Molly picked up a glob of cheesy fries and pushed it into her mouth with a satisfied grin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged this way – or why she’d abstained. They were so good. “Mmmm …” She smiled at Vicky.

Vicky had one eyebrow raised. “I’ve never seen you eat with your fingers like that. I think I may have unleashed a beast …”

Molly licked each finger, smacking her lips as she went. “Yum.”

Vicky laughed. “Okay, well – we’ve had pizza, hot dogs and cheese fries. Next you’ll be asking for ice cream and chocolate cake …”

“You bet. That is a great idea.”

“Are you pre-menstrual?”

Molly burst out laughing. “Why did you ask that?”

“The way you’re eating. You’re usually so picky and well-mannered.”

“Not today. You’ve shown me the light.” She pushed her glasses up.

“I don’t know if I can really take all the credit, I think the sugar-high you’re on from that enormous slushy probably has something to do with it.” Vicky’s eyes narrowed and she rubbed her stomach gingerly. “And I’m not sure that hot dog was entirely fresh.”

“I’m not just talking about the food – I’m referring to our discussion earlier. I guess I don’t let myself dwell too much on finding someone to share my life with … but you’re probably right. The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not very likely now, is it? So why bother watching my figure, or using manners when I eat? If I’m going to die old and alone, I can be as disgusting as I want.”

Vicky took a long slow breath and reached for her bowling ball as it popped out of the return machine. “You can stop talking now. You’re depressing me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think of you that way, I’m just talking about myself. You’re so sweet and quirky – I know you’ll find someone. But me …”

“Did I tell you about my date last night?” asked Vicky. She hurled the ball down the alley – bouncing it right into the gutter. She faced Molly with a frown, sat beside her and reached for a cheesy fry.

“No, you didn’t. How’d it go?”

“It was a disaster.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who was it again – that scientist guy from FindYourDate.com?”

She nodded, her nose wrinkling. “Yes. Suffice it to say, I developed a great relationship with the back of his iPhone.” She rolled her green eyes.

Molly groaned. “Oh no. Maybe the next one will be the one.” She looked at her feet, shifting them around on the polished wood. “This floor is really slippery. I know these shoes are rentals, but they don’t have much traction.”

“They’re the same ones everyone wears – I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Vicky leaned over to examine her own shoes and made a face. “Seriously, I think everyone in the entire world has worn these exact shoes. I’m probably going to contract bubonic plague or something.”

Molly laughed. “I don’t think that exists anymore.”

“But if it does, it’ll be in these shoes.”

Molly glanced around the bowling alley and rubbed her full stomach. “I don’t think I could eat another bite … wait, is that …?”

“Who?” asked Vicky, her eyes narrowing.

“In the next lane over … is that the fireman who carried me out of the building?” It was! Her stomach did a flip and her cheeks flamed as she recognized him. He hadn’t spotted her, but she wouldn’t forget that face in a hurry. She scooted down in her seat and raised a hand to shield her face.

Vicky studied the two men bowling beside them. “I think you’re right. What do you want to do?”

“Shhh.” Molly waved her hand. “Don’t let him see you.”

Vicky put her hand on her hip. “This is ridiculous. You can’t really hide – he’s only a few feet away.”

Molly took a slow breath. “You’re right. And why should I hide? He’s the one who was rude, not me.”

“Actually …”

Molly scowled. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours! Of course!” Vicky’s smile was cartoonish. “Hey, he’s even cuter than I remembered.”

“Hmph! I don’t care how cute he is. He’s completely arrogant.”

“Oooh, sounds like my type.” Vicky smiled. “So come on – it’s your turn to bowl. Don’t let the mean nasty ol’ firefighter scare you.” She chuckled and sat beside Molly, pulling a Red Vine from the packet on the table and chewing it absently.

Molly stood with a frown, pushing her shoulders back. Vicky was right – they’d come to bowl and have fun, and she wasn’t going to let a self-important jerk like … well, she didn’t know his name, but regardless, she wasn’t going to let him interfere with her evening. She picked up her bowling ball, stepped forward and raised it in the air, her eyes fixed on the pins at the end of the alley. She shimmied her feet back and forth, frowning at the slickness of the floor.

She sensed the fireman’s eyes on her and her head began to spin. Did he recognize her? Never mind, she’d show him by pulling off her first-ever perfect strike. She could feel it bubbling up within her, the ability to send the ball gracefully and accurately down the alley and into the pins. She visualized it in her mind’s eye – it’d be amazing. She’d be amazing. He’d be so impressed, he’d completely regret how he’d treated her and view her with newfound respect. She smiled slightly, stepped forward.

“Hey, Miss Georgia Times!”

Her eyes widened, her hand flew upward, the ball sailed high and her feet slipped out from under her. She fell flat on her back, her legs up in the air and her hair billowing out around her head like a blooming flower. She coughed as the force of her landing knocked the wind from her lungs. Her bowling ball crashed onto the floorboards, the sound echoing through the cavernous room. She stared up at the ceiling as pain radiated through the back of her head where it had hit the hard floor.

Just then, her view of the ceiling was blocked by an annoyingly handsome face and a heart-thumping smile. “Are you okay?”

She felt the back of her head with one hand, her eyes narrowing. “I think so. Ugh – that hurt.”

He offered her his hand, pulled her gently to her feet, then helped her to a chair.

Vicky fussed around her. “Wow – Molly, are you injured?”

She glanced at the man, who had that glint in his eyes again, the one that told her he was laughing at her on the inside. She frowned. “I’m fine. Thank you … sir.”

He chuckled. “Sir? You don’t recognize me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, I do. You’re the jerk who carried me out of my office – and made me miss my deadline.”

He studied her through narrowed eyes. “The way I see it, I saved your life. That’s a little more important than your deadline.”

She couldn’t fault him for that. Perhaps she had been in the wrong, a little. “Well … thank you.” She rubbed the back of her head.

He smiled, his cheeks dimpling, and her heart skipped a beat. “You’re welcome. So can I ask your name, Miss Georgia Times?”

She stuck out her hand. “Molly Beluga.”

He shook it slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Beluga?”

“Yes, sir. And you are?”

“Uh … Tim.”

She chuckled, smiling prettily. “Is that your full name, Uh Tim?” Why was she flirting with him? She couldn’t stand him! He was full of himself, and rude, and…

“Tim … Holden.”

“Holden?” Her stomach twisted into a knot. “Of the Atlanta Chronicle Holdens?”

“Uh … yes and no …”

Molly scowled, then forced a cynical smile. “So pleased to meet you, Tim. At least now I know how I got scooped.”

“So I guess we should hate each other, then,” said Tim with a smile. “Though if you were scooped, it had nothing to do with me. I don’t work for the Chron.” He was still coming to terms with the woman he’d carried from the Times Building being Molly Beluga.

He recognized her now, though he hadn’t seen a photograph of her since they were teenagers. Back then she was gangly with oversized glasses and a plethora of acne. She still wore glasses – smaller, more fashionable ones – but the zits had given way to a peaches-and-cream complexion that had no need for makeup. Her long dark hair fell around her face in soft curls, and her slim legs were offset by a curvy figure which he was acutely aware of in that moment.

“We should despise each other. Definitely.” But she didn’t sound convinced, and her cheeks flushed pink as she said it.

He glanced up to see Molly’s friend in deep conversation with Callum by the snack bar. He frowned – it didn’t look like Callum was coming back to finish their game anytime soon. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked Molly. He had to say something – the way she was looking at him made his heart skip. She was dressed more casually than she had been at the office – jeans and a pale blue T-shirt – and the way the jeans hugged her curves suited her.

“That would be great, thanks. I’ve eaten my weight in pizza and I could really do with a Sprite.”

He offered her a mock salute and stood.

“Do you think it’s against the rules for us to talk like this?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, for sure. We’re being very bad.” He grinned mischievously and headed for the snack bar, where he ordered them both drinks and beckoned Callum over. “Are you gonna finish our game?”

“Yep. Just getting to know … Vicky here.” Callum grinned. “She’s nice. And I thought you might like some space with your friend over there.”

“My ‘friend,’ as you put it, is the woman I carried from the Times Building today.”

Callum’s eyes widened. He glanced past Tim to take another look. “Wow. She’s beautiful. You didn’t mention that.”

Tim’s lips pursed. “Yeah. And her name is Molly Beluga.”

“Should that mean something to me?”

Tim chuckled. “Only that she’s the daughter of my father’s most hated nemesis. Not to mention that our grandfathers despised each other for years – still do. You know my family owns the Chronicle?”

Callum nodded.

“Well, our grandfathers were best friends and worked together on the Chron back in the 1950s. When my grandfather took it over, hers left and started the Georgia Times, and since then both papers have done everything they could to undermine each other, scoop stories, steal sources, poach staff … let’s just say, our families hate each other and have for a very long time.”

Callum shook his head. “Well, that’s a dang shame. Because I saw the way you were looking at her and I haven’t seen you connect with someone like that since I’ve known you. She might just be the one – you know, for our bet? Do you think you two could be the bridge that makes the families come together?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Tim frowned. “No. And I don’t think we have a connection. She hates me, and with good reason –everyone was laughing at her today because of me.”

Callum grimaced. “I’ll admit, it’s not a great start, but you could get past that. Look at it this way – you two have a lot more in common than you realized. I’ll give you some space – why don’t you have a conversation with her and see where it goes?”

The server placed the drinks on the bar beside Tim and left with a nod. He picked them up and studied Molly across the room. “Fine. I’ll talk with her. But don’t go anywhere – if she attacks me, jump in and lend a hand.” He headed back to where Molly stood, Callum’s chuckles echoing behind him.

She was studying each bowling ball on the rack, picking them up and putting them back, her brow furrowed as though her choice would change the course of history. He set the drinks down, sat, crossed his legs and reached for his glass. “You gonna bowl?” he asked, trying hard to suppress a smile as the memory of her last attempt flashed before his eyes.

She frowned at him. “Yes. I’m really not so bad at it – you just startled me is all.”

Tim chuckled. “It was my fault, huh? Let’s see you do better, then. And this time I promise to keep quiet.”

They finished their games a half-hour later. Molly sat beside Tim with a sigh and rubbed her thigh. “I think I pulled a muscle,” she groaned.

He laughed. “The way you play, I’m not surprised.”

She playfully swatted his arm. “Watch it. I’m sure you think I’m out of shape, Mr. Bulging Muscles, but I’ll have you know I run every day.”

He chuckled. “You do?”

She huffed in that way that made him want to laugh, but he covered it with a cough. “I do. I have a dog, and she makes me go out every day whether I want to or not. I used to walk, but since she got bigger, all she wants to do is run and I don’t have the strength to fight her.”

He bit his lower lip. “I’d pay money to see that.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “You really are a jerk, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Only on days ending in ‘y’. What kind of dog?”

Her eyes lit up. “Daisy’s a golden Labrador – well, a yellow lab mixed with a golden retriever, which is officially a Goldador, but come on, that name is so Lord of the Rings and no one knows what I’m talking about, so I call her a golden Lab …”

“She sounds great. Labs and retrievers are the best kind of dogs. I had a chocolate Lab for fifteen years, but he died last year.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “We had a good run together. I miss Duke – hiking and camping with him in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I’ll get another dog one day, but I just haven’t had it in me to do that yet.”

“I love dogs.”

“Me too.” He studied her beneath half-lidded eyes. She was different than he’d thought. And she loved dogs, so she couldn’t be all bad. He’d made a point of avoiding relationships with anyone in the media, especially print journalists – they were always so driven, with the desire to “get the story” taking all their attention. But perhaps she could be the woman to make him five hundred dollars and put Callum in his place. It’d be worth it. “So you’re a journalist, then?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, I am.”

“My dad wanted me to do that – the whole newspaper thing – but I didn’t want to get sucked into that world. It seems like it consumes people – at least in my family it does.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean. My grandfather and my father have both given their lives to the Times. Dad still runs the place, my sister is being groomed to take over, and they give almost every waking hour to it.”

“No plans for world domination, then?” he asked, taking another sip of Sprite.

She shook her head. “No. I like being a journalist, chasing down a story and finding the truth, but I hate the office politics. And when the editor – my sister – decides to bury a story, or not follow it up because it doesn’t sell … that really bothers me. So I guess I’m not cut out for the business side. At least that’s what my father thinks, though I know he’s hoping I’ll take over as editor-in-chief when my sister steps into his shoes as CEO …” Her cheeks flushed. “Why am I telling you all this? You’re the enemy – I shouldn’t be sharing business plans with the enemy.”

He laughed. “I’m not the enemy. I don’t have anything to do with my family’s newspaper – my brother does, but not me. I’m a firefighter, nothing more and nothing less.”

“And do you love it? Aside from carrying damsels in distress down flights of stairs?” Her eyes twinkled.

He swallowed hard, glad she was able to joke about it. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he’d thought. “Aside from that – yes, I do. It’s a real community – we spend our lives together, then save lives together. It’s pretty fulfilling.”

“That’s nice. I’d love to have that kind of camaraderie with my co-workers, but there’s a lot of competition and backbiting.” She sighed. “I try to stay out of it as much as I can, and being the boss’s daughter, most of them leave me alone. But with the shrinking market for traditional news media, it’s pretty cutthroat.”

He studied his hands, then glanced up at her. Her eyes were on him and a pulse of electricity passed between them. He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Had she felt it too? His face blazed. “You know, this whole feud between our families is ridiculous.”

She cleared her throat and nodded. “I agree – I’ve always thought it was unnecessary. I mean, we can be adults about it, can’t we?”

“I think we can. Do we even know what started it?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Well … I was told your grandfather was jealous when my grandfather left the Chron to start the Times …”

“It was your grandfather who started it!” he spat, his head spinning with a rush of anger. “They were friends and he stole ideas, clients, stories and staff from my grandpa to start his own paper.”

“So he started his own newspaper. It was years ago – your grandfather should put his juvenile jealousy behind him and move on. He’s done enough over the years to make them even – what about all the times he stole advertisers, or told investors my grandfather was going senile?”

“There is no way Grandpa did that!”

“Okay, enough. We’ve heard different stories from two very biased points of view. Didn’t we just agree to be grown-ups about this?”

He nodded and exhaled slowly. “You’re right. Let’s start again. How about we agree not to talk about the feud or whose fault it is because the whole thing is infantile and stupid?”

“Sounds good to me. In fact, let’s be friends. Maybe that way, our families will see how silly their behavior is and they’ll finally put it all behind them.”

Tim pursed his lips and scratched absently at the stubble on his chin. “Well …”

“You don’t think it’s possible to mend fences between our families?”

He shrugged. “Possible? I don’t know. Probable … definitely not.”

She sighed. “I guess you’re right. But it does seem sad to waste so much energy hating each other. And I hate grudges.”

Was it possible? He knew how deeply the friction between the families ran. But their grandfathers had been friends once. Perhaps they could be persuaded to put the rift behind them and make amends. “It might be worth a try.”

“You’d be willing?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

He nodded. “I would. I don’t think it’s healthy to hold a grudge either. I’ve been praying about it for years, actually – I wish they’d all just forgive each other.”

She smiled. “You pray?”

He nodded. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, actually, I do, and I’ve been praying for the exact same thing. So maybe this is our opportunity to do something about it. Maybe this meeting isn’t by chance.”

He smiled at her words. There was a depth to her that was attractive. And stranger things had happened than the two most competitive newspaper families in the history of Atlanta making up. He chewed his lower lip, thinking through what it might take and what the consequences for each of them could be. “They won’t be happy with us, you know. I don’t want to cause trouble for you with your family.”

She grinned. “Oh, I’m used to being in trouble with them.”

“Is that so?” He laughed. “Somehow I can believe that.”

“Thanks a lot! So what are we saying? That we’ll be friends and somehow that will make them face their disagreements with each other?”

He shook his head, thoughts in a whirl. His parents would never make up with the Belugas over a vague friendship between him and Molly Beluga. They’d need more inducement than that. Plus he had a bet to consider. Two birds with one stone? “No, I don’t think a friendship will do it. There has to be more … we could pretend to be dating.”

Her eyes widened.

He shook his head. “It’s a bad idea. Forget it. We’d have to spend a lot of time together and pretend to be in love, and it might cause more conflict rather than less.” There was no way they could pull off something like that. Still, if they could … it might make a difference. And he could prove Callum wrong in the process. Well, not really, since it wouldn’t be a real relationship, but what Callum didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She stood and paced, her jeans hugging her shapely legs, then spun to face him, eyes blazing. “A friendship wouldn’t be enough to bring them together … but a wedding might. I’m willing to put in the effort if you are.”

“You want to pretend we’re getting married?” he asked with a frown. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of commitment, fake or not.

She smiled. “Exactly – let’s do it. If we’re engaged, there’s no way they can avoid each other. They’ll have to see each other, eat together, celebrate together. The perfect way to bring our feuding families together is with love.”

Tim chuckled nervously. “When you talk about it, it actually sounds like a good idea – or at least not such a bad one. So okay, let’s do it.”