Chapter 18

They’d had a finger-tangly Sunday morning, eating breakfast down by the dock before making love in the boathouse. Making love. The words made Molly want to giggle almost as much as she wanted to wrap herself up in them forever.

She’d had sex. Done it. Screwed and fucked.

But not until Sean had laid her out beneath the pale moonlight the night before had she made love. And it was something different. Special. Addictive.

The afternoon had come way too soon. Sean had driven them back to the city, and despite his attempts to convince her to let him stay at her place or have her come back to his, Molly remained strong. She never knew when she was going to wake up to her brother in her living room—though that didn’t seem to happen much now that he was with Sarah—or Brody riding by after spending the night with his current flame. Besides, she was supposed to meet the girls for breakfast the next morning, and the rest of the week was going to be nuts as she made up for the days she’d taken off from three jobs. She’d need the sleep.

But more than that, there was the whole not-letting-herself-get-too-comfortable thing. She couldn’t get used to spending every night in Sean’s arms if she didn’t spend every night there, right?

So, hard as it was, Molly had said goodbye to Sean in her apartment, agreed to another getaway the next weekend, and then watched from her front window as he’d driven off.

When things ended and Sean realized that as much fun as they’d been having, he really did want a different life than he could have with her, no one would know how deeply that hurt cut. No one would know what a fool she’d been.

Except, what if she wasn’t a fool? What if Sean wasn’t going to realize he wanted something else? What if this was it?

It was a hope too terrifying to let herself have. And yet…each time he looked into her eyes, it was getting harder and harder to keep that hope at bay.

* * *

The next days passed in a blur of extended shifts and made-up hours. Molly wouldn’t have given up her time with Sean for anything, but there was a price to pay, and by the time Wednesday night at Belfast rolled around, she was feeling the toll.

“How late you working tonight, Moll?” Max asked, sliding onto his seat at their usual table. Tonight, it was just Max, Brody, and Sean. Jase and Emily had her parents visiting, and Sarah was caught up in some project back at Wyse.

Setting the last of the drink orders down, Molly tried not to grimace when she answered. “Closing. Few hours left.”

“Baby sister’s making bank,” Max sang, the pride in his eyes something she could feel.

Exactly. She was so close to having the down payment for the building. Another few months, if she stayed on track with her budget and maintained her current income.

Sean shifted in his chair, a furrow digging between his brows. “But, uhh, Molly, weren’t you cleaning houses from eight until two? And working on the web stuff until you started your shift here at four?”

For a minute, she didn’t know what to do beyond blink at him. Because not only was that a lot of information about her schedule for a just friend to have, but also what the heck was he doing, offering up something to say about it? Someone was going to notice. Someone was going to figure out what was going on with them and—

Max looked from her to Sean.

He knew.

“Sean, you want some nachos? I’m fucking hungry.”

Molly’s breath leaked out as Sean shrugged his agreement. Okay, so he didn’t know.

“Great, nachos.” Molly entered the order, stifling a yawn. “Max, you want the peppers this time or not?” Sarah didn’t like them, but since she was working late, it was worth checking.

“Nah, skip ’em. Sarah said she’d try to stop by.”

Molly nodded and checked on a few other tables. When she circled back to her order station, Sean was there. Leaning against the bar, resting back on his elbows as he watched her fill her tray with drinks.

“Moll, you gotta be dead on your feet. The crowd’s pretty light tonight. Let me take you home.”

Home sounded so good. And Sean taking her there even better. But she’d known what taking the weekend off would mean. “It’s only a couple more hours. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but you’d be better getting some sleep. You know Brody would let you go. Or I could talk to him.”

She shot him a look, a smile creeping across her lips. “You could talk to him? That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. Going to do that after you have a chat with Max about how creaky my bed is?”

He pushed a hand back through his hair, looking out over the crowd. “Okay, you could talk to him.”

She wanted to snuggle into his side. Rest her head on his shoulder and just soak up his sweet intentions. But more than that, she wanted to clock the hours and make the tips that staying until close would get her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be good. Now go back to your table.”

The guys stayed for another hour, but then Sarah texted Max to let him know she was wiped and going straight home, so it was time to call it a night. Molly had wanted to steal a moment in the back hall with Sean before he left, but a couple of big groups came in, and all she’d been able to manage was a wave from across the bar as he was leaving.

No big deal. Not really.

Three and a half hours later, Molly’s brain and body were completely fried. And apparently, she looked it too, because Brody insisted on giving her a lift. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she thought about what she’d meet at the top.

An empty apartment.

A lonely bed.

Brody had already pulled away. She could get an Uber and go over to Wyse. But as incredibly tempting as the idea of crawling into bed with Sean was, she couldn’t do it without waking him up. Heck, she’d have to have them call up from the front desk—not exactly discreet. And then once she was there, the poor guy wouldn’t even be able to go back to sleep.

Giving in to a heavy, sulky sigh, she started up the stairs, resigned to a night alone.

She let herself into the apartment but stalled in her steps before the door closed behind her.

“Sean?” she asked, stunned to see him sitting on her couch, his laptop open in front of him, papers and files spread on the cushions and table. Closing the laptop with a weary smile, he stood.

“Hey, beautiful. You made it, huh?”

Dropping her bag, she walked into his arms, something powerful welling in her chest.

“Barely. What are you doing here?”

“I felt crappy about you having to work so hard to make up for our weekend. Wanted to do something nice for you.”

She peered past his shoulder to the makeshift office he’d set up. “A show of solidarity?”

“Figured I’d get some work done tonight and sleep in a little tomorrow. And I didn’t want to fall asleep and then wake up when you got here.”

“I know I said I didn’t want you to stay over, but you can’t even imagine how glad I am you’re here.”

“Yeah?” he asked against the top of her head.

“Yeah.”

Sean tipped her head back to meet her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love nothing more than to fall asleep with you in my arms. And no way will I turn it down. But my plan was more about you falling asleep beneath my hands.” He led her back to her bedroom and waved her inside.

“What is all this?” she asked, taking in the assortment of bottles, candles, and small tubs laid out on the nightstand beside her bed. He’d taken the comforter off and spread out an enormous bath sheet for her to lie on.

“I figured your muscles could use a break and maybe a little attention too. It just so happens, I’ve got an in with the spa at Wyse.”

It was quite possibly the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. And Molly found herself blinking back tears.

Then Sean was helping her out of her jacket and stripping off her T-shirt and denim skirt.

When she was in nothing but her panties, she crawled onto the bed and stretched out facedown.

From a basket next to the bed, Sean pulled out a hot towel, which he pressed into her back, letting the wet heat soak into her skin. The mattress dipped, and she heard him rustling through containers on the bedside table. A moment later, he removed the towel, and those strong, capable hands were rubbing some kind of lavender-scented oil or cream into her tired muscles.

It was pure bliss. A kind of luxury she never indulged in, couldn’t justify.

“You’ll tell me if this is too hard,” he said, his voice low, close to her ear.

“No,” she moaned. “It’s perfect. So good.”

He worked her shoulders and arms, her neck and lower back. Every muscle getting spoiled by his thorough attention.

“Just fall asleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up, if you want me to be.”

Molly rolled over and reached for her favorite gap between the buttons of his shirt.

“Molly, this is for you. I just want make you feel good.”

God, she loved him. And tonight, she didn’t even care what a mistake that might be.

Tugging him closer, she whispered against his lips, “Then make me feel good.”

* * *

There was something to be said for sleeping in. Sean didn’t do it often, but having planned for it this morning, he couldn’t even feel guilty about lying there with Molly’s perfect body cuddling in close to him, the minutes ticking past as he watched her sleep.

He could get used to this.

He wanted to get used to this if she would just let him.

Burrowing deeper into his side, she let out a soft moan. It wasn’t the same as the ones he’d wrung from her the night before—but the sleepy, contented quality might be even better.

Her head lifted, and she squinted up at him through a fall of white blond and hot pink.

“Morning, beautiful,” he greeted her, gently brushing her hair from her eyes.

She crawled over him and collapsed across his chest, dropping a single groggy kiss at his nipple. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.”

Her head popped up, brows high. “Wow, you really did sleep in.”

“Mmm. How about I buy you some breakfast at S&G?”

Pushing up from his chest, she backed off the bed. “Can’t. I’ve got a two-bedroom I need to start in an hour and a three-bedroom after that.”

Sean sat up and reached for her hand. Tugging her back down on the bed, he leaned over her. “You’re working too hard, Molly. You can’t keep this up.”

He was all for hard work. He respected the hell out of it, and no one worked harder than he did. But Molly wasn’t just running desk duty. She was physically laboring, sometimes for sixteen hours a day.

“Spoiler alert, I can.” She laughed, palming his chest to give him a little shove.

He didn’t budge. “I’m serious.”

That pretty laugh died on her lips, and suddenly, he was staring down at the stubborn mule his best friend could be. “So am I, Sean. I’ve got a couple of long days ahead, and sure, I was beat last night, but I can handle it. I have before, and I will again.”

Shaking his head, he backed off, giving her room to get up. “Okay, I know you can handle it. But Molly…if this is what catching up after a weekend away looks like, are you even sure you want to go away again next weekend?”

Molly looked back over her shoulder, doubt digging a tiny line between her brows. “Don’t you?”

Shit. He was off the bed and turning her around in a blink. “You know I want every minute I can get with you. And since you aren’t ready to go public yet, next weekend is pretty much all I’ve been thinking about since we got back last weekend. I just don’t like seeing what you have to do to make it work.”

Pushing to her toes, she kissed his chin. “Just the cost of quality time these days.”

He wagged his head to the side. “I guess what I’m saying is maybe it shouldn’t be.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked, pulling on a pair of his old sweats and a Wyse T-shirt.

Jesus, she was wearing his old sweats—he gulped—with no panties underneath. That was so hot. “It means tell me what you’re making cleaning condos and managing Belfast, and I’ll get you a job at Wyse that pays more, with half the hours.”

The air changed, a tension-filled silence suddenly accumulating between them. Uh-oh. Mentally backtracking through his words, he came up empty. “What?”

“Just going to hand me a job, Sean? Stick me in some made-up position? I have zero experience or education in the hospitality industry, so it would have to be. Cut me a check every two weeks for services rendered?”

Ahh. Right. Yeah, now he got it. “Molly, it’s not like that.”

“No, it’s not. Look, I’ve got a tidy little business going with this housekeeping thing.”

“Exactly. Hire more staff, and then you can step back from the hands-on work.”

“I don’t need to step back. I don’t want to. I want the income. Because every dollar I earn brings me closer to getting my name on the mortgage for this building.”

The building.

He knew she was slowly getting closer to having the down payment for the place. And he knew with the way she’d grown up—with the day-to-day uncertainty of whether she’d have a place to sleep that night—ownership and having a steady stream, or even better, multiple streams of income was important to her. He got it.

But she didn’t need to break her back to make it happen.

“So why not take a job at Wyse and keep building your website and housekeeping businesses on the side? You don’t have to be the one actually down on your knees scrubbing the baseboards.”

Molly threw up her hands and stalked into the bathroom.

Fluent in Molly-speak, he recognized the nonanswer for what it was: end of discussion.

Only that was bullshit. He had a legitimate suggestion. One he was smart enough to know he’d have to wait a couple of days before bringing up again.

He pulled on his jeans and followed Molly into her bathroom. “You have time for a lunch break at least? I could meet you somewhere.”

She spit out her toothpaste and wiped her mouth before turning so her hip was propped against the counter. “I could do lunch. But won’t you be busy making up for your morning off?”

Normally, he would. But after going from having Molly all to himself for the whole weekend to barely seeing her once they got back, the work could wait.

He’d have plenty of hours to get caught up while she worked the closing shift at Belfast that night too.

“I’ll work when you work.” And damn, what a difference saying the right thing instead of the wrong made. Because then Molly was looking at him with those eyes that had gotten him into the best kind of trouble. She stepped into his space and let her fingers trail along his still half-open denim fly.

“That’s kind of hot,” she murmured softly.

Not as hot as she was, swimming in his clothes. Or better still, him peeling her out of them.

Taking her by the waist, he popped her up on the counter and went for the Wyse T-shirt first. “I’ll show you hot.”