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“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Helena.” She nodded in Tate’s direction. “I’ll see you later.”

Saying good night to Ryan and Ms. Louise was not as easy, as Ms. Louise seemed determined to talk about wedding dates and Ryan seemed to be dodging the subject with some amazing verbal gymnastics.

“Are you not staying for coffee?” Ryan asked, the desperation clear on his face.

One benefit of owning a coffee shop was the ease with which she could refuse others’ offers of coffee—either they assumed she was over coffee in general or they assumed their coffee wouldn’t be good enough for her. Neither assumption was correct, but Molly wasn’t above playing that card when she needed to.

“No, I can’t. Thanks, though. Dinner was wonderful, Ms. Louise, as always. I’ll see y’all later.” She stopped long enough to pat Tank’s head. He was a rather funny-looking dog, being hairless and all, but there was something irresistible about him, too—mainly because he thought he was a much larger dog than he was.

On the porch, she took a deep breath. Some people might consider this to be a cowardly retreat, but staying really wasn’t an option. She understood why Tate had brought up the wedding, and it was a fair play, but she didn’t have a dog in the fight. Helena’s wedding date was not her business until Helena informed her it was.

She had very strong feelings about that, both because marriage wasn’t something people should be rushed or pressured into—she knew firsthand exactly how bad a disaster
that
could be—and because she really tried to stay out of things that weren’t her business.

Even if she didn’t feel that way, a strong sense of self-preservation would keep her out of it tonight. Tate
could risk his life in that mess all he wanted.
She
was staying the hell out.

Clouds had moved in as the sun set, cooling things down and making her wish she’d brought a sweater for the walk home. She’d run home, even in these shoes, both for the exercise and the heat, except she was way too full to consider that kind of exertion. She could walk fast, though. It wasn’t but a few blocks.

It was quiet outside, with most folks home for the evening, and the people in the houses were backlit behind their curtains as they moved around. A few folks were still out walking their dogs or taking after-dinner strolls, and she could hear the shouts and laughter of children playing nearby as a man’s voice called them inside.

At the foot of Ms. Louise’s driveway, she paused long enough to pull out her phone and check her mail—just long enough for Cindy Claris to spot her and break into a trot down the sidewalk, dragging her Chihuahua, Itsy, behind her as she tried to catch up. “Molly, wait!”

She did, and Cindy came to a stop beside her a few moments later, panting from the brief run. Itsy danced around her feet, seemingly delighted at the change of pace.

Cindy started in on a long, convoluted story involving Latte Dah, the War Memorial, and the Fourth of July parade, but Molly was having a hard time making the connection between the three things. Since she hadn’t been drinking, she had to wonder whether Cindy had been. “I’m not sure I—”

She was interrupted by a loud barking, followed by shouts of “Tank! No!” and Itsy trying to climb Cindy’s leg as a small dark smudge dodged around them in the twilight. Without thinking, she reached down and grabbed Tank’s collar, stopping his pursuit, and scooped
him into her arms, where he wiggled furiously and alternated between growls and barks.

Tate was only seconds behind, apologizing profusely at letting Tank past him and trying to soothe both the dogs and Cindy. Cindy, though, was convinced Itsy had suffered trauma—psychological, if not physical—from Tank’s bolt in her direction, so Molly carried Tank back up to the porch, where Ryan was emerging to find out what was going on.

“Sorry, Cindy,” he called in that direction, lifting Tank out of Molly’s arms. Dropping his voice, he explained, “He doesn’t like little dogs.”

That was funny, since Tank probably weighed only six or seven pounds himself. “I don’t think he got hold of Itsy,” she assured him. “He just startled everyone.”

“Damn,” Ryan said, surprising her.

Looking over her shoulder, Molly saw Cindy stalking across the yard in high dudgeon. “Oh. Good luck with that.”

At least she’d escaped Cindy’s confusing conversation, she thought with a small twinge of guilty pleasure. Cindy would follow up eventually, but maybe when Molly wasn’t so full of baked chicken and Ms. Louise’s famous potato cheese casserole the conversation might make sense. Or she’d at least have more patience for it.

Tate was waiting at the end of the driveway where Cindy had left him. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Tank didn’t do any damage to Itsy, did he?”

He shook his head. “Nah, Itsy’s fine.”

“Oh, good. Well, good night, then.” Belatedly, she noticed only Helena’s and Ryan’s cars in the driveway. Which meant Tate was on foot as she was. And since he lived two blocks past her house, he’d be walking in the same direction. If Cindy hadn’t stopped her, she’d be far enough ahead to avoid Tate offering—

“I’ll walk with you.”

There was no way to politely decline, which meant the uncomfortable kitchen conversation she’d avoided was now simply going to be her uncomfortable walk-home conversation instead.

She scrambled to gather her thoughts. As she knew fine well, no one liked to hear, “I’m not interested in you,” and, dinged pride aside, she saw no reason to throw something like that in his face out of petty revenge. Tate was nice, and cute, too—tall and broad shouldered with inky black hair and bright blue eyes. If she were shopping the market, he’d be an excellent choice. But she wasn’t, so it didn’t matter. Now she just needed to get back to the friendly-acquaintance footing they’d lost tonight due to Helena’s meddling.

Please just let it die a quiet, non-embarrassing death.

No such luck. They were barely out of earshot of the house when Tate said, “Can I apologize now?” His voice was a mix of exasperation and teasing, and he wore a self-deprecating smile that was really kind of charming.

“There’s no need. Really.”

He sighed. “When Helena gets an idea in her head . . .”

“She’s tenacious about it, I know. And I know she means well.”

“Still”—his voice turned serious—“what you heard me say . . .”

“It’s fine. My feelings aren’t hurt.” The need to strangle Helena was coming back full force, though.

“It’s nothing personal. You’re a very nice person. You’re beautiful and funny and smart . . .”

“And you’re not interested. I get it. It’s okay.” She tried to sound reassuring, but Tate just shook his head.

“I’m just saying it’s not you personally, or anything like that.”

“Good to know.” Before he could go on any further, she moved in front of him and held up a hand. “Can we stop this now? I don’t
want
you to ask me out.”

Tate pulled back a little, and she felt bad almost immediately. She hadn’t meant for the words to come out so sharp. But the surprised look that followed nearly made her laugh. He hadn’t been expecting
that.
He might not want to ask her out, but considering there were plenty of women in Magnolia Beach—and the surrounding counties, too—who’d be more than happy to grab him right up, her words had to have been a shock. Considering he’d been an unwilling participant in the evening’s farce, she’d give him a pass for including her in that bunch of women. But only this one time, and only because he was Helena’s friend. Plus, she reminded herself, no one liked to hear something like that.

He cleared his throat. “That makes this easier, then.”

“Exactly.” It was still awkward, though, and after a few more throat clearings and random looks around, they finally started walking again. Quietly, this time, thank goodness. The breeze kicked back up and Molly ran her hands over her bare arms to rub the chill bumps away.

“You cold? Take my hoodie.” He was already shrugging out of it.

She shook her head. “It’s a little chilly, but I won’t freeze between here and home.”

“I don’t need it,” he insisted. “I only have it with me because Helena borrowed it last week and returned it to me tonight. Here.” Tate held it out, gentleman-style, ready for her to slide her arms in, and further refusal would just make her look silly.

The hoodie held his body heat, chasing away the chill immediately. As she zipped it up, she could smell the spicy scent of Tate’s aftershave. She’d noticed the scent before, but from a respectable distance where it had
been only a faint aroma. This time, it surrounded her, filling her nose and lungs each time she inhaled. It was nice.

Unsettlingly nice, actually, and it took her a moment to figure out why. It was just so utterly, unabashedly
male
, and coupled with the warmth of his body and the loaning of his clothes, it pushed the right set of buttons in the right order to cause a little flutter low in her belly.

Maybe if Helena hadn’t had matchmaking on her mind, therefore putting it in
her
mind, this wouldn’t be happening. She’d never denied Tate was a hottie—she wasn’t blind, after all—but she’d never let her thoughts wander past that to the man himself.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed; she just hadn’t noticed like
that.

But it was a lovely evening and she was on a quiet walk with a good-looking, smart, and kind man who smelled nice and had the good manners to offer her his jacket.

It was downright
romantic
.

And now she seemed to be noticing him in a big way.

It had been so long since she’d thought—really
thought
—of any man in that way, she figured her ovaries were all but dust anyway. Finding out that wasn’t the case was nearly overwhelming.

And very disconcerting.

Damn Helena for putting ideas in her head.

No longer even the least bit chilly, she unzipped the hoodie to midchest to let the night air cool her down at the same time she started walking a little faster.

Four more blocks.

If Tate noticed the change of pace, he didn’t say anything, and his long legs easily matched her stride. She didn’t realize she was mumbling under her breath until Tate looked at her oddly.

Keep it together.

“I wanted to say thanks for giving my sister a job,” he said, choosing a new topic. “She’s really excited, even if she doesn’t know anything about coffee.”

It was such a complete change from where
her
mind had been that it took a second for her to process the shift. Once she did, though, she grabbed on to the topic like a lifeline. “I’m glad to hear it. She’s got the right personality and attitude for the job, and that’s the most important thing. Everything else is teachable.”

“Can I ask how much it pays?”

Molly nearly tripped over her own feet. She gave him a hard look. “Why? Are you planning to apply for a position?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “No.”

Nosy big brother.
“Compensation is negotiable and those negotiations are private,” she said in her most businesslike tone. “Ask your sister if you want to know.”

“Like she’d tell me.”

“Then don’t ask me to.”

“Fair enough. But do me a favor and don’t tell her I was asking.” There was that grin again, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
Damn it.

“Of course not. I think it’s very sweet that you’re so concerned about her.” She was still way off balance mentally, but at least she could handle this conversation.

“Can you convince her of that?” Tate shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned in to her as they walked. “She thinks I’m just being nosy,” he admitted.

“Should it come up in conversation, I’ll do my best,” she promised.

The corner of her street, where she’d be able to turn right, finally appeared like an oasis in the desert. “This is my stop. Thanks for walking with me.”
Please don’t let him be gentlemanly enough to walk me all the way home.

“My pleasure.”

She reached for the zipper of the hoodie. “Here. Let me give this back.”

Tate’s hand landed on hers lightly. “Keep it. You can return it later.”

The touch was brief and not at all inappropriate, but it gave her a jolt, and the warmth lingered even after he returned his hand to his pocket.

She needed to have her head examined. “Well, good night.”

“Good night, Molly.” There was a moment of awkwardness before Tate nodded at her and left, disappearing almost immediately into the shadows outside the streetlamps’ glow.

With Tate away, the tension dropped out of the air, but Molly was still left with a reservoir of tingly energy in her belly she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Because it would prove she was certifiably insane. She had no business getting those kinds of tingly feelings.

Once safely inside her house, with Nigel winding around her ankles, she stripped off Tate’s hoodie and dropped it into a chair.

She could still smell him, though.

But alone in her kitchen, she could at least think rationally. In the two-plus years she’d been in Magnolia Beach, she’d never looked at Tate as anything more than just another guy in town, and he’d certainly never given her the slightest reason to. Just because she’d suddenly discovered she still had a functioning—or
mal
functioning, depending on how she wanted to look at
it—libido, nothing good could come from acting on this newly discovered information. This was all crazy and needed to be stuffed back into the box it came out of.

She had enough on her plate and plenty of worries on tap.

This
was something she simply couldn’t contemplate.

Chapter 4

B
y the next morning, Molly had it all straight in her head.

She’d spent some time reading last night, and all her books seemed to say that the feelings stirred up were
good
, however inconvenient they felt now. It simply meant that she was healing, and when the time was right, she’d be ready to find someone, start dating, and maybe even fall in love again.