Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl
so quickly that Molly reached out to stop herself from bumping into him. Her hand connected with a rock-solid back. When he turned, she felt muscles shifting even under the heavy coat, and then, instead of her hand resting on his back, her arm was actually curled around his waist, her hip touching his. Even Molly was startled at how she’d just made herself at home.
He raised a meaningful eyebrow at her arm until she removed it.
“Accident. Sorry. I swear I’m not a hussy.” The word hussy made her laugh until she snorted, and Ben’s eyes crinkled a little in amusement.
“Look, Molly. I think you’re cute. And I am single. But it’s a small town, you know? Too complicated.”
“Too complicated? Really? Jeez, you’re a real live wire, Professor.”
“Come on. You know how it is.”
“I was only trying to finagle a date. A date. I promise not to chain you to the basement stairs.”
“I don’t date women in Tumble Creek.”
“Seriously?” Yes, he was probably being serious. He’d always been too logical for his own good. “Come on, Ben. What do you do, fly north when the days get longer? Do you have a set migration route or do you have a different set of stops each year?”
“I…It’s complicated.”
“Huh. I’ll say.” She brushed past him, making sure to inhale his scent when she got close. Mmm. Cold air and forests. Nothing complicated about that. He reached past to open the door and his chest brushed her back. Nice. She wasn’t giving up that easy.
Grinning, she walked down the uneven steps and waited for him at the bottom. “It’s not complicated,” she finally said. “I promise you I’m a simple girl.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her. It probably didn’t help that a man across the street started shouting her name. Please don’t let it be one of Cameron’s boys, she prayed as she turned toward the sound of a car door slamming.
“Molly Jennings, is that you? I was just on my way to your house.” Mr. Randolph was heading for his trunk.
“Hi there, Mr. Randolph.”
He popped the trunk, then reappeared with a big vase of roses. “These are for you.”
“Oh, good God,” she groaned, though she did manage to paste a smile on her face.
The flowers bounced jauntily in the man’s arms as he jogged across the street. “Two dozen roses. This young man must think real highly of you.” Mr. Randolph shifted the flowers to one hand, fumbling for the note. “Was it Devlin or Evan?” He patted around for his reading glasses.
“Devon,” Molly snapped, reaching for the damn flowers. She caught the smirk on Ben’s mouth and sent him a glare.
“Simple, huh?” he muttered. “Just another Denver guy, Molly?”
“Yes. He’s a friend. From Denver.”
Mr. Randolph exploded with laughter, totally overdoing it in Molly’s opinion. “A friend! Ha! Those are long stems. Forty dollars a dozen. What’ve you been up to down in Denver, Ms. Jennings?”
“Nothing.”
“You one of them rich business women?”
“No.” She tried to leave it at that, but Mr. Randolph just waited, his rheumy blue eyes staring hard. Molly sighed. She’d been through this before. She knew the easy way out. “I do some sensitive work for a tech company. Nothing exciting though.”
“A techie, huh? Well, congratulations on the flowers. I’ll be seeing you around. Good to have you back.”
“Thank you, Mr. Randolph.”
She watched him go, ignoring the burning sensation at the back of her neck. The older man waved and disappeared into his flower, gift and fly-fishing shop, leaving Molly with no choice but to turn around and meet Ben’s hard eyes.
“So you work for a tech company.”
“No.”
“Then you’re a liar.”
“Yes. I’ve found it’s a lot easier than the truth.”
“The truth being?”
“That I don’t discuss my work with anyone.”
He rocked back on his heels a little, looking her up and down with a suspicious glare. “And why is that, Molly?”
“That’s none of your business. Plus it’s complicated, and I know how you hate complications.”
Ben didn’t look any friendlier at that. In fact, Molly felt an undignified urge to squirm under his examination and blurt out a false confession. When he put his hands on his hips, she could see his big gun, and not the big gun she was interested in, either. She clutched the flowers hard to her chest.
“I won’t have anything illegal going on here.”
“I’m not—”
“Is that clear?”
“Jeez Louise, Ben!” She threw up one hand and waved it in frustration. “Who do you think I am?”
He looked her up and down one more time, sweeping her body with little tingles. “I have no idea anymore.”
“I’m just Molly Jennings, all grown up. And hopefully charming as hell.”
“It shouldn’t be any mystery to you why I don’t appreciate the excitement of a secret life. I wouldn’t date a woman who kept half her life hidden, even if I wanted to.”
“Do you want to?”
He only gave her a frown, so with a little groan of defeat, Molly gave up. “All right, I’m leaving. Bye.” She turned up the sidewalk and headed toward her house, but she couldn’t resist one last attempt. “But I will be at The Bar tonight,” she called back. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
A blast of cold wind kicked up and drowned out his reply. If he’d made one.
The breeze carried the scent of snow and pine and crisp, gold aspen leaves. Molly smiled despite Ben Lawson and his ridiculousness. Fall had always been her favorite season, and nothing was better than fall in the mountains. Dry leaves tumbled down the narrow street, scraping and tapping the blacktop. Clumps of red berries clung to leafless bushes, bobbing in time to the gusts. On the steep hill above town, groves of bright yellow leaves quaked against a backdrop of green pines so dark they were nearly black.
She couldn’t believe it had been ten years since she’d come home. But when she’d left for college—after hiding out from Ben for the last three weeks of summer—her parents had sold the feed store, packed up the family home, and moved to St. George, Utah (“Just like Santa Fe! Only less crowded and snooty”).
Her brother lived mostly in Aspen, and she visited him a couple times a year, but other than that…Her world had been in Denver. But not anymore. Unless she needed new clothes.
Tumble Creek was her home again, and if Ben Lawson wanted nothing to do with her that was fine. There was no history between them; she certainly wasn’t in love with the man. Okay, maybe she’d had a crush on him for a few years. And maybe she’d spent more than a few years fantasizing about his lean, strong body and big, sure hands. But she would take care of that the same way she always did.
Molly picked up the pace and hurried toward home.
HE WAS STANDING in the dim light of her bedroom, waiting in the doorway for some signal from her. Molly let him wait. She wanted to take him in first, explore his body with just her eyes. And what a body it was.
His wide shoulders curved down into arms that looked carved from stone. Dark hair dusted his chest and danced a thin line over his sculpted