CHAPTER 2

Several days had passed, and not a single Facebook post targeting Molly had reared its vicious head. Either Evelyn was out of town, or Molly had finally fallen off her radar and hazing the town newbie was over with. She hoped the latter. She had paid her dues, survived it, and now it was time to move on and enjoy her new home without fear of scandal crossing the interwebs, assaulting her Facebook account and reputation.

Molly had worked hard to get to Pine Valley. She grew up as an only child in a small town outside of Portland — River Creek, population blink and you miss it. Just a blip on the radar. Not even GPS technology recognized it or could lead you to it. Most drove through without realizing they had done so.

Her parents’ relationship was forbidden — dad from a prominent well-to-do family in Portland, mom from the wrong side of the tracks, aka trailer park. Like any good forbidden love story, they ran off and married, starting their own simple life far from those who balked at their relationship. Molly’s father had used as much of his trust fund as he could, before his father interceded, to buy what would become their means for a future together — a small market in River Creek that sat as the only one in town at the sole four-way stop marking town center. He had just enough for the market and the property behind it where their cozy home sat, leaving them content.

Their love story began when they ran off to the romantic town of Pine Valley to marry and spend their honeymoon at the only place they could afford: a four-room bed and breakfast that was nothing more than a quaint colonial style manor. It ended when her father was in a terrible accident in River Creek, losing his life to a large combine driving a rural road on a drizzly day during harvest season when Molly was just fourteen. Then she lost her mom that terrible night to a depression which led to a pain-numbing habit of alcohol — something easy to come by in their town where moonshine was a popular craft.

The family market was eventually sold, then their family home and parcels of land, one at a time. When all that was left was a single wide trailer on the last few acres of land, Molly dropped out of school, finishing online at night, and started working to support her and her mother. Not the life she dreamed of, but the life she was handed. The dream changed from college, career, and a love like her parents, to “fake it ’til you make it, and find your way to Pine Valley,” where she could feel close to the love she missed so much.

Her mother died when Molly was twenty. The doctors said it was her liver, followed by kidneys, mixed with the alcohol that had claimed her, but Molly knew it was of a broken heart. A slow, painful death of loneliness and lost love. It didn’t hurt to lose her mother like it had her father. It was freeing. Her mother could finally be at peace, as could Molly. She spent the next several years working several jobs, living in her little trailer, saving every last penny she could.

Pine Valley was the goal, and it was realized on her twenty-eighth birthday when a trust from her father’s family — a trust she hadn’t known existed — matured and allowed her to quit all her jobs, sell the last of her family property, and start her life in Pine Valley. Reading Grounds was born, and Molly was finally where she knew she needed to be. In Pine Valley, with her coffee and books, dreaming of her own love story.

It was nearing the day’s end and time to start closing shop when Molly’s reminiscing mind came back to the present. Her final customer had just left, and she’d locked the door behind her when a buzz and ping from her cellphone caught her attention. Molly adored the friends she had made here. They felt more and more like family as time went on, and she was always happy to hear from them…until now. A text from Libby she wished hadn’t landed in her inbox.

Check Facebook. Call me if you need me. I am so sorry.

Molly’s heart sank and filled with dread. A Facebook post followed by an I’m sorry could only mean one thing: Evelyn Shirley.

Before Molly could get to a laptop or tablet, there was a knock at the glass door. Seth. If his expression said anything, it was that he already knew what was waiting for her on Facebook, and he wasn’t happy about it either. She opened the door to let him in, and he quickly grabbed her elbow and pulled her to the back of the shop and out of sight from street traffic.

“I just saw it. I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

Shit. If he was apologizing with a hug, it must have been bad. She was torn between staying in his arms until it all went away and actually looking at the mess that had her phone pinging and Seth at her door. What could have possibly fallen from the cow’s mouth now? Though they were friends, staying in Seth’s embrace forever wasn’t an option, and not what he was offering in the grand scheme of things. This was some sort of guilt hugging her.

“Sorry? Was it Evelyn again?” she asked, hoping he could just tell her and spare her from the inevitable damage waiting for her attention.

“You haven’t seen it? Oh wow…uh…” Seth was at a loss for words, which wasn’t uncommon, but the irritation and angst rolling off him was. He grabbed her tablet from the nearby counter and pulled up his Facebook account, revealing just what had him so ticked.

“How on earth…?” Molly was surprised by the desperation in Evelyn’s attempts. What she had caught was anything but scandalous. It was a picture of Seth and Molly hugging, inside her store, surrounded by customers, a few days prior…just before she found him the romance novel he’d asked for. The innocence of that hug being made out to be something other than just that was maddening. Especially since it was sparked from Evelyn and her antics to begin with.

“I’m sorry, Molly. I was on my way to see her, to ask her stop this, but wanted to see you…first,” he finished.

She found his desire to protect her endearing, and although she appreciated his chivalrous plan, she knew better. “I appreciate that, but talking to Evelyn is like poking an angry bear. She’ll just swipe back. She’s merciless, especially when challenged.”

“I just…I wanted…” Seth ran his hands through his hair in frustration. His demeanor made it clear he understood her concern and knew she was probably right but hated being somewhat of a source of her stress or disappointment. Molly knew he didn’t want this to get in the way of their friendship — she didn’t want it to either.

Maybe he was kicking himself for not asking her out before and felt the opportunity was missed all together. God, Molly hoped not. It may have been a bit presumptuous on her part, but she really hoped that was where the hugs and concern were heading.

With Evelyn’s eye on them, the chances of her going anywhere with him now were slim to none. She was watching them, and each had something to lose if Evelyn continued to harass them this way. About the only thing either of them found comfort in was knowing Evelyn’s antics likely hindered the chance of anyone else pursuing them out of fear of Evelyn. At least there was that.

“Well, since you’re here, would you like some coffee?” Molly asked, pulling away from Seth. There was an empty void that settled in, nagging her to rush back into Seth’s arms where not even Evelyn could reach her. Okay, Evelyn could reach her anywhere, cute boys embrace or not, but the thought was nice just the same.

“Uh, sure!” Seth gladly accepted the cup of coffee with her. He had a look that said he would happily walk across a bed of coals barefoot for Molly too, which made the distance that much harder. Coffee was a good start, she thought, burning coals would have to wait.

Molly grabbed a tray and added a couple coffee mugs and the extra carafe of coffee she’d made just before closing. It was intended for an all nightery with a couple new releases, but it was better spent on time with Seth.

On her way to the table they favored, she grabbed what was left of the day’s pastries. This was a good excuse to binge on sweets rather than let them go to waste. As she rounded the corner from behind the counter, she grabbed one last thing — the one thing that would make this all go away for a short spell: her favorite bottles of booze.

Raised eyebrows and a smirk met her with question. “We’re drinking tonight, huh?”

“Yep! Coffee…and a little something to numb the sting!” she chided.

“Well, okay then…” He picked up the bottle to see what they were indulging in and seemed surprised by the selection. “Butterscotch Schnapps and Bailey’s, huh?”

“You bet’cha!” she said with fervor. “This is my guilty pleasure — every once in a while.”

She poured them each a cup of coffee, stalling the bottle of alcohol above his glass, waiting for the go ahead to pour, then plated the pastries, insisting he try the strawberry cream cheese Danish without giving two shits about how it wouldn’t go well with their drinks. They were having a pity party and crossing offensive flavors was a given.

It wasn’t lost on Molly that Seth watched her go through the motions knowing it was all just a distraction from the day’s ugliness, aka Evelyn. After a quick stir, she sipped her altered coffee. Her eyes closed, and a deep, breathy moan escaped as the warm beverage coated her throat. The sound of that moan had him twitching in places he was happy to have hidden under the table. What he wouldn’t have given to hear that sound, over and over again. Often.

“Drink up!” she said with a nudge, pulling him from his not so pure thoughts.

“Oh, yeah, thanks! So…” He understood the moan. This stuff was like a mug full of dessert. He had learned the hard way those are the drinks you stop consuming after the first or second. They go down way too quickly, then the thoughts you never wished to reveal flowed far too easy and made an ass of you.

“Sooo….” she retorted, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“So, what if there was a way to…make this stop? You know, make Evelyn go away?” he questioned.

“Can’t kill her. Already checked into it,” Molly deadpanned, not intending to make him choke on her words.

“Oh, I wasn’t… I mean — wait, you looked into it?” His initial surprise quickly shifted to intrigue.

“No, not really. The ladies talked about it the other day. Shayna said she’d ask Jasper, but it was all a joke! That old bird would probably Facebook it from the grave, sending us all to prison anyway…not worth it,” she joked.

“I have a plan. It’s a little less…sinister, but it could work. The whole join ’em if you can’t beat ’em. You trust me?” He raised an eyebrow in question and didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she answered. His question was a loaded one that went far beyond the town busy body and her bullshit.

She matched his raised eyebrow and gave a crooked grin while looking at Seth, trying to decide how much worse this really could get should his plan fail. General consensus was not much worse. “Sure, Spangler, I trust you. What you got?”

“Facebook.” He winked, taking another long pull from his mug.

They spent the next few hours searching Facebook and the Pine Valley Chamber of Commerce site for all things Evelyn Shirley. Pictures, articles — you name it, they found it. Seth’s plan was clever really. Fight fire with fire. Or, in this case, post for post. They would fire back at every direct hit with Facebook posts of their own, only…not as themselves.

The menacing duo set up a fake Facebook account, like any good asshole would, and called it Rumor ALSO Has It. Not the cleverest of names, only a slight play on words and the situation. Alcohol added to the mix of mischief made things a little fuzzy, and the name was less important than the content.

The key was to make the account public for all to see, then invite the whole damn town to the page — everyone they could think of. It would spread like wildfire on its own. It was a small town after all, and small towns spread gossip like sugar to ants.

Seth had switched to straight coffee by his second cup. Molly switched to straight liquor by her third, and its effects were becoming painfully obvious. In between her bad jokes, giggles, and exaggerated gestures, she was pouring her heart out to Seth. She shared her past in all its dark glory, leaving him even more enamored by her.

She trusted him all right, and it was obvious he felt deeply for all she’d gone through. He’d placed his hand over hers and would occasionally squeeze it in support before jumping back on the laptop they were working on.

“Do you think she’ll know it’s us?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered back with a smile. “Why are we whispering?”

She let out a deep, bellowing laugh — the kind that made your belly shake, your sides hurt, and your eyes water. He didn’t seem to think whispering was quite as funny as she did. They were just whispering in an empty store — her store, no less — and the only thing funny was she thought it was funny. But he found her humor contagious and laughed along with her because doing anything at all with her felt right.

Disappointment filled her expression when Molly lifted her mug for another sip just to find it empty. She set it on the table and looked around before her eyes widened and sparkled with enthusiasm. It was as if the light bulb above her head lit up and an idea was born — a brilliant one if her expression was a decent gauge.

“Do you want a blow job?” she asked, wide-eyed, serious as could be.

“A-A-A-A what?!” Seth stuttered, choking on her words.

“A blow job! Ya want one? I love blow jobs!” She stood, hands on her hips, and hell if she didn’t bite her full bottom lip waiting for an answer. “You’ve had a blow job before, haven’t you?”

“Uh, yeah…yeah…I, uh…yeah…” It was common for Seth to find himself speechless in Molly’s presence — this was a different kind of silence, however. How was he supposed to respond? And how did he avoid kicking himself for it later? And why couldn’t he just say sure, I’d love one when that was the honest to God truth? “I’ve, uh…yep…done that, yep.”

“Yes!” she hollered, a celebratory fist charging through the air. “This is my favorite! Hang on. Let me grab the whipped cream! If we are going to do this, let’s do it right!” She got up from the table and rushed behind the counter, stumbling and giggling as she went. In that moment, Seth’s conscience decided to emerge, waving the white flag that roused his moral compass. She was shit faced drunk. There wouldn’t be a blow job, or even as much as a kiss. He was a gentleman, and they always finished last, and usually by themselves…

“I used to do these allllll the time. I’m really good at them. These brought in the biggest tips!” she slurred.

“Wait...what? So, like how many…how many are we talkin’?” he asked delicately. “You were, uh, paid for…for…doing those?” That last word ended on a nervous high note, causing him to clear his throat as if that were the problem. No, the problem wasn’t his cracking timbre, or the joy blow jobs seemed to bring Molly. The problem was the stiff ridge in his jeans and that damn zipper rubbing against said ridge.

“Oh hundreds, maybe thousands! You’re going to love this!” She returned to the table shaking the can of whipped cream while snapping off the lid.

“Look, Molly…as tempting as this is, and believe me…it’s tempting,” he began, “I think…I think we should maybe just, you know. Not tonight. You’ve had a lot to drink,” he reasoned. “I’ve had some too…”

“Oh, come on! Don’t you trust me, Spangler? Just one. Do it for me! I promise you won’t regret it! It’ll be your new guilty pleasure,” she finished in a sultry, breathy tone.

“Well…” Was he really thinking about this? Of course he was, and the part about guilty pleasure had his jeans squeezing the life out of him. Hell yeah this would be his guilty pleasure. It was already his guilty fantasy. Just as he was ready to reply, she grabbed both bottles of alcohol and turned them upside down over each mug for a quick pour followed by a nice dollop of whip on each.

“A true blow job is in a shot glass and you have to drink it with no hands! It’s the most ridiculous thing ever,” she said, her quick pour getting all over the table before setting the awkward bottles down. “If you do it right, you have white stuff all over your face. It’s supposed to be…”

Realizing where she was going with this conversation, and that the blow job she was offering was nothing more than a drink, he cut her off before she could finish and make an awkward situation just that much more awkward by discussing the inevitable white stuff that comes with a blow job — both kinds. “Yeah, yeah! I get what it’s, uh…supposed to be.”

“Whoa, I think I might be getting a little buzzed here. Everything is warm, and I can’t even remember Evelyn Shirley’s name! Mission accomplisshhhed.” Her fist flew through the air again in victory just as her head went down to the table. “Geezzzz, this room is soooo spinny. I think we need a new table.”

That was his cue. Sadly, their time was up. Seth needed to do the gentlemanly thing and get her upstairs to her apartment where she would be safe and settled in before spinning turned into something worse that he’d inevitably have to clean up. They accomplished what they set out to do. By morning, they should see results worth reveling in when they logged into Facebook.

Seth left Molly, face down at the table, talking to herself about Evil Shirley, while he checked the lock on the front door, leaving only the lights above the coffee and check-out counter on. With his hand gently rubbing her back to rouse her, she finally lifted her head and smiled sweetly at him. Seth held her elbow, helping her to her feet. Her world must’ve been spinning because her feet couldn’t seem to find the ground and walking on her own looked like a distant memory. He swooped her up, cradling her head against his chest while her arms found their way around his neck. Right where they belonged.

Seth carried Molly up the winding stairs that led to her apartment above Reading Grounds, quickly finding the only bedroom in the large, wide open space. He rested her on the edge of her bed and began to remove her shoes. The boundaries were clear in most cases, but in this one, they were blurred. Was he to leave her jeans on? Her shirt? How would she be most comfortable?

As a firefighter, he was a caretaker and saw plenty of dressed and undressed victims requiring his help — he was a professional and never saw anything but a patient. Like the professional he was, Seth was able to separate his attraction to Molly from the situation at hand and follow his instincts that would let him take care of her. She needed him, and he knew that. But would she be able to see that for what it was when she was sober? That was where the lines began to blur. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass or offend her.

Without his prompting, she stood on unbalanced legs and started taking off her clothes as if he wasn’t even in the room. Seth started to turn and grant Molly’s privacy, but her balance, or lack thereof, got the better of her, and his arms were quickly around Molly, steadying her. She paused as Seth held her gaze, pondering whether to help, look away, or call someone. He could get lost in those rich brown eyes forever, he thought, before looking down so that inviting stare didn’t drag him in any further — which would have made him less than an honorable gentleman. He was being put to the test and intended to pass so there could potentially be more nights like this…sans alcohol.

Molly fumbled under her shirt with twisted arms that seemed to work better if she made a few matching faces. A few grunts later, she had a proud smile as she unhooked her bra, pulled it off through the sleeves of her Reading Grounds t-shirt like a skilled magician, and dropped it to the floor. Seth assumed she was being modest and planning to sleep in her shirt, given the contortionist act of removing her bra. He was wrong.

Seth let out a slow sigh and bit his bottom lip when Molly’s shirt flew over her head, revealing perfect, jaw-dropping breasts. Jesus Christ, Seth thought, look away before you finish what you didn’t even get to start…in your pants. Without hesitation, Molly started on her pants like Seth wasn’t even there. Or maybe she didn’t care that he was. Her jeans proved to be the ultimate drunken obstacle since her hands became an obvious ten pack of butterscotch and Bailey’s thumbs. Seth came to the rescue, as any good, selfless hero would, and helped her with the button, but drew the line there. It was already getting entirely too hot in there, and his chivalry had hard limits.

Molly slid her jeans down her legs slowly, a move so provocative and natural to her, Seth broke out in a sweat as he shifted his stance, trying to relieve the tight pull of his own jeans. She didn’t even have to try to be seductive, it was just who she was: beautiful, sensual Molly.

She began to sway when her jeans hit her ankles. She was struggling to step out of them, causing her to sit at the edge of her bed.

“Are you okay?” Seth asked, hands cradling her face.

“I…I don’t feel so well. I think I did too many blow jobs,” she replied in a small voice.

He chuckled at her casual reference, but felt bad about how much worse she was likely going to feel before she felt better. Seth could see it in her pale, rosy-cheeked face. He kissed the top of her head and knelt down to untangle her feet from the crumpled pool of jeans at her ankles. He had a good view of her pink lacey boy short panties that were a perfectly matching set to the bra piled at his feet. If only this were another night, he would have taken his time enjoying the view.

He was ready to walk away once he had her tucked in for the night, but his plan to leave changed when she shot up with a whimper. He turned to watch her stumble her way to the adjacent bathroom. Seth quickly moved behind her, so she made it safely to her destination, and held her hair when she finally got sick. He couldn’t leave her now — not tonight. She would need him. And he liked being needed.

With Molly finally back in bed, a cool rag resting on her head, Seth kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable in the corner chair, relaxing his feet on the matching ottoman. He assumed it to be her reading spot given the books and small light on the shelf next to it. The space even smelled like her. It wasn’t ideal, but it would serve as his bed for the night. He would be there if she needed him — he would take care of her.