Finally a Bride (9 page)

She jammed an elbow into his ribs, and he flopped back onto the blanket, groaning as if in agony. She immediately rolled to her side and leaned over him, her face tight with concern. “Did I hurt you? I’m so—”

Eric pressed his fingers against her lips. “I’m goofing around. Your bony elbow didn’t hurt me.”

She glared at him. “I really miss the days when you were smaller than me.”

“Second grade.”

“Through the end of our sophomore year.”

“I was small,” he admitted, “but not smaller than you. You’re tiny.” But perfect.

“I’m petite,” she corrected him. “Like my mom.”

“I think you’re even shorter than your mom,” he observed.

With disgust, she said, “Rory calls me the runt of the litter now, even though he’s the youngest.”

“Well, you are the smallest McClintock…”

“But I could always take you,” she reminisced.

Eric grinned. “Only because I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh, potty mouth,” he admonished her, as if they were still in second grade. “Do I have to tell your mama that you swore?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she threatened, leaning over him so that their faces nearly bumped. She drew in a breath and straightened up, wrapping her arms around her knees. Clearly there were some things she didn’t dare—like getting within kissing distance of him again. “You’re the secrets keeper.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Seriously,” she persisted, “tell me what’s up with Rory.”

He leaned closer to the fire. “You dry yet?” He knew that only her hair was wet, damp tendrils hanging down her back, since she had changed into her boxer shorts and cami when she’d gone inside the house for food. One of the spaghetti straps of the tank top cut across the spine of the open book that was tattooed on her shoulder blade. He curled his fingers into his palm, so he wouldn’t reach up to trace the outline of it.

“Eric!” she said, her voice sharp with irritation because he wouldn’t satisfy her curiosity about her little brother.

He shook his head. “Since you’re so tough, you’re going to have to beat it out of me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

His skin heated at the intensity of her gaze, as she ran it like a caress over his body. He’d changed into dry jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that he’d left unbuttoned. “Molly…”

She launched herself at him, knocking him back onto the blanket with such force that sand wafted up from beneath it. She leaned across his bare chest and lifted his arms over his head, her hands splayed across his biceps, pinning him down. Then she swung her leg across his. “Say uncle.”

“Uncle…”

She
tsk
ed as if she was disappointed in him. “What kind of Marine are you? To give up without a fight?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. She was right—he had never given up without a fight. But the only thing he wanted to fight with Molly was his attraction to her. And with her body, so soft and curvy, pressed close to his, he couldn’t fight anything.

O
NE MINUTE
M
OLLY
was lying across him and the next Eric had flipped her on her back and pressed her into the sand with his body. Hot and hard against hers.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, but not to push him away. She wanted to pull him closer. But his hands wrapped around her wrists, lifting her arms over her head as he pinned her to the sand.

Molly’s back arched, her breasts pushing against his solid chest. His heart beat fast and furious, in perfect rhythm with hers. “Eric…”

He leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from hers, he murmured, “Say uncle.”

She bucked against him, trying to dislodge him. But he straddled her, so her hips pressed against his. As if there were no clothes between them, as if they were making love…

Eric closed his eyes and uttered a tortured groan. “Say uncle, Molly.”

She bucked again, pressing her breasts and hips against him. This time she groaned, her body aching with an emptiness she suspected only Eric could fill.

He settled more of his weight onto her, so that not even a breath separated his chest from hers. So that his erection, straining against the fly of his jeans, pressed against her.

So that he closed that fraction of space between his mouth and hers and their lips met.

As the door rattled in reaction to a pounding fist, Eric tensed. It was Towers. It had to be. Someone had told him where to find his runaway bride. And he had come to claim her—just as Eric would have if she’d been his.

But she had never really been his. Not even last night.

Fists clenched and ready for a fight, he drew open the door…to Mrs. McClintock. “Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Mick corrected him, patting his cheek as she passed through the doorway. “This is two days in a row I’ve had to wake you two. What are you doing? Staying up all night?”

“Mom!”

Eric turned toward where Molly stood in the shadows of the living room. Wearing only those boxers and a cami, her hair mussed as if she’d just crawled out of bed. If only she had just crawled from his bed instead of Uncle Harold’s…

“Good thing I brought you more clothes,” Mrs. McClintock said as she swung a suitcase toward her daughter. “You don’t seem to have brought much with you.”

“Books,” Eric grunted as he closed his front door and crossed the living room to his bedroom doorway. “She brought books.”

Mrs. McClintock laughed. “She’s Molly. Of course she brought books.”

“She was supposed to be on her honeymoon,” he reminded them—and himself. She was supposed to be married to another man, a man whose ring she still wore. Eric had no right to kiss her, to
want
her.

“Well, I’m not,” Molly said.

“No, you’re not,” Eric agreed. “This is hardly some five-star resort in the Bahamas.”

“Bermuda,” Mrs. McClintock corrected him. “I think that’s the honeymoon Josh intended to surprise you with—after you met up with his parents’ cruise ship, in the Greek Isles.”

“He mentioned his parents’ cruise,” Molly remarked, “but I didn’t know he intended for us to meet up with their ship. And I didn’t know about Bermuda.”

“He wanted the honeymoon to be a surprise,” her mother explained. “Josh Towers seems to be a man full of surprises.”

And money. Bermuda and the Greek islands? Of course, he was a surgeon, rich and successful. He could offer Molly so much more than Eric would ever be able to give her. No wonder she had accepted his proposal—Towers could provide the security she’d lost when her father died.

Eric rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I’m going to take a shower. Nice to see you again, Mrs. McClintock.”

Molly stared at Eric’s broad back as he turned and walked away. A little sigh slipped from between her lips, but she shook her head, dismissing thoughts of what might have been if he hadn’t stopped himself last night.

If her ring hadn’t scratched his back as she’d run her hands beneath his shirt…

Her mom cleared her throat, drawing Molly’s attention. “Now this is the second time I’ve caught you two barely dressed. You honestly don’t expect me to believe that—”

“Nothing happened,” Molly finished the thought for her, then repeated it with more conviction. “Nothing happened.”

Her mother sighed. “That’s too bad. I have always loved that boy, from the first moment his great-uncle brought him home to Cloverville.”

Molly finally realized she always had too—and maybe not just as a friend.

Her mother glanced toward his closed bedroom door and shook her head in wonderment. “Who would have ever guessed that little squirt would grow up to become such a sexy young man?”

“Mom!”

“Don’t sound so shocked, honey. I’m a woman as well as a mother.” The amusement faded from her mother’s face, and she looked away.

“I know you are, Mom.” A beautiful woman, who was still young and vivacious. Molly narrowed her eyes as a suspicion nagged at her. “Mom, is something going on with you?”

Her mother’s slight shoulders lifted in a shrug. Then she turned away, bustling into the kitchen to fiddle with the coffeepot. “You have always needed caffeine to wake up,” she murmured as she filled the pot with water. “Your daddy used to let you sip from his cup when you were little. I warned him that it might stunt your growth.”

“And Dad would say that he hoped I’d stay a pretty pixie just like you,” Molly remembered.

Her mother blinked as if fighting tears. Memories of her late husband still hurt her this much? Molly had done the right thing when she’d decided not to marry for love.

“I could use some coffee,” she said, to ease her mother’s discomfort.

“It would be better if I had fresh beans to grind,” her mother said, her hand trembling as she dumped ground coffee into the filter. “But Eric probably doesn’t have a grinder anyway. Most bachelors don’t think about things like that….”

Molly covered her mother’s hand with hers, steadying them both. “What’s going on, Mom?”

“You haven’t been home much since your father died,” her mother remarked. “You didn’t come home from college as often as Brenna Kelly did.”

“It was too hard.” And not just because her father was gone, but because Eric had been gone, too.

“I miss you,” her mother said. “I don’t know if you’ve made any decisions, but I wish you would stay in Cloverville.”

Molly hadn’t decided that yet. She’d worked so long and so hard to become a doctor. All those late nights studying, all those endless days of classes. Wasn’t she crazy to walk away from a dream—even if it hadn’t been hers?

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll figure it out,” her mom assured her.

She sighed, hoping the older woman was right. “I have decided one thing.”

That she couldn’t stay with Eric any longer. Her attraction to him only added to her confusion. “You didn’t have to bring me more clothes. I’m coming home today, as soon as I get dressed and pack.”

“Oh, honey, you
can’t
come home.”

“What? You just said…”

“That you haven’t been home much. But I understand why,” her mother assured her. “It never really felt much like home after your father died.”

Molly bit her lip, and nodded. “It hasn’t.”

“Sometimes I wish I could have left, too,” her mother admitted. “Maybe I should have sold the house after he died.”

“You’re thinking about selling now?” Was that what was bothering her?

“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.” Her mother squeezed Molly’s hand. “Like you, I guess I needed to do that—to take some time to work things out in my head and in my heart.”

“You’ve been seeing someone,” Molly suddenly realized, her stomach plummeting at the thought of her mother with another man—with
any
man other than her father.

Color flooding her face, Mary McClintock nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s serious?” she asked, grateful her stomach was empty as it lurched again.

Her mother nodded. “He asked me to marry him.”

Molly’s breath escaped in a gasp. “But…”

“But what? You think I’m betraying your father if I marry again?”

“N-no,” Molly stammered, trying to be understanding; trying to be a friend as well as a daughter to her mother. Theirs had always been a close relationship.

“Well, I do.” Mary sighed. “I know in my head that I’m not, that your father would want me to be happy again. But in my heart, I feel like I’m cheating on him—on his memory.”

Molly pulled her mother into a hug. “Daddy’s been gone eight years. You’ve spent all that time alone.”

Mom shook her head, her chin brushing against her daughter’s shoulder. “I wasn’t alone. I had my children. Clayton, you, Colleen…” She pulled back, her mouth stretching into a wide smile. “Rory. But you’re all grown up.”

“Except for Rory.”

“He’s getting there,” Mom defended her baby, just as she always had. That was probably why he was such a spoiled brat.

Molly snorted in derision. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“No, he’s straightening up.”

“You don’t think he’s behind the spiked punch bowl at the wedding?”

Her mother stared at her with suspicion. “How do you know about that?” She smiled as the realization dawned. “You were there. You crashed your own wedding…”

Molly shook her head. “Not the wedding. Just the reception, which I hear you turned into a ‘welcome home, Abby’ party. Clayton must have loved paying for that.”

“I think he loves her,” Mom said.

“You wish. You want Abby as your daughter.”

“She already is, in my heart.”

“And you want Lara as your granddaughter.”

“She already is, too. Clayton’s just scared to take a chance.”

He wasn’t the only one.

“Your brother needs time to come around,” her mom maintained.

“Is that why you don’t want me to come home yet?” Molly asked. “You’re matchmaking again.”

Her mother lifted a brow in question. “Isn’t that what you were up to when you left that note for Abby, asking her not to leave until you came back?”

“Abby’s my friend. I haven’t seen her much since she left Cloverville. I want to spend some time with her.”

“If you’d married Josh, you’d be off on your honeymoon now. You wouldn’t have seen her then, either. And we’ve all visited Abby wherever she’s been over the years. Admit it,” her mother persisted. “You’re doing some matchmaking yourself.”

Molly’s face heated, and she folded at once. “Guilty. I want Abby for a sister and Lara for a niece,” she admitted. “Legally as well as emotionally.”

“That’s not the only matchmaking I suspect you’re doing,” her mother said as she continued to study her daughter.

“Who, me?” Molly widened her eyes in innocence. “Match make?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been reading romance novels since you were eleven.”

Molly nodded. “True.”

“So what are you up to?”

She glanced toward Eric’s bedroom.

“I heard him go out the bedroom slider a while ago,” her mother said. “I don’t think he wanted to intrude on our conversation.”

Or he just wanted to get away from Molly. She suspected the latter. “He moves so quietly,” she commented. Then her skin heated as she thought of the previous night, of wrestling with him on the sand, and she added, “And quickly.”

“Not quick enough,” the older woman retorted.

She hadn’t seen him last night, when he’d effortlessly pinned Molly to the sand. “Oh, you’d be surprised how fast he can move.”

“Mmm, hmm. I’m not buying that nothing happened between the two of you,” her mother insisted. “You’ve always been a lousy liar.”

“Nothing
can
happen between us,” Molly said. “We’re just friends. But I’m afraid that I might wreck that if I keep imposing on him. Eric is used to living by himself, and this house is too small for me to give him the space he needs.”

“But you can’t come home yet, Mol. Abby will leave, and Clayton’s too proud…”

“Too
stubborn,
” Molly corrected her mother, thinking that obstinacy must run in the family genes.

“…to go after her.” Her mom ignored her. “And what about your other matchmaking? Brenna and Josh?”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. Her mother knew her almost as well as Eric did. “He’s a great guy.”

“He’d have to be, for you to accept his proposal.”

Molly’s face heated more. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you brought him to Cloverville. He and Brenna wouldn’t have met without your involvement.”

“I could have just set them up on a date,” Molly remarked.

“Yes, well, that certainly would have been less complicated.”

“But I was being selfish.” She had taken advantage of her friendship with Josh, using him to protect herself.

“You were being a coward.”

“That, too.” Molly sighed. “I thought it would be better to marry a man I didn’t love.”

“That makes no sense, Molly.” Then her mother nodded. “Oh, you didn’t want to wind up like me?”

“You lost it there for a while,” Molly gently reminded her.

“I did,” her mother agreed with a heavy sigh. “Until I remembered what I had—all those wonderful years with your father. I wouldn’t have traded a single one of them.”

“But the way it ended…”

“Was excruciatingly painful for us both,” she admitted. “But it truly is better to have loved and lost…”

“Than to never have loved at all.” Molly sighed. “Like me.”

“Oh, you’ve loved, honey. Just not your fiancé.”

She glanced down at the ring she still wore. “I need to give this back to him.”

“Yes, you do. But not yet. You need to give him and Brenna time to fall in love first.”

Molly thought about their dance at the wedding, the way they had carried the sleeping twins to the car as if the four of them were already a family. She’d called the Kellys to check on Josh and the boys. Mama had assured her that they were all doing better than fine. “I don’t think they’ll need much more time.”

“Give them a week.”

“Will that be enough time for Clayton and Abby, too?” Molly lifted a brow. “He’s stubborn, remember?”

“Yes, he is,” his mother finally admitted. “But he isn’t the most stubborn of my children.
You
are.”

Molly nodded, unable to argue. Her mother and Eric were both right. “I didn’t ask for time alone to figure out whether or not I’m going to get married. I already know that I can’t marry Josh.”

“
Because
you don’t love him.”

“He’s a nice guy. He deserves a woman who does love him.” He deserved Brenna. “I’m using this time to figure out something else.”

“Whether or not you can become a doctor,” her mom finished for her.

“You knew?”

“Yes, I was in the delivery room with Abby,” she reminded Molly. “I saw you pass out. You hit the floor so hard, you put a dent in the linoleum.”

Molly winced. That hadn’t been her finest moment. At least she’d done a little better in medical school, with cadavers, than she had in Abby’s delivery room. “But I’ve worked so long and so hard I can’t just give it all up.”

“But you never really wanted it. You were only becoming a doctor because that’s what you
thought
your father wanted.”

“He did want that,” Molly insisted. Her heart clenched as she remembered all the times she had brought him his meds or fluffed his pillow, and he’d called her Dr. Molly.

Mom shook her head. “No. He only wanted you to be happy.”

Were Eric and her mother right? Would she not be letting down her father if she didn’t go back to medical school? She had time—at least a week—to figure out her life. She concentrated on her mother now.