ev these days, and I need to shut that shit down before it gets out of hand. If I don’t, it’s just going to end badly—all of my relationships do. And my parents’ relationship track records are pretty terrible, too. It must be in the genes.

  “More power to you, man,” I say to Gav, as he hops on the treadmill. We’ve been at his gym for an hour and half and sweat is dripping off me. I’m heading for the showers, but he’s still at it.

  He smiles and nods. “See you Wednesday?”

  “Sounds good.” And it does. I definitely need to get back into a regular workout routine, although the quality workout time I’ve been indulging in with Molly has been pretty spectacular. What’s also spectacular is Stella and Molly’s cooking, so I need to make sure I keep some kind of fitness discipline while I’m here in Maryland.

  After I shower and dress—in my new jeans and t-shirt, thank you very much—I take a minute to check my messages. I have a few work emails, and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for passing those along to Nate. He’s been reveling in the responsibilities I’ve been throwing his way. There’s an email from Jason, my lawyer, so I take a moment to read it over.

  Ev,

  Just wanted to touch base and let you know that the lakefront property you and Victoria jointly own has been listed on the market, as we agreed at the settlement meeting. I spoke with the realtor, and there will be a showing this week. I’m hoping that’s successful, so we can get this last detail squared away.

  I’ll keep you updated.

  Jason

  At the advice of our lawyers, we held off on selling the lake house when we divorced. Property values were low in the area at that time, but a resort was built nearby, and now, it’s a hot spot. I’m glad to know the place is on the market, and I have no doubt it will sell quickly and profitably.

  I shoot back a quick response, thanking him for the update and asking about his family. Then, I file the email in the divorce folder, pocket my phone, and walk out to my car.

  It’s funny. A few months ago, the mere mention of my ex-wife or our divorce would have me stewing. I was all too happy to dwell on the ways she screwed me over. But now, she’s not even a blip on my radar.

  This is what it feels like to move forward, I guess. And I know, without a doubt, that’s because of Molly. I know she’s not looking for anything long-term or permanent, but maybe, like mine, her feelings have changed. All I know is that I can’t imagine a future without her in it.

  The sun is setting in the Dallas skyline as we leave the airport. The flight took just over two hours, but I barely noticed the time. When she wasn’t napping, Molly was regaling me with stories of her coworkers at Chesapeake Shores. That place is insane, if her tales are anything to go by. I’m used to the cut-throat, back-stabbing world of finance, but even I would never hide a microwave from a guy, just because he kept reheating his tuna casserole in it.

  The plan is to check into our room and freshen up, before attending the cocktail hour in one of the hotel restaurants. What is not in the plan is detouring to a restroom or a supply closet to fuck my girlfriend from behind. But it is tempting.

  As though she can read my mind, Molly gives me a look and says, “No way. No matter how gorgeous you are, I am not getting arrested for exposing myself in an airport bathroom.”

  I barely open my mouth to respond, but she’s onto my tricks.

  “Don’t even start. Mahady’s is a dive bar, and it wasn’t tourist season. And the door had locks. The Dallas-Fort Worth Airport is a totally different scenario.”

  “I’ll show you a different scenario,” I quip.

  “Yea, back at the hotel.”

  I sigh, knowing she’s right, and follow her to baggage claim, where I scoop up her giant-ass suitcase. My girl makes no apologies for being a heavy packer. She makes no apologies for anything, really. She lives life balls to the wall, and it’s one of the things I love about her.

  Yep. Love.

  There’s no denying it, even if she’s not quite ready to hear it. I refuse to lie to myself or hide the way I feel. That doesn’t mean I’m planning some huge declaration, at least, not just yet. Molly is slowly warming up to me. Gone are the days where she was constantly reminding me that we’re friends with benefits. We hold hands in public, and she kisses me when the mood hits her. I think she’s finally starting to see that I’m different from the losers she used to date.

  “OMG, you didn’t.”

  “I did.” I smile as she vibrates with excitement, as the clerk hands her the keys to the Mercedes I rented. She loves fast cars, and that’s an easy way to please her. I have about a hundred other ideas on how to please her, but those will have to wait until after the reception at the hotel. Our flight landed at 8, and the cocktail hour begins at 9, so we don’t have time to spare.

  “Alright, Speedracer, let’s get to the hotel. Nate’s already there, and he checked us in, so we can swing by the desk and take the elevator straight up to our room.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “That’s why you keep me around.”

  “One of the many reasons, yes.” She throws me a flirty look, as I load our bags into the trunk.

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Gorgeous,” I warn.

  “Later, handsome, I promise. I took a nap on the plane, and I’m ready to mix and mingle. But after a few hours of schmoozing, I’ll just be ready for you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I smile, as she peels out of the parking lot. The look on the attendant’s face is priceless.

  I’m not remotely surprised that with only fifteen minutes to get ready, Molly is looking as gorgeous as ever.

  She’s wearing a black dress, and though I’m not a fashion expert, it’s no typical black dress. Or maybe it’s just Molly who’s not typical. The dress does that heart thing around her boobs, nips in at her waist, and then hugs her hips and falls a few inches from her knees. And if that wasn’t enough to get my blood pumping, the back is barely-there. She’s killing me, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

  She steps into strappy shoes that bring her nearly eye-to-eye with me. Damn. There’s just something about a tall, curvy woman that does it for me, though, admittedly, my ex-wife did not fit that mold. If someone dared to call her curvy, she’d have their country club membership revoked.

  I shake my head, both in wonder at the beautiful woman next to me and as a way to rid my ex-wife from my thoughts. If my luck keeps up, I’ll never have to see her again. And even that might be too soon.

  The welcome reception is in full swing when we arrive. My company’s annual conference happens to coincide with a client meeting I have, so I could hardly beg off the reception, even though I wanted to. My heart’s just not in it lately, but I don’t want to stop and examine what that means right now. Instead, I’ll focus on my beautiful date. Molly and I make the rounds, and I introduce her to the Senior Vice Presidents and their spouses. Catching my assistant’s eye, I wave him over.

  “Hey, Nate,” I say, as we shake hands. “You remember Molly from the coffee shop?” My hand wraps around her and rests at her waist.

  “How could I forget?” They exchange a brief hug, and Nate smiles, then looks me up and down. “I see you’ve ditched the Bengal cat sweatshirt in favor of a suit, Ev. Must have been a tough choice.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks again for getting us checked in and leaving a key at the desk for us—saved a to
n of time, and I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Did you guys have a good flight?”

  “Yes. Well, I guess we did.” Molly smiles. “I slept for most of it, so I’m calling that a win.”

  “She slept; I worked. Did you get that email I forwarded you from Peretti?”

  “Yea...I’m guessing you haven’t seen him yet?”

  “No, but it’s inevitable at an event like this. Is it too much to hope his flight was delayed?”

  Nate gives me a wry smile and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. Isn’t that the universal signal for bad news?

  “His flight was definitely on time. He and his date arrived around the same time I did.”

  “His date? I didn’t know Peretti was seeing anyone.” Although, that’s a bit unfair of me, I guess. I haven’t shouted my own relationship status from the rooftops, but that’s probably only because it would throw Molly into a panic.

  “Have you guys had a chance to get a drink yet? Molly, what can I get you?”

  “Oh, champagne and Chambord, please. I could go for something sweet.”

  “And bourbon on the rocks for you, Ev—”

  “What are you not telling me, Nate?”

  “It’ll keep a minute. And it’ll go down better with a drink in your hand,” he assures me and strides toward the bar.

  I turn toward Molly to comment on Nate’s odd behavior, but that’s when I spot Joel and his date.

  Molly must feel me tense up, because she leans up on her tiptoes and whispers, “Who’s the douche in the corner staring daggers at you? And should someone get his date a sandwich? Girlfriend looks hangry.”

  And damn it all, I laugh. I tighten my grip on her waist and hold her close as a year’s worth of frustration bubbles out of me, leaving me impossibly lighter than I was just a few minutes ago.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m a laugh riot, but my sandwich joke wasn’t that funny, Ev. What has you cracking up?”