Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

“It is. I’ll put in another twenty minutes or so before I lose the light entirely and then we can reconvene…maybe tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect. There’s a spare key under the mat if you’d like more forgotten lemonade. You’re also welcome to store those tools here so you don’t have to lug them back and forth.”

Jordan looked at her like she was crazy.

“What?”

“You keep your key under the mat? Tricky.”

“Look around, smart aleck. This isn’t exactly the hood. I think we’re safe.”

“Famous last words.” Molly shot her a look that meant business and Jordan held up her hands in acquiescence. “But it’s your place.”

“Thank you for getting that. Very perceptive of you. Any last minute advice?”

Jordan thought for a moment. “Take it for what it is. A first date. If it goes well, fantastic. If not, you’ve lost nothing.”

She tilted her head to the side, seeming to take in the words. “Got it. Nothing to lose. I’ll remember that. See ya, Jordan.” She exhaled slowly as she descended the steps, her stomach already a series of butterfly races at the prospect of the evening ahead of her. “Wish me luck.”

Jordan stared at her, that unreadable, odd expression back on her face. “You don’t need it.”

*

Once Molly’s car disappeared from sight, Jordan set back to work sanding the last shutter and trying hard not to think about the reaction she’d just had to Molly as she emerged from the house. It was an adolescent aftershock of a schoolgirl crush that never should have been. Plus, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was Molly, and everything to do with the fact that a beautiful woman, any beautiful woman, had just walked out of that house.

Of course she’d noticed her. She wasn’t dead.

She worked until the darkness enveloped her, stored her supplies in Molly’s garage, and headed home…after one last glass of killer lemonade.

*

The lodge was beyond bustling when Molly walked in. Nicely dressed folks chatted animatedly with one another as they waited for a table in the entryway to the restaurant. There wasn’t a ton of space to walk, and Molly now had regrets about the way they’d arranged to meet. How exactly was she supposed to find her date, Heather McLucken, the tax attorney? She studied the faces of those around her for any sign of dexterity with numbers. Unfortunately, no one was exactly walking the restaurant with an adding machine and a W4. Typical. It was then that someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Excuse me. You wouldn’t happen to be Molly, would you?”

Saved. “I am, yes. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Heather McLucken.”

Molly accepted the woman’s extended hand and smiled widely. Heather was striking. A tall blonde with twinkly green eyes and a warm smile. Tonight might not be so bad after all. She felt herself perk up almost instantly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Molly O’Brien.”

Heather squeezed her hand, her eyes lingering on Molly’s for just the right amount of time for Molly to momentarily lose herself in their impressive shade. Suddenly she was so looking forward to dinner.

“Shall we? I think they have our table waiting. I pulled some strings and got us seated in a quieter part of the restaurant so we can get to know each other. I hope that’s okay.”

“It sounds fantastic. Thank you.”

As Molly moved toward the main dining area of the restaurant, Heather opened the door for her, earning a thousand points for good manners. She began brainstorming ways to thank Eden for this. A hug. A day off. An entire tray of truffles. Her firstborn.

As dinner got underway, things only seemed to get better. The conversation flowed easily, and Molly noticed that the faux confidence she had initially put forth was starting to feel authentic. It was actually kind of fun, this dating thing. Why had she held off for so long?

Heather took a delicate and rather sexy sip of her wine. “How’s your food? The chef here is one of the best in the state.”

“I’d have to say that’s evidenced here. The chicken’s cooked to perfection and the marinade accentuates the flavors nicely without overpowering. I’m kind of in heaven over here.”

Heather leaned her chin onto her palm. “I like the way you talk about food. I’m told you own a bakery.”

“That’s right. It’s just a small little place in Applewood, but people seem to like it.”

Heather nodded and covered Molly’s hand with her own. “I hope I’ll get to check it out sometime.”

Molly’s heart rate noticeably sped up. Me too, Heather-the-tax-attorney. Me too. “Well, you’re welcome anytime. What about you? You must be thrilled now that tax season’s over.”

“Well, with the exception of all of the extensions we’ve filed, sure. I’m thinking that by next week—I’m sorry.” She held up one finger. “Can we pause this for a minute? I’m getting a call that might be important. So rude, but I need to take it.”

“Oh, of course. Go right ahead. I can wait. Don’t mind waiting.” So she was a babbling fool, but Heather was attractive and charming and well-spoken. Who wouldn’t have been?

It was then that Heather pressed a button on her phone and switched into take-charge mode. “Hi, Sal, yeah, I need in on the Celtics/Knicks action. I’ll take the Celtics for a dime.” Pause. She looked furious. “Just extend my credit, you asshole! I’m good for it. Don’t do this to me, Sal.” Pause. “Forget it. I’ll call Jimmy. Oh, and, Sal? Fuck you .” She placed the phone back in her purse, turned back to Molly, and assumed the same serene smile from several moments prior. “Anyway. Yes, next week will be about tying up loose ends at the office.”

Molly tried to pick up the conversation, really she did, but the person she’d just watched take that call was pretty much terrifying and not at all who she’d just had dinner with. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get off topic”—she gestured tentatively to the phone—“but is everything all right?”

Heather sighed. “It will be in a minute. Do you mind if I just…” She picked up her phone and pointed before proceeding to dial.

Molly raised her eyebrows and slowly went back to her chicken, doing her damndest to ignore the incredibly loud warning sirens going off in her head.

“Sammy, it’s Heather. I need the Celtics for a dime. You know what, on second thought, make it three.” Pause. “You’re the greatest. Just put it on my tab. I can settle with you in a week or so. I should have some cash coming in if all goes well with the playoffs on Sunday. Ciao.” She leaned into Molly and practically purred. “Now where were we?

Molly shook her head slowly in wonder. “I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Are you into…gambling?”

Heather held her thumb and forefinger close together. “A minor hobby. Excuse me, sir?” she asked a passing busboy. “Can you get me the Lakers score?”

He leaned in discreetly. “Two minutes ago they were down by twelve.”

“Damn it!” she screamed at the room in general, inciting several glares from nearby tables. She grabbed for her phone and dialed angrily. “Bobby, can you get me the halftime betting lines? Now, asshole!” Molly wanted to die. To crawl under the table and die. Instead, she signaled the waiter for the check.

As she signed the credit card slip for both of their meals, Heather leaned in flirtatiously. “So explain to me how a woman as attractive and seemingly intelligent as you is still single?”

Molly sighed and set down the pen. “You know what? Single’s not so bad.”

Later that night, as Molly replayed the details of the date that had gone so terribly wrong, she wondered if it was some sort of sign that it was a bad idea. And for whatever reason, there was comfort in that. Her life wasn’t so bad, she reminded herself. She had her routine, her small group of friends and her family. That should be enough.