She was this close. She could fall for a guy like this.
And she had absolutely no intention of falling for a guy who was as bossy as they came. The boss of a group of mostly men, who had the capability of bossing the whole town.
That was the reason she told herself, anyway. The voice that told her she wasn’t brave enough to do so was the same voice she was used to squashing.
So she lightened the mood, for her own sake. “I suppose you don’t want me to laugh at you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I really, really don’t. I don’t think big, tough guys are supposed to say things about magic. Next I’ll be talking about fairies and invisible people that wear, I don’t know, little green hats.”
“Leprechauns?”
He snapped his fingers and his smile was soft. “Those are the ones.”
“But it is magic, I can’t disagree with you on that.” She leaned forward and smelled the night. “There’s nothing better than this air, is there? When I was a kid in Nashville, I used to dream about this smell. You can’t describe it. It’s like if electricity were softened. If you could touch current and, you know, not have it kill you. That’s the way I feel when I’m here. Like I’m plugged into something amazing.”
“That’s a great way to describe it.”
“My mom loved it out here.” Molly had forgotten that completely. Till that exact moment. She had a sudden stunning memory that fell into her head in one piece – she and her two sisters up here, lying on the floor where the hole for the staircase came up, gazing down to the floor below as their mother and father danced to a song they sang in low tones to each other. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten this so completely.” Except for that one concert when she’d kissed the boy with the corn-nut breath, she hadn’t thought she had any other memories of the place. What had the song been, that her parents had sung to each other? Something Mama had written, probably. She’d had a million of those tunes, carried around in her body, ready to sing at any moment. The original Songbird.
“It’s a special place.” He ran his hand along the metal. “Full of memories. My mom loved it here, too. We used to have picnics here. My dad called it his third favorite folly.”
Molly reached to set a piece of glass swinging on its wire. “I don’t think I even know what a folly is, really.”
“A folly’s a building that’s built for no purpose other than just to be beautiful. It’s useless.”
“So he had two other favorite ones? Where?”
Colin blew out a breath. “In his house. His wife and daughter.”
“Oh, damn.” Molly stilled the glass with her hand, stopping its tinkle.
“My mother was known for being the prettiest girl in the county. You’ve seen my sister. He didn’t think they were worth much, though, and he didn’t mind saying it.”
Shock jolted through her gut. “That’s pretty harsh.”
“He was, yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I actually don’t know why I’m talking about him.” Colin sounded startled. “It’s okay. He’s good and dead, and I’m fine with that.”
Molly recognized bravado when she heard it. She turned her back on the surf and looked upwards. The open metalwork overhead made lace of the sky, and starlight sparkled through. “You know, my mother told me that once there was a grand piano up here.” She pictured people standing near a piano under the open sky, holding martinis and glasses of wine, as below couples whirled as her parents once had. “That can’t be true. Can it?”
“This floor has been rebuilt a few times. Once was in nineteen thirty-seven, after the piano crashed through the salt-rotten wood to the level below. Luckily no one was below when it happened.” Colin reached out to touch a piece of glass hanging from a wire, sending it tinkling against its neighbors. “This is salvaged piano wire, and this old glass is from a couple of old windows that didn’t even make it through five seasons.”
“All of this took someone so much work. So much love was put into it. And it takes work now, to keep the sand mostly out, to rebuild it. Who does it all?”
He didn’t need to answer – his face gave it away.
“I knew it.” Molly pointed to the house. “You’re the crotchety old guy.”
“Not quite sure what a crotchet it, but I think I might be it.” There was something new in his voice – happiness. That was it. When Colin looked up at the house, he was happy. It felt good – right – to hear him like that.
“Why do you do it?”
“Because.”
“Because why?” she pushed.
“Because my mother loved it here most of all.”
And he’d loved his mother. She laughed. “You’re a big softie.”
He shot her a look then. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t read them. “I am, huh?” He stepped forward just as a gust off the water caught Molly from behind.
She sucked in a breath, unsure what would happen next. She didn’t know what she wanted to happen, but she wanted something to. That much was true. Her heart pounded. Fear? Excitement? Did they feel the same?
Colin reached for her right hand, and then took her left, too. He held both of her hands wrapped in his big ones, and stood in front of her, stock still. He was only inches from her. The wind blew her hair forward, slapping against her cheeks. She was grateful for the relative darkness.
“I’m not soft.” His voice was amused. The double entendre was intentional and direct. But he wasn’t going to close the distance between them. She could feel that he was giving her that.
He’d made the first move.
Now Colin was waiting for her. It was up to Molly to make the next one.
She should break this off. She should stop it in its tracks. She didn’t need to be involved with anyone, and certainly not the sheriff. She didn’t want to think of anyone except herself in the next few months.
But this man did something to her.
He drew her like no one else ever had.
Colin’s eyes held hers, and it felt like a touch, a stroke.
That was the problem.
In her mind, over the pounding of the surf behind them, she heard what the man at the bar had said. The fat one. Oh, God, was that why Colin was out here?
Because he was sorry for her?
Because he wanted to make her feel better?
He was that kind of guy – Molly knew that from working with Nikki and the treats he’d quietly left them on the table outside. Once it hadn’t been cookies or coffee – it had been a thick, warm fawn-brown coat. Nikki had laughed. He’s always telling me I’m going to freeze to death, but I just don’t like wearing jackets. We live in California! It’s cold, but if a sweatshirt is good enough for the surfers, it should be good enough for me. Molly had noticed she’d shrugged it on as she’d left, pulling the arms of the jacket around like a hug. He’s so bossy. But her face had been pleased. Happy.
Bossy.
He liked to make women feel better about themselves.
Had the kiss at her room been a pity kiss? A be-nice-to-the-chubby-girl kiss? Oh, God, that couldn’t be it – she could feel the heat between them. Panic rose in her chest anyway. Her jaw tightened painfully. She retrieved her hands, dropping his gaze. “Well, okay.”
“Molly –”
Then, before she even knew what she was doing, she was running down the spiral staircase so fast she slipped on the last two steps. She tried to regain her balance, wheeling her arms and grabbing at the railing, but the metal was so cold and wet she found no purchase. The panic flared higher.
She fell, landing on her knees and her left wrist. She was up on her feet so quickly she felt light-headed – maybe he hadn’t seen, hadn’t heard her land like the freaking elephant she was.
Colin’s tread was heavy and rapid on the stairs behind her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Molly brushed her wet, dirty hands against her jeans. It didn’t matter what she looked like, after all. “I’m fine. I do it all the time.” She wasn’t fine – that was a lie. Tears pricked at the back of her eyelids, and they weren’t tears of pain, even though her wrist was screaming and her right knee felt warm, like it might be bleeding.
They were tears of anger. At herself.
She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She loved herself as she was.
Or that’s what she’d been working on for most of her life. God, she’d thought she’d gotten so much better at it, until this exact moment.
She gulped, an audible noise. Just another embarrassing thing about herself to feel badly about. Was she actually on the verge of a panic attack? Here? Now?
Awesome.
“I’d like to go home.” And as she said it, she realized she didn’t know where she meant by that. Home couldn’t be just a room in an old hotel. Home wasn’t any of the cabins on any of the cruise liners. Home wasn’t Nashville, not anymore. Home wasn’t Darling Bay. Maybe home was her sisters, but they’d been so far-flung for so long she didn’t believe that, either. She stopped the sob where it started in her chest, pushing it back down, choking with the effort. She was being ridiculous, and she couldn’t make herself stop.
“Let’s go up to my house. We can put ice on your bruises. You hit hard enough you must have got some good ones.”
Hard enough. Was that a veiled reference to her weight? How she’d hit the ground?
No, no – now she was just being ridiculous. It had been a terrible night. That was all there was to it. She needed to go to sleep and start over fresh tomorrow.
“Molly?”
“Can you take me back to the hotel?”
Colin stood in front of her. He put his hands behind his back, as if he knew she was on the very edge of getting so spooked she’d run as far and as fast as she could from this exact moment, which was pretty close to the truth. “I can. I can absolutely do that, and if it’s what you want, I’m totally, one hundred per cent happy to do that.”
Molly bit the inside of her mouth.
“But,” he continued, “my house is closer than the hotel is. I have ice, and more importantly, I have bourbon. And a view.”
She closed her eyes. Bourbon did sound good. Except…
“I swear to God I won’t try anything. Not one single thing.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Because he wasn’t attracted to her. Or maybe he was – how could she trust herself to know the difference between attraction and pity? The silly tears wanted to start again, and now they were just because she was feeling sorry for herself.
Which was so dumb it was almost unbearable.
Molly had decided a long time ago that she would be honest with herself and those around her. That she’d cut off this kind of feeling before it even got started. She was strong and healthy and just right as she was, and if those around her couldn’t take it, then to hell with them.
It took bravery to be truthful.
She touched the badge in her pocket. It helped, just enough. “I would like some bourbon, and if it means going up to your place would get me that a little quicker. Does that trail lead up to your house? Or do we have to go back the way we came in?”
“That one goes up.”
“Let’s go.”
Strong. She was strong. She didn’t worry about what other people thought of her.
I don’t care.
I don’t care!
I don’t care that the hottest man I’ve met in ten years is following me up a trail while looking at my ass. At least it’s dark.
It wasn’t true. She’d been truthful with him, but she wasn’t being the same with herself, she knew it.
She cared. So much.