Richard raised his eyebrows. “Where’s that youthful wonder? The first snowfall of the year…”
“The disaster transporting students becomes.”
“Tell me you’re not one of the people who decides whether school is going to be canceled.”
Over her shoulder, Molly wrinkled her nose at him. “You mean, one of those people who is on a conference call at 5:00 a.m.? Why, yes, I am.”
His gaze traveled over that luscious body. He wondered if she had any idea how lovingly that pair of faded jeans fit her ass. He even appreciated the big, sacky T-shirt she wore, because it made her more approachable. Her hair was bundled loosely in an elastic, but curly tendrils escaped to lie against her cheek and the nape of her neck. And—oh, damn—she was barefoot. Richard was taken aback to discover how erotic feet could be. As he took a seat and watched her settle into what was obviously a favorite spot at one end of the sofa, he remained fixated on those feet.
They weren’t dainty. She must wear a size nine or ten, but then she was a tall woman. She had particularly narrow feet with high arches and exceptionally long toes. He switched his gaze briefly to her hands and realized her fingers were long, too. As were her legs. He wondered how deft she was with those toes....
He was already aroused. Richard moved in an effort to make himself comfortable and hide his reaction from her.
“I should have offered you coffee before I sat down,” she said suddenly.
He shook his head. “I’m fine. I drink too much of the stuff as it is.”
“Me, too. And waste entirely too much money on lovely, frothy, calorie-laden drinks that may or may not actually be coffee.”
He laughed. “I love that espresso stand on the corner of Wall and Fifth.”
“Oh, yeah. Me, too.” For a moment they smiled at each other, no complications, but finally her expression faltered. “What did you need to talk to me about, Richard?”
He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “I do understand why you’re confused,” he said abruptly. “Or, at least, that you are. Maybe not entirely why, because I’m not a woman and it’s not my daughter who is pregnant.”
She stared at him for a long time, her eyes astonishingly vulnerable, the gray so much softer than it seemed to him at first meeting.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s what I came to say. And to tell you I really will listen if you need to talk any of this out.” Or anything else, but he didn’t say that. “I, uh, didn’t know if you’ve told any friends. If you have anyone else you can vent to.”
“No.” She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t take shape. “No, I haven’t told a soul. I have friends, but…”
When she didn’t finish, Richard broke the silence. “Mine all have kids that are way younger. When I first realized what was going on with Trev, it hit me that I didn’t have anyone to talk about it with.”
Molly nodded. “I’ve gotten close to the mothers of some of Cait’s friends, but right now they’re the last people I want to tell that she’s pregnant.”
“Is she home?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“She’s at the dance school. She assists with a class of younger students.”
It turned out he didn’t have to say much. She started to spill. She hurt at the knowledge that Cait would lose dance, if only temporarily, should she continue the pregnancy. No, she was unlikely to go on professionally with it anyway; she was likely too tall, and she didn’t have the single-mindedness required.
“But she loves it.”
She told him that her daughter wasn’t talking to her. Her face pinched with unhappiness. “It’s not that she’s sulking or anything like that. Not like when she was mad at me over Trevor. She’s just…retreated. Gone deep inside. And…it’s always been the two of us.” She stole a look at him that was both shy and filled with pain. “Now she’s shut me out.”
Richard moved without thinking about it. One minute he was on his side of the living room, the next he’d taken the middle cushion of the sofa and her hand in his. Ms. Molly Callahan wasn’t as tough as she’d appeared. Not even close.
“I’ve been feeling some of that with Trevor,” he said. “It’s not the same because I didn’t have the chance to raise him, but I thought we were tight. Finding out how wrong I was hurt.”
She gave a laugh that wasn’t quite a sob. “And in the middle of all this, I have to ask myself why I’m getting my feelings hurt when my daughter is facing something so life-altering. And mostly it is her I think about, but sometimes…”