0451471040 (33 page)

I wanted you.

I took the risk.

I thought you’d have my back.

Trust people the way they trust you.

It wasn’t about you.

He was seven kinds of a fool.

Jerking the door open, he found himself in the waiting room with eight sets of wide eyes on him. They were certainly good at making scenes, and this one, while not as juicy as the last, had at least been louder.

Molly should have been at the desk, checking out with Jenny still, but a quick glance showed no sign of her. Jenny spoke quickly. “She’s gone. I’m sure she’ll be back, though, to settle up.”

That wasn’t his worry, and Jenny—along with everyone in the waiting room—knew it.

“God
damn
it,” he said, wanting to pull his hair out. The blasphemy got him a reproachful look from Mrs. Jackson, who looked ready to clap her hands over her corgi’s ears.

Turning on his heel, he stormed back to his office.

“Um, Tate?” Jenny called after him. “Mr. Martin and Patches are in room two.”

“They’ll just have to wait.”

•   •   •

The dark clouds in the sky and the threat of rain perfectly mirrored Molly’s mood. So much for staying calm. She was a complete idiot, causing
another
scene and storming out like—

Oh hell. She’d stormed out without paying. Damn it.

Slinking back in after such a dramatic exit would be excruciatingly embarrassing, but exactly what she deserved after behaving like that.

It would have to wait, though, as the first raindrops landed on her windshield as she pulled up next to her house. Sam was on her own at Latte Dah, and the rain
would bring customers in soon enough, easily overwhelming her. Grabbing Nigel’s carrier, she ran inside and let him out, only for him to give her a dirty look and immediately stalk off to the bedroom to sulk on her bed.

She dashed back to Latte Dah in the increasingly heavier rain, tossing her purse into the office and quickly tying on an apron. The crowd wasn’t too bad, but it was building even as she stood there, and Sam seemed relieved to see her. Helena, she noted, was in her usual Thursday place, earbuds in and hunched over her laptop, a forgotten cup of coffee gone cold at her elbow. Molly took a deep breath and tried to put a neutral look on her face, because God knew she didn’t want Helena questioning her right now about what might be wrong.

Forcing herself to smile so wide her cheeks hurt, she greeted the next customer in line, letting her brain check out as the familiar routine took over.

She had the container of soy milk in one hand and the steamer pitcher in the other when she heard Sam mutter, “What is he doing here?”

She looked up and saw Tate in the doorway, water dripping off his hair onto his shoulders. He scanned the crowd and the counter, his eyes passing over her before coming back to land on her with some weight. Molly couldn’t look away.

Then Tate started walking toward her.

Ah hell.
She wasn’t emotionally ready for round two, and she certainly didn’t relish the idea of entertaining her customers with it, either. But she didn’t know what to do, and she seemed unable to move under the weight of that stare.

The locals, familiar with the whole sordid story, seemed to know something was about to go down, and conversations died off as heads swiveled to follow Tate’s
progress. The tourists also began to fall quiet—they might not know exactly what was going on, but they knew something certainly was. The air turned tense, expectant.

That change in atmosphere must have penetrated Helena’s “zone,” as she jerked out her earbuds and jumped up, intercepting Tate by stepping directly into his path. She put a hand on his arm and spoke quietly to him.

Tate finally broke eye contact with Molly to look down at Helena briefly, shaking his head as he spoke and then stepping around her. He walked straight to the counter.

“I need to talk to you,” he said without preamble.

She swallowed hard. “Now’s not a good time—”

“It can’t wait.”

“I’ve got a full house of customers, and—”

Tate kissed her.

Leaning right across the counter, in front of a roomful of people, Tate grabbed her face and kissed her.

She nearly dropped the soy milk.

The kiss was equal parts frustration and hunger and hope, and as suddenly as it started it was over, and Tate was standing there looking at her, an unreadable look in those blue eyes.

Her lips were tingling, but she didn’t need to move them anyway—forming words out of the swirling mess in her mind was out of the question. But she had to do
something
. Not only was Tate staring at her, but so was a large portion of the clientele of Latte Dah, and as the shocked silence grew, everyone’s head was turning their way.

What that
something
she needed to do actually was, though . . .

“I’ll take those,” Sam said brightly, removing the milk and the pitcher from her hands. She’d forgotten
she was holding them in the eternity she’d been standing there.

Then Helena was beside her, steering her none too gently toward the kitchen, Tate in tow. “I’ve got customers,” she protested.

“I’ll help Sam,” Helena countered, nearly shoving them through the door. “I’ve watched you enough to pick up the basics.”

The door swung shut in her wake, leaving them standing silently in the bright kitchen while the noise returned to its normal level on the other side.

She couldn’t make sense of anything right now, and she took it out on Tate. “What the sweet hell do you think you’re doing? Do you not think we’ve both been embarrassed enough in public recently? Did you really have to make it worse?”

Tate had the decency to look a little ashamed of himself at least, putting his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. “That wasn’t what I intended, no. I just got carried away.” He looked adorable and self-deprecating and her heart gave a little flip, but after everything she’d been through recently she wasn’t making any decisions based on heart flips. And the complete one-eighty his mood had taken was unnerving.

She was feeling plenty of things, even if it was hard to identify any
one
emotion out of the melee inside her. The annoyance finally broke through, as it was the easiest to deal with. She was very tired of putting on a show for the population, and the longer she was back here, the more curious people would be. Just because he was ready to talk, that didn’t mean she had to be. “Then maybe you’ll believe me that now isn’t a good time—for either of us—to have this conversation.” She turned to leave.

“Molly, wait—” He grabbed her hand but let it fall once she turned around. “I’m sorry I was so dramatic
out there. It’s just that I finally got my head screwed on straight, and I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“To tell me what?”

“That I’m sorry and I miss you and I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance.”

Part of her had expected something along those lines. He
had
just kissed her, after all. And while it was nice and everything, and another part of her was turning cartwheels . . . she sighed. “Nothing’s changed, Tate. I’m still married.”

“I know. But I’m okay with that. I’ve actually been okay with that for a while now.”

“What?” Then why had he been so angry with her?

The corner of his mouth quirked up. He found this amusing? “We’ve been arguing about two different things. And they’ve got nothing to do with your divorce.”

She actually felt herself blink in shock. “Say again?”

•   •   •

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here like this. There were a lot of things that needed to be said, and a lot of discussion that needed to be had, and the kitchen of Latte Dah was not really the right place to be doing either. But he was learning that he had a real problem being rational when it came to Molly.

And since he’d already created scenes in two different locations today—in addition to walking out on a waiting room full of people—he might as well see this through.

“I’ve been a complete and insufferable ass. And I sincerely apologize.”

If Molly kept blinking like that, she was going to get airborne. At least he had her attention.

“And it is about me.” As her eyes widened, he quickly clarified his words. “Just not in the way it seemed.”

She shook her head. “Tate—”

“Let me finish, please.” He waited for her nod. “Your decisions were yours, made in order for you to do what you needed to do. That’s the part that’s not about me. I understand that—now,” he admitted. “My reactions were about me, though. I thought you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

She shook her head. “That wasn’t it at all.”

“I know that.
Now
at least,” he added. “I thought that if you trusted me, you would have told me everything up front, asked me for help.”

“I didn’t need—I didn’t
want
,” she corrected, “someone else involved. I wanted to get out of this mess by myself. Which, as we’ve discovered, was stupid because I
needed
advice from someone else,” she muttered.

“It’s understandable. It’s just that my feelings—and my pride—got a little dinged.”

He took a deep breath.
Cards-on-the-table time.
“I like to fix things. Save the damsel from her distress and all that.”

She nodded. “Considering your childhood, it’s not surprising.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I have a hard time remembering that I’m not on my own anymore. That I have friends I can turn to and count on. That I don’t have to do it all myself,” she finished quietly.

It was his turn to nod. “Considering your past, that’s not surprising, either.” He reached for her, not pulling her in, but just letting his hands gently stroke her arms. “That’s a problem.”

Molly raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, what’s a White Knight to do when the damsel doesn’t require his assistance?” he asked.

Her mouth twitched. “He reins his horse in and guards her back until she
asks
for help. The damsel, of course, promises to keep him informed and accept his
support. People shouldn’t have to fight battles alone if they don’t have to.”

The knot in his chest finally relaxed. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

He hooked her apron pocket with his finger, tugging her toward him a step. She didn’t resist, and his breath came a little easier. Another small tug and her thighs were almost touching his. “I guess we both needed to learn something from this experience,” she said.

“I didn’t need to borrow the book from Sam, though,” he added. “I figured it out myself.”

“It’s a good book,” Molly insisted. “You should read it. I think—”

Unable to resist any longer, he dropped his head to hers and kissed her. Molly’s hands came to rest on his shoulders as she kissed him back, and everything seemed to fall into place for him. She sighed as the kiss ended, leaning her head against his cheek. Putting his hands on her hips, he pushed her back a few inches so he could see her face. “If I promise to read that book, can I back up a bit?”

It took her a second to figure out what he was saying, but then she carefully schooled her face and asked, “How far?”

“To the last big scene we were a part of in Latte Dah. Pretend Mark just left, and I’ve pulled you back here so you could explain.”

She shot him a look. “Do I pretend you didn’t just kiss me?”

That could be a trick question. “Whatever makes you the least angry.”

That got him a small laugh.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “That was your husband? He’s a real jerk. I assume you’re trying to get a divorce?” He waited for her to nod. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and it gave
him hope. “I’m very sorry you’re married to a jerk. I’m sorry you didn’t think you could tell me about it before now.”

“And I
am
sorry you had to find out this way. I should have told you. I know you would have understood.”

“I’ll survive. You do what you need to do and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” He brushed her hair back from her face, then settled his hands on her hips again as she leaned into his chest. “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he mumbled into her curls. “I love you and I don’t like being without you—”

Molly’s head snapped up, only barely missing his chin. “What?”

“What what?”

Her brown eyes were huge. “You’re in
love
with me?”

“Of course. What do you think I’ve been saying?”

“A lot of stuff, but not that.”

“Well, it was implied.”

She shook her head. “That’s not the kind of thing it’s safe for someone to try to infer. It needs to be spelled out.”

“I L-O-V-E Y-O-U.
Ouch
,” he added when she smacked him.

Then she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing against him, chest to toes. It took a long, lovely while, but when it finally gentled, Molly pressed her forehead against his and sighed. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t realize he’d been waiting—
wanting—
to hear it until she said the words, and the feeling settled into his chest.

He leaned down to kiss her again but was interrupted by a banging on the door. A moment later it opened about eight inches. Sam stuck her head around, a hand covering her eyes. “I hate to interrupt—and I hope I’m interrupting something good—but I
need
Molly out
here. The line is really getting backed up, Helena is not much help, and I’m afraid she’s going to break something.”

Molly laughed as Sam disappeared. “I gotta go. I’ve got customers.”

“And I really need to get back before all those people I left sitting in the waiting room decide to find a new vet. One who
doesn’t
ditch them to go chasing after a girl.”

Brushing her hair back and straightening her apron, Molly smiled at him. “All things considered, I think they’ll understand.”

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet.” With one last quick kiss, she followed in Sam’s wake.