She gave her name to the hostess when they got inside.
The woman smiled at her. “Delia said you’d be coming. Head on up to the bar.”
“Thanks,” Molly said.
They got a table and a waitress came by.
“Drinks only, or do you want food as well?” the woman asked.
“We’re starving,” Carter said, so the waitress produced a menu.
They ordered and the waitress dashed off.
“It helps to know music people, doesn’t it?” Carter asked.
The seats they’d gotten were good. Not so far up front that they’d be blasted by the music and not be able to hear themselves think. Delia knew where to seat them. “I guess so. Delia’s a pretty great boss. I’ll miss working with her.”
The music was outstanding as well, and the food was great. Molly had to admit this was much better than grabbing fast food and hiding out in the apartment the rest of the night.
Carter seemed to enjoy the music, relaxing after he’d consumed his ribs and getting into the band that was playing. Since he wasn’t focused entirely on her, she could watch him, the way the corners of his mouth tilted up when he smiled, the easy way he sat back in his chair. He always seemed so comfortable in his own skin, so at ease no matter the situation.
While she was profoundly uncomfortable—especially around him.
She was going to have to get over it.
He finally shifted his gaze toward her, giving her a smile that rocked her all the way to her toes. It wasn’t a heated smile, just an enjoying-the-band-together kind of thing. Yet to Molly, the connection between them was still there, and it disturbed her greatly.
She’d really let him have it the night of the wedding, pouring out her anguish and anger. She’d all but slapped him and told him she hated him.
Yet here he was. He’d driven her all the way down here and hadn’t expected an apology. And now he was relaxed and smiling.
What kind of guy did that? Most men would have shut her out of their lives completely, left her sitting on the side of the road to fend for herself.
Not Carter though. Yes, he’d dropped the ball all those years ago, but they’d both been so young. Was she wrong to still blame him for that when there were so many other honorable things about him?
“Are you enjoying the band?” he asked over the loud music.
She nodded. “Yes. They’re great.”
He grinned. “I’m glad we decided to go out.”
“Me, too.”
He turned away to watch the band again, giving her more time to watch him.
She didn’t want to still be attracted to him. She wanted to feel nothing at all for him. Yet, after all these years, there it was. The smoking-hot chemistry she’d felt for him when she was fifteen still lingered. Despite all the baggage and trauma she’d suffered because of her relationship with Carter, the bottom line was, she was still attracted to him and there was no point denying it.
When the band took a break, she stood. “It’s getting kind of late, and we have a long drive tomorrow.”
He looked up at her. “Are you tired?”
“Kind of.” She wasn’t tired at all. She was keyed up, confused, all too aware of Carter, and she wanted to go hide in her bedroom.
“Sure. We can leave.” He got up and she grabbed her jacket. Carter was right there to hold it for her so she could slip her arms into it.
Why couldn’t he be a giant douchebag? Why couldn’t he have turned into some arrogant ass she couldn’t stand? Instead, he was courteous and nice and, if it was at all possible, he’d become even better-looking with the passage of time.
So unfair.
He drove them back to her apartment. “I’ll wait while you use the bathroom first.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She went in and washed her face and brushed her teeth, then came out. Carter had a book in his lap and was lounging on the sofa. She went into the bedroom and grabbed a pillow and blanket.
“Here you go.”
He took it from her, and their fingers brushed, sending lightning strikes to every part of her. She quickly pulled her hand away, but she could tell from the look he gave her that he must have felt it, too.
“Molly . . .”
“Good night, Carter.”
He gave her a long look before nodding. “Night.”
She went into her bedroom and shut the door, pondered locking it, but then realized how ridiculous that would be. He wouldn’t come in. She took off her clothes and got into bed, staring up at the ceiling in her darkened room.
For some stupid reason, she wanted to go out there and talk to him. But about what? What could they possibly have to say to each other? It would only lead to more pain on her part. She was already in enough emotional trouble just being near him.
By tomorrow she’d be firmly planted in her parents’ house and she’d only have to deal with Carter at the committee meetings. It was minimal contact.
She could deal with that.
Right?
CARTER BRUSHED HIS teeth, then lay on the couch, leaving the small lamp lit so he could read. He sure as hell wasn’t tired, not with Molly’s scent filling the air around him.
He thought they’d had a good time tonight, but she was still tense around him. He didn’t know what to do about that, other than let her get used to him. He knew she was uncomfortable, that being with him brought old memories back to the surface. He couldn’t change the past. Neither of them could change what was.
The woman smiled at her. “Delia said you’d be coming. Head on up to the bar.”
“Thanks,” Molly said.
They got a table and a waitress came by.
“Drinks only, or do you want food as well?” the woman asked.
“We’re starving,” Carter said, so the waitress produced a menu.
They ordered and the waitress dashed off.
“It helps to know music people, doesn’t it?” Carter asked.
The seats they’d gotten were good. Not so far up front that they’d be blasted by the music and not be able to hear themselves think. Delia knew where to seat them. “I guess so. Delia’s a pretty great boss. I’ll miss working with her.”
The music was outstanding as well, and the food was great. Molly had to admit this was much better than grabbing fast food and hiding out in the apartment the rest of the night.
Carter seemed to enjoy the music, relaxing after he’d consumed his ribs and getting into the band that was playing. Since he wasn’t focused entirely on her, she could watch him, the way the corners of his mouth tilted up when he smiled, the easy way he sat back in his chair. He always seemed so comfortable in his own skin, so at ease no matter the situation.
While she was profoundly uncomfortable—especially around him.
She was going to have to get over it.
He finally shifted his gaze toward her, giving her a smile that rocked her all the way to her toes. It wasn’t a heated smile, just an enjoying-the-band-together kind of thing. Yet to Molly, the connection between them was still there, and it disturbed her greatly.
She’d really let him have it the night of the wedding, pouring out her anguish and anger. She’d all but slapped him and told him she hated him.
Yet here he was. He’d driven her all the way down here and hadn’t expected an apology. And now he was relaxed and smiling.
What kind of guy did that? Most men would have shut her out of their lives completely, left her sitting on the side of the road to fend for herself.
Not Carter though. Yes, he’d dropped the ball all those years ago, but they’d both been so young. Was she wrong to still blame him for that when there were so many other honorable things about him?
“Are you enjoying the band?” he asked over the loud music.
She nodded. “Yes. They’re great.”
He grinned. “I’m glad we decided to go out.”
“Me, too.”
He turned away to watch the band again, giving her more time to watch him.
She didn’t want to still be attracted to him. She wanted to feel nothing at all for him. Yet, after all these years, there it was. The smoking-hot chemistry she’d felt for him when she was fifteen still lingered. Despite all the baggage and trauma she’d suffered because of her relationship with Carter, the bottom line was, she was still attracted to him and there was no point denying it.
When the band took a break, she stood. “It’s getting kind of late, and we have a long drive tomorrow.”
He looked up at her. “Are you tired?”
“Kind of.” She wasn’t tired at all. She was keyed up, confused, all too aware of Carter, and she wanted to go hide in her bedroom.
“Sure. We can leave.” He got up and she grabbed her jacket. Carter was right there to hold it for her so she could slip her arms into it.
Why couldn’t he be a giant douchebag? Why couldn’t he have turned into some arrogant ass she couldn’t stand? Instead, he was courteous and nice and, if it was at all possible, he’d become even better-looking with the passage of time.
So unfair.
He drove them back to her apartment. “I’ll wait while you use the bathroom first.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She went in and washed her face and brushed her teeth, then came out. Carter had a book in his lap and was lounging on the sofa. She went into the bedroom and grabbed a pillow and blanket.
“Here you go.”
He took it from her, and their fingers brushed, sending lightning strikes to every part of her. She quickly pulled her hand away, but she could tell from the look he gave her that he must have felt it, too.
“Molly . . .”
“Good night, Carter.”
He gave her a long look before nodding. “Night.”
She went into her bedroom and shut the door, pondered locking it, but then realized how ridiculous that would be. He wouldn’t come in. She took off her clothes and got into bed, staring up at the ceiling in her darkened room.
For some stupid reason, she wanted to go out there and talk to him. But about what? What could they possibly have to say to each other? It would only lead to more pain on her part. She was already in enough emotional trouble just being near him.
By tomorrow she’d be firmly planted in her parents’ house and she’d only have to deal with Carter at the committee meetings. It was minimal contact.
She could deal with that.
Right?
CARTER BRUSHED HIS teeth, then lay on the couch, leaving the small lamp lit so he could read. He sure as hell wasn’t tired, not with Molly’s scent filling the air around him.
He thought they’d had a good time tonight, but she was still tense around him. He didn’t know what to do about that, other than let her get used to him. He knew she was uncomfortable, that being with him brought old memories back to the surface. He couldn’t change the past. Neither of them could change what was.
