Finally a Bride (8 page)

“Eric?”

His body tense and throbbing, Eric jerked back until Molly’s arms fell to her sides and her thick lashes blinked open.

“Eric?”

“Uh-uh. It’s probably not a good idea to
show
me you’re sorry, either,” he said, his voice gruff, even though he’d tried for light and friendly. He didn’t want to have to assure her again that she hadn’t ruined anything.

Color rushed to Molly’s face, painting her cheekbones dark rose. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t trying…”

“I know.” She didn’t have to try. That had always been the problem with resisting his attraction to her.

Her dark eyes wide, she stammered, “I—I don’t want you to think…”

What? Before he could actually work up the nerve to ask, someone else called his name from around the side of the cabin. “Eric?”

“Rory?” Molly mouthed at him.

He nodded and glanced down at his watch. “Yeah, I’m back here.”

Molly shoved his chest—probably in protest of his call to Rory—but the memory of her hands on his body, her lips pressed to his continued to flit through his mind, reminding him of what he’d just stopped. Molly turned and fled into the house just as her teenage brother rounded the corner of the cabin.

“Hey, man!” Rory said.

“Hey,” Eric called back. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it today.” But he was damned glad he had.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Rory asked, his brown eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Clearly his mother hadn’t told him where Molly was, or at least she hadn’t told him to leave his oldest sister alone.

“Uh, it looks like rain.” Eric pointed to the ominous sky.

“You always say the fish bite more when it looks like it’s gonna rain,” Rory reminded him.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fish are biting,” Eric said, hiding his surprise that the kid had actually paid attention to him. “But I didn’t think you’d make our standing fishing appointment, since you’ve got houseguests.”

“From what I hear, you got a houseguest, too,” Rory replied in a loud voice. He glanced toward the partially open slider and grinned. “Hey, Mol! You can stop hiding. I know you’re here—come out!”

Eric wouldn’t lie to Rory, not even for Molly, but he tried steering him toward the dock. “C’mon, let’s get out on the lake before this storm actually hits.”

“So you’re not gonna try and tell me she’s not here?” Rory asked, his eyes wide.

Eric couldn’t. When he’d caught the kid drinking in the park with the Hendrix boys, he and Rory had made a pact to never lie to each other.

“I’m here,” Molly admitted as she stepped back onto the deck. “But you shouldn’t be.”

“Why not? You want Eric all to yourself?” the teenager teased.

Molly’s face flushed again and she shoved her brother this time. “No. If people know you’ve stopped over here, they’re going to ask you if you saw me.”

“So?” Rory retorted. “I’ll lie for you.”

“Really?” his older sister asked, as if stunned by her sibling’s loyalty.

“Sure,” he agreed, and then qualified his answer. “For the right price.”

“You little twerp.”

“Careful. Insults drive up my fee,” he taunted. “Now I’ll need more incentive to keep your secret.”

“Maybe I should just call Mom,” his big sister threatened.

The mischievous glint flickered out of Rory’s eyes. “Uh, you don’t need to do that.”

“You’re not even supposed to be here, are you?” she guessed. “Mom told you not to come?”

“She used some excuse about needing me to entertain Lara. But it was a pretty lame excuse,” Rory commented. “That’s when I figured you were here.”

The teenager was smart. Too smart to be getting himself into so much trouble.

“And you had to rush over to hassle me?” she asked.

Her little brother grinned. “It was too good to pass up.”

“You’re enjoying this?”

“Smart, perfect Molly messing up?” He whistled. “Oh, yeah, I’m enjoying it. Maybe I’ll finally stop getting told by Mom, Clayton and every teacher at school that I should try to be like my oldest sister.”

Molly protested, “Rory, I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Looks like they’re the ones who’ve been exaggerating. You’re not so perfect after all.”

“Hey, you two. Seriously, it looks like the storm’s moving closer,” Eric pointed toward the sky. Actually it had looked the same most of the afternoon, but Eric didn’t want to be in the middle of a family fight. Especially since he cared about both siblings. “You should probably get home before you get stuck here. I’ll give you a ride in the truck.”

Rory shook his curly head. “That’s all right. I rode my moped over.”

“I can throw it in the back of the truck.” And get some much-needed time and distance away from Molly.

“No, it’s okay, really. You drive so slow, old man, that I can get home just as fast on my own,” he teased, mischief glinting in his dark eyes again.

“Rory, mind your manners,” his sister admonished him.

“It’s just Eric, Mol.”

It’s just Eric.
Was that how she saw him? Eric swallowed a sigh, knowing that it probably was.

“He’s not an old man,” Molly defended him.

“Yeah, he’s not as old as your groom, that’s for sure.”

Eric suppressed the chuckle that was burning his throat. Towers was probably only five or six years older than he was.

“Is that why you left the guy at the altar, Mol?”

“Rory!” Outrage flashed in her eyes and she reached for her younger brother.

Lifting his hands as if to fend her off, he stepped back. “Don’t get violent,” he joked. “I’ll get out of here.”

“You better head home before Mom notices you’re gone. She probably really needs your help with Lara.”

He shrugged. “Lara’s pretty cool for a little girl.”

“You be cool,” Molly warned him. “And don’t you dare tell anyone you saw me.”

“We’ll negotiate my price later,” Rory teased as he headed around the corner of the cabin. Then, over his shoulder, he tossed out his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation, “I’ll be baaaack.”

Eric twisted his mouth, biting the corner of his lip to stop himself from grinning at the kid’s antics.

“He’s such a little creep,” Molly said, huffing in an agitated breath of outrage.

“He’s a teenager.” Rory was wild and reckless, Eric thought, but not wanting to add to Molly’s worries, he kept that to himself.

“He’s a twerp.” She drew in another breath as if to calm herself. “You really have a standing fishing date with him?”

“Appointment,” Eric corrected her. “We’re guys—we don’t
date.
But we do fish every Sunday afternoon.”

“Why?”

Eric shrugged. “I figured he could use another guy in his life.”

“He has Clayton. You know how my older brother loves assuming responsibility for everyone around him,” she said with a faint trace of bitterness.

Eric nodded. “I figured he could use someone a little less, uh…”

“Rigid?” she supplied.

“Yeah, a little less rigid than Clayton.” The oldest McClintock sibling made Eric’s boot-camp drill sergeant look easygoing by comparison.

Molly reached out, brushing her fingers over his forearm. “That’s really sweet of you to do that, to be there for him.”

He would have liked to be there for her—as more than a friend. But the diamond of her engagement ring glinted on her hand, reminding him that she still officially belonged to another man.

“Well, I think I get more out of our Sunday afternoons than he does,” he admitted. “Rory always makes me laugh.” Something Eric hadn’t done much of since he’d been a kid himself. Shrugging off her hand, he turned toward the lake, to his fishing boat roped to the dock. “I shouldn’t have sent him home.”

“Thanks for doing that,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. “Of course it’s probably too late, since he saw me here.”

“He’ll keep quiet,” Eric assured her.

“You sound confident.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “What do you have on him?”

“I think I’ll go out on the water, anyway,” he said, ignoring her question as he continued to stare at his boat, bobbing on the wind-driven waves.

“You told him it looks like it’s going to storm,” she reminded him.

“The clouds are moving off. I doubt I’d even get wet,” he predicted. Not that he couldn’t use a dip in the cool lake water. His body still ached from their kiss. He definitely needed a cold shower.

“Then, I’ll go out with you.” She invited herself. “It’s been a long time since I went fishing.”

“Molly…”

Molly smiled, hearing the groan in his voice. But it wasn’t like when he’d groaned earlier, when she’d kissed him. “C’mon, Eric, I want to go with you.”

She wanted to do more than fish with him, but she had to settle for fishing. She still wore one man’s ring, and she shouldn’t be kissing—or doing anything else—with another one. Not even
after
she returned the ring. She couldn’t jump into anything else, career-or relationship-wise. She wore the ring not only to protect it, but also to protect herself from making another impulsive decision.

“I’m not throwing back the fish like you used to make me do,” he warned as he headed toward the dock.

Molly rushed after him. “Don’t we need poles? Bait?”

“You want to dig for night crawlers?” he asked.

She shuddered. “No.”

“I have tackle boxes and poles in the boat,” he explained as he stepped off the dock, his long legs easily managing the distance between deck boards and boat.

Molly stopped on the edge of the dock. Wedge sandals and a short dress weren’t the most practical clothes for fishing. But she didn’t trust Eric to wait for her if she went back to the house to change.

Eric sighed—a sigh that sounded suspiciously long-suffering—then reached out for her. “Take my hand.”

“Always.” She entwined her fingers with his and stepped off the dock. As she joined him, the boat rocked beneath her feet, and she fell against Eric’s lean, hard body. Her breath escaped in a gasp.

“Careful,” he cautioned, helping her settle onto one of the bench seats.

She wasn’t going to be too stubborn to take his advice this time—both in the boat and her life. From now on she would be careful, so no more kissing him. “You’ll still bait my hook?” she asked.

Eric sighed again. “I wonder if I can catch Rory,” he mused aloud.

Molly smacked his arm, rocking the boat again. “So you’d prefer him to me?”

“I don’t have to bait
his
hook,” Eric said as he untied the boat.

“He probably baits yours,” she accused. “What do you have on him?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not worried about him telling anyone that I’m staying here,” she reminded him. Given how well he knew her, he should have known better than to try to distract her with a change of subject. Even she was aware that her single-mindedness was a Cloverville legend. “You have some dirt on my little brother. Spill it.”

Eric shook his head, and the light breeze ruffled his dark blond hair. “Nope. I don’t tell secrets.”

“So you do have dirt on Rory.” She studied Eric through narrowed eyes, but he didn’t squirm beneath her scrutiny. Instead he ignored her and rowed to the middle of the lake. But Molly couldn’t ignore him or the way his biceps strained the sleeves of his T-shirt, flexing with each push of his hands against the oars.

Eric’s gaze met hers, his eyes darkening as he caught her staring. Molly pulled her attention from
him,
glancing around at the lake. With only the single dock, and trees rimming its banks except for the cabin, the lake had an undisturbed beauty. Water slapped against the boat, rippling away in undulating currents.

She pulled her mind from Eric, as well, refocusing on her brother. “So Rory’s been getting into trouble,” she surmised.

“You’ll have to ask him.” Eric handed her a fishing pole. “Here, I baited it.”

Understanding that he wanted some peace for fishing, Molly managed to keep quiet. Until something tugged on her line, and then she shrieked.

“Reel it in,” Eric advised.

Molly’s fingers fumbled with the reel, trying to turn it. “I—I can’t, the reel’s rusty.”

“You’re rusty. When’s the last time you went fishing?” he asked.

“With you…”

Eric set aside his own pole and moved behind her so that he spooned her body, his arms around her, his fingers over hers as he helped her crank the reel. Gripping the pole, Molly leaned back, pressing against his chest. Her breath stuck in her lungs as every nerve ending tingled.

Then Eric jerked the pole out of the water and the cold, wet fish, wriggling on the line, slapped against Molly. Startled, she shrieked again and jumped up, knocking Eric back. The boat rocked and then tipped, toppling the poles, the fish, the tackle boxes and them into the lake.

“G
OOD THING YOUR MOM
brought leftovers,” Eric said as Molly carried a tray outside, to where he’d started a bonfire on the sandy beach. “Since you got your way, and the fish got released.”

“Catch and release,” Molly murmured. “That’s my motto. With fish and men.”

As she set the tray on the sand, he touched the diamond on her finger and reminded her. “You haven’t released Towers yet.”

“Oh, this?” She glanced down at the ring as if she’d forgotten she still wore it. Seeing as how she’d kissed Eric not once but twice, maybe she had forgotten.

If only he could.

When they’d stumbled ashore, her wet dress had been nearly transparent, hugging every sweet curve of her body. He’d used all his willpower to keep himself from pulling her down onto the sand and burying himself inside her.

“I’m going to give it back to him,” she insisted.

Holding his breath, he asked, “When?”

She dropped down beside him on the blanket he’d laid atop the sand, and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Because then you’ll have to talk to him?” Jealousy gripped him.

“Because then I’ll have no reason to stay here.”

His heart clenched. “You want to stay here?”

“I—I need to sort some things out yet. It’s only been a day,” she reminded him.

Was it just yesterday that she was supposed to have married another man?

“Seems longer,” he remarked.