“What’s a Molly look like?”
“Oh, you know.” He took a step closer. “Real easy on the eyes. Killer smile.” His eyes dipped lower. “Killer legs.”
Molly chuckled. “That line work
for you? In general, I mean?”
“Every time. Like a charm.”
“Must be the accent.”
“Maybe.” He rolled his neck and then shoulders. “Or maybe I’m just a genuine bloke who has no problem letting a woman know she’s beautiful.” His grin deepened. “Or could be because I’m the only boy in a family of six girls, raised by a single mother to boot.”
“You’re definitely not from around here.”
“What gave that away? The accent?”
“The tattoos.” Molly pointed to the largest one that covered nearly every inch of his chest. “That looks like a coat of arms or something.”
“It is.” He glanced down. “It belongs to my dad’s family. I suppose there’s some old stone manor out on a lake that has a massive tapestry hanging on a prominent wall. The aristocracy do cling to the past like a junkie holds fast to his needle.”
“That’s interesting.” Molly didn’t know what to say, since there was a hint of rancor in his tone.
“Not really. In addition to being an absolute bastard, my dad was actually the bastard of a bastard, and there are still bloodlines across the pond that care about that kind of crap.” He seemed to mentally shake himself. “Anyway. About the dog. I would like her--”
“Him.”
“Him. I’d like to make sure he gets back to where he belongs.”
“Oh. Right.” Molly called Zeus over. “I’m headed back past Nash’s place. I’ll make sure he gets home.”
Link pointed in the direction she’d come from. “You going that way, then?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I join? I’m headed back that way myself.”
The two fell into a comfortable pace somewhere between a heart rate that was brisk and one that allowed for conversation. They didn’t talk about anything deep or life changing. It was more of Molly answering questions about the area and Link giving away as little information about himself as possible. About two miles back up the trail, he came to a stop.
“This is me,” he said, pointing to the large stone post with a plaque embedded in it. Manchester.
“Here?” she asked, more than a little surprised. “I know Beck, the guy that owns it. I didn’t realize he was letting anyone stay here.”
“Not for long,” Link replied, the lightness of their previous conversation all but gone. “At least that’s the plan now, eh? We’ll see what next week brings.” He looked at her for a few more moments and then smiled. “Maybe you can show me around a bit? You know, the local sights. Be my tour guide.”
This man was flirting with her, and Molly wasn’t going to lie—it felt kinda good. He looked like he could be the kind of man to make her forget the one she couldn’t stop thinking about. She needed someone like him. A diversion.
“Maybe,” she replied slowly as a thought struck her. She’d given Kyle the boot Sunday, and that boot included their so-called date floating down the river. “Do you have plans this afternoon?”
His smiled widened. “You asking me on a date?”
“No.” She laughed. “Tour guide, remember? And what better way to see this area than to float down the river? A bunch of us are doing it this afternoon. It’s kind of like a tradition. We tie onto each other like a small armada, and someone has tunes, and we kick back, float, drink some beer, and chill. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Sounds like what I need.” He nodded. “What time are you picking me up?”
“You really want to come?”
“Was the invitation genuine? Or were you just being nice?”