Ava’s grin is a little evil. “Oh, I like where you’re going with this, Shay.”
Brayden
Sara’s changed her number, but mine is the same as it’s always been. I wish she’d have thought to use it and warn me. My brand-new tasting room is the last place I want to deal with the shock of seeing her again. Especially tonight with all my family around. I would have prepared for this. I would have told her not to come here, where there are too many people who think they need to protect me.
One second, I’m staring at Sara, trying to decide how to respond to her frank invitation that we reconnect, and the next, Molly is wrapping an arm around my waist and grinning up at me like we’re lovers. “Hey, you. Everything okay?”
Instinct alone has my arm snaking around her waist in return, but what the hell? “Everything’s fine.” With the exception of last night’s massage in my bed, Molly doesn’t stand this close to me or touch me beyond the occasional brush of a hand—not since that one night. But right now, she’s pressing against me like . . .
I catch sight of Shay standing at the edge of the crowd, a satisfied smirk on her face, and I realize exactly what Molly is doing.
God save me from meddling sisters.
Sara’s gaze shifts between me and Molly and back, her face growing paler with each pass. “Oh. Are you two . . . ?”
I let the question hang there for a beat too long. Did she think I’d wait for her? Ten years and not a fucking word, and she’s shocked to see another woman at my side?
The fact that I nearly did wait ten years only pisses me off more, but Molly either doesn’t notice the tension in my body or she ignores it. She leans into me, so close I can smell her strawberry shampoo and feel her every curve. “I’m Molly,” she says, extending a hand to Sara. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met?”
Sara’s gaze flicks between us again. “I’m . . . Sara?” The sight of Molly has her off balance. I flash a glare to Shay before stepping away from Molly. Shay might have led her to believe this would help, but I’m not interested in playing games.
Molly tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up at me suggestively as she nestles closer into my side. It’s sexy, and the look combined with the feel of her pressed against me might turn me on if it weren’t so damn calculated. And if my ex wasn’t standing in front of me looking for all the world like she wants another chance. “Is this the ex-girlfriend you told me about?” Molly asks. “The masseuse?”
There’s not a doubt in my mind that Molly used that word deliberately.
The jab works, and Sara winces but tries to smile at me when she says, “Just let me know if we can talk.” She turns and rushes out the door.
I watch her climb into a sedan in the parking lot and have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to feel. Relieved? Disappointed? The only emotion I’m sure of right now is confusion and frustration.
I set my jaw as I turn to Molly. “What was that?”
“Shay said she was your evil ex and we needed to save you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” My head’s a mess. I need to get out of here.
Molly bows her head, chastened. “Sorry. I . . .” She shakes her head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t blame her,” Jake calls from behind the taproom bar, where he’s stepped in to fill orders. It’s getting busier in here by the minute. Thirsty Thursday, indeed. “We told her to intervene.”
I don’t need any of them intervening. “Call me if you need me, Levi,” I say. I ignore the rest of my siblings and their curious stares, and head out the door to my car.
The cold bite of the winter air is more than welcome, and I don’t even care that my coat is in my office. Maybe the cold will help me think straight, help me process this. Sara is back. Sara wants to talk to me.
Shay should have known better than to send Molly in like some fake girlfriend. If she had given it any thought, she’d have known I’d hate the idea, but she wasn’t thinking about what I want, only how she could protect me.
“Brayden, stop,” Molly calls.
“Why?” I ask, spinning around, but my anger melts when I see Molly’s face. She feels like shit about this.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Seriously, Brayden. I should have stayed out of it.”
“You should have.” I exhale heavily and roll my shoulders back. “But it probably doesn’t matter anyway.”
“It does, though,” she says. She takes me by the hand and drags me to the side of the building, out of sight of the road and the tasting room windows. “We’re roomies, and I really, really don’t want you pissed at me.”