He avoided her with a quick side step. “Molly. No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She sighed and sank to sit on the edge of a bed, not certain her legs—even her good one—would support her any longer. “I guess I was wrong about it being ordinary.”
“I guess you were.”
He was gone before she had another chance to speak. He closed the connecting door firmly between them, and she heard the dead bolt lock on the other side.
Was he locking her out, or himself in? Either way, he’d made it clear that there was more than a door keeping them apart.
Kyle opened his eyes the next morning to the sound of rain drumming against the windows. Perfect, he thought. Lousy weather to go with his lousy mood.
He’d spent the night alternating between urges to walk out of the room and head straight back to Tennessee, leaving Molly to find her own way home, or bursting through that damn connecting door and taking up right where they had left off earlier. Because his conscience wouldn’t allow him either option, he’d spent another near-sleepless night wondering when The Longest Road Trip in Recorded History would end—and whether his sanity would hold out until it was over.
He’d slept finally, only to
have weird dreams he couldn’t really remember when he awoke. He was left with the haunting echo of Tommy McDooley’s distinctive laughter in his ears—which was all he needed to get this day started badly.
He took his time showering, shaving and dressing in the last clean clothes he’d brought with him. He was in no hurry to face Molly again.
In the light of day—even a gray, watery day—he had to ask himself what had gotten into him last night. Had someone spiked the popcorn at the movie theater?
It had been the second time he’d let her goad him into acting without thinking, and this time it had taken him much too long to regain control. Had he not come to his senses at the last possible moment, he might have woken up in her bed this morning.
He was grimly aware of the regret that underscored his relief. It would have been a huge mistake-she was Molly Walker, for Pete’s sake—but judging from their kisses, it would have been amazing.
He called the garage before he made any effort to talk to Molly. He was assured that the part had already been ordered from Little Rock and was expected to arrive before noon—but even then, it wasn’t a quick and easy repair. Even if everything went smoothly, it would be mid to late afternoon before the car would be ready.
Which left almost an entire day for them to kill. There were so many dangers inherent in that situation that he didn’t even want to try to list them all.
The obvious solution was to stay away from her. She had a TV in her room, some books. She could entertain herself for a few hours. He could go hang out at the garage, harass the mechanics into rushing the job. The more he thought about it, the better that plan sounded.
He supposed he should feed her breakfast first. Drawing a deep breath, he tapped on the connecting door, steeling himself for the sight of her. How would she behave with him this morning? Would she be withdrawn, as she had been yesterday morning? Confrontational? Or would she try again to treat him like a favorite brother?
He ruled out the latter the moment she opened the door and smiled at him. This was not a friendly, familial smile. This one had a shy quality to it, overlaid by a new awareness that could only be described as sexual.
“Good morning,” she said, and even her voice had a huskiness that hadn’t been there before.
He should definitely keep his distance from her today. He had already learned all too well that he couldn’t depend on willpower alone to give him the strength to keep his hands off her.
“’Morning. Ready for breakfast?”
“Yes.” She wore the navy-and-lime athletic outfit again. The top looked a bit damp around the seams, and he wondered if she had rinsed it out in her sink the night before. He imagined that she would be as glad to see the ranch as he would. She had to be tired of car rides and motel rooms, fast food and lousy company. “Just let me grab my purse.”
“And your crutches,” he reminded her as he watched her stump across the room. “You’re supposed to keep your weight off that leg as much as possible.”
She sighed heavily. “I hate the crutches.”
“I know. But you need them.”
Slinging the strap to her purse over her shoulder, she balanced on the crutches and moved toward the door. “I hope we can find someplace that serves a big breakfast. I’m really hungry.”
At least somethings hadn’t changed, Kyle thought, following her out of the motel room with a shake of his head.
Despite all the useful things her parents had taught her, and all the fine schooling she’d received, Molly’s education was sadly lacking when it came to the art of flirtation. She sat across the table from Kyle at a pancake restaurant located near the motel and tried her best to think of something clever and witty to say.