Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

Molly felt her cheeks color. “Thank you.”

He consulted his phone. “Are you free a week from Thursday for a meeting?”

“I guess that would depend on what we’d be meeting about.”

He practically rolled his eyes at her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this guy. “I’d like to discuss how we might work together on these amazing little things. Get them into the hands of lots of people. What do you call ’em again?” He popped another. Kind of greedy.

“MollyDollys. Wait, so let me make sure I understand this. You’re saying you want to—”

“Mass produce them. But we can discuss the details Monday. You’re interested?”

Was she interested? This was a back handspring kind of moment. She hadn’t done one since she was eighteen, but she was considering it right now. What kind of crazy question was that? “I think I could be interested. I’d like to hear the details though.” Well played, Chocolate Jedi. Don’t show your hand quite yet.

“Perfect. Here’s my card.” She took the glossy green rectangle. “I’ve already taken one of your brochures from the booth. How about we meet at this, uh, little place you have?”

“Sure. We can meet at the little place.” She could put up with his patronizing, big city tone, just as long as he could back up what he was saying. And somehow she had a feeling he could.

They shook hands and Grant Tranton headed off into the hustle and bustle. As he was absorbed into the crowd, Molly couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at the shiny green card. Her heart swelled at just the sight of it.

Good things were starting to happen. Who would have guessed?

*

Celia Green stood at the podium that had been wheeled out onto the bandstand. Most of Applewood had gathered at the base of the stage, and Jordan was wondering why exactly she’d agreed to this. Because it was for a good cause, she reminded herself. She should shut up and be a good sport.

“You all ready to rustle up some more cash for some new books?” Celia called into the microphone. She’d transformed herself from quiet librarian into animated emcee without much difficulty. It was a little frightening. In response to her question, there were some serious hoots and hollers from the crowd. It was pretty clear that the alcohol was now flowing as the festival moved into the later stages of the evening. Tipsy townsfolk yielding money wasn’t a bad combination as far as charity was concerned.

Celia continued. “Next up for auction is one of Applewood’s homegrown favorites. Jordan Tuscana is now a famous moviemaker, who’s making our small city proud. The winning bidder gets three hours of around the house handiwork from Jordan, who from what I hear is handy in more ways than one.”

What in the hell? Perhaps Celia had indulged in an adult beverage or two herself. Or maybe she just wanted to spice up the bidding. Jordan began to understand her role and smiled widely as she joined Celia onstage.

“I’ll start the bidding at seventy-five dollars. Who will give me seventy-five for Jordan?”

“Seventy-five,” called a familiar voice from the left side of the crowd. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, who grinned proudly up at her. Oh no. This was not good. She didn’t even want to entertain what sort of hazing Mikey would have in store for her if he won.

“A hundred,” called Mr. Huskill, her parents’ elderly neighbor. She blew out a breath in relief. This was good. If he won, they’d probably spend the time over a game of chess and some coffee. She decided to root for him. Go, Mr. Huskill. The odds were on her side, as Mikey wouldn’t want to go over a hundred.

But damn it all, in a shocking turn of events, he countered. “One fifty.”

She shot a warning glare at her brother, who was enjoying this way too much. She would pummel him later.

“One seventy-five.” That’s right, Mr. Huskill, take that guy down. You got this.

Mikey lifted his ball cap. “Two hundred. My floor needs some washing with a toothbrush.”

Oh no. He was kidding. He had to be kidding. Seriously, someone had to put a stop to this. But Mr. Huskill wasn’t saying anything. In fact, Mr. Huskill was tragically silent. He was some distance away from Jordan, but she did her best to give him her puppy dog eyes. Anything to keep her out of the hands of her merciless big brother.

“Two twenty-five,” a female voice called out. Jordan swiveled and Summer smiled up at her from a few rows in. This was good. Summer would flirt with her mercilessly, but she’d be kind. She’d be hospitable. There would be no torture or humiliation involved.

“Two twenty-five going once.” Celia surveyed the crowd. “Going twice.” She pointed her gavel at Summer. “Going three times and—”

“Three hundred.” The bid came from the back of the crowd, but Jordan knew without looking. She located Molly, who calmly held Celia’s gaze, at the edge of the lawn. The crowd seemed to enjoy the new development and murmurs of “uh oh” and “Mikey’s got a sidekick” rippled down to the front row. If the town thought Molly was in cahoots with her brother, it made the scenario all the more perfect. But Jordan knew differently and the secret she shared with Molly made things exceptionally alluring.

“Three hundred going once, twice, and sold to one Molly O’Brien. Sorry, Jordan. There’s no telling what lies in store for you.”

She tried her best to look appropriately nervous. “I can hardly wait to find out.”

*

Several hours later and Molly, once again, couldn’t sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned and marinated on the events of the day. There was the fun she’d had at the booth with her coworkers. The fact that they’d sold out of MollyDollys hours in advance of the close of the festival. The unexpected meeting with Grant Tranton that could lead to so much more. And of course, tucked in the middle of all of that had been her interlude with Jordan.

And let’s be honest, she’d surprised even herself with that impulsive bid.

The slash of jealousy that had cut across her at the thought of Summer spending hours of downtime with Jordan took precedence over her more reasonable side. Her bank account couldn’t really take the hit, but she’d figure out the logistics later, which seemed to be how she was operating most of her life these days. Without a net.

She hadn’t seen Jordan after the auction. She’d slipped away on purpose, helping with the last of the booth cleanup before heading for home. The heat between them had been unmistakable that night, and she didn’t want to do something she’d regret later.

Her feelings for Jordan were complicated.

And she’d have to sort them out in due time. But what was wrong with enjoying whatever this was for a little while first? She didn’t consider herself a selfish person, so for once, she’d like to do something just because she wanted to.

One thing was for sure when it came to Jordan. She had a way of creeping into Molly’s thoughts with a persistence unlike any other.

Like now.

Their tryst in the funhouse had rocked her in a way she hadn’t been prepared for, and as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her body latched on to the memory of Jordan pressed up against her, all soft and demanding at the same time. She’d worn shorts and a tank top to bed, but as the memory took over, the covers were becoming too much. She threw them off of her and let the cool air move across her skin as her mind continued its very detailed recollection. She closed her eyes and let the movie play on as the rest of her responded with a slow burn. God.

There was a clinking sound.

She turned onto her side, and resumed her daydream, chalking it up to her aging house.

But there was that sound again.