“Don’t worry about it,” Jake says, turning to me. “I can drive her home.”
Molly beams. “We can catch up! That’s a great plan. Love. It.”
“I . . . Thanks?” Jake was never mean about Molly, never hated on her, but he always understood my resentment. When did they become buddies?
I’m irritated with my own irrational jealousy. I’m being an idiot.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jake asks me softly, and when I stare at him blankly, he says, “For the baby shower?”
“Oh, right! That’s tomorrow.” I nod. Mother Teresa in my guest room and Harrison’s baby shower all in one day. It’s gonna be a doozy. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Okay.” I stare at him for a beat, struggling with the possessiveness I’ve felt ever since I stepped out of the kitchen and saw him talking to my stepsister. I don’t want you to drive Molly home. I want you to kiss me like you did last night, but I want you to do it right here in front of everyone.
He must not hear my telepathic plea, because he’s already moved on, helping Cindy fill a tray with half a dozen of our popular house brew flights.
“Night,” I say softly.
“Good night,” Molly calls as I leave, and I know without a doubt she’d never ruin a perfect kiss by telling the guy she had lube.
Jake
When Molly asked for her third beer, I decided it was time to take her home before tipsy turned into drunk. Before her little touches—on my wrist, my biceps, the back of my shoulder—turned into . . . more.
I knew Ava was dying to get out of there, so I offered to drive Molly home. Now that we’re alone together in my car, I kind of regret it. The night is dark—the stars and sliver of moon covered by a thick sheet of clouds—and the car is too small. My mistakes weigh heavily on my tongue, keeping me from having the conversation I need to use this time for.
“You still smell good, you know that?” Molly says, turning in her seat and staring at me.
“Molly . . .”
She sighs. “Sorry. A girl can hope, right?”
I keep one hand on the wheel and use the other to squeeze the back of my neck. “Do you have any sales experience?” Just pretend it never happened, and everything will be fine.
“My background is in non-profit fundraising, which is the toughest kind of sales.”
I nod and swallow. “Jackson Brews needs a regional sales rep in the northeast. I think you could be good at it if you were interested. I’m meeting with a few people when I go out there next month, but if you wanted, you and Brayden and I could sit down while you’re in town.”
“Like, an interview?”
I nod, my eyes on the road and avoiding hers, which I’ve felt glued to me since she got in the car. “Yeah.”
“Sure. Thanks. I think . . . That would be awesome. I’m really grateful, Jake.”
“No problem. I hope it works out.” I flash her a smile.
She bites her bottom lip and trails her index finger down my arm. “Was there any other reason you wanted to drive me home?”
Shit. “Molly, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong—”
Pulling away, she takes a deep breath and rolls her head to face the window. “Please don’t. Don’t give me that speech. It’s embarrassing.”
I pull into Ava’s drive and cut the engine. The house is dark except for the single porch light.
“You’re still in love with her?” she asks softly.
There’s a big list of people I don’t want to have this conversation with, and Molly is somewhere near the top.