“So you don’t think it can go anywhere other than a lousy dinner date?”
“It’s a five-million-dollar dinner, so probably not lousy,” I correct her primly. “But expectations are not good for me, even if we are living together right now.”
Every time I dream of something more, things end badly, and I’m left disappointed and upset. And I just don’t want to open myself up to inevitable pain by thinking of what could be. Whatever I have with Nicholas could devastate me like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m not brave enough to leave myself fully exposed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Nicholas
“What time do we need to head to the shelter?” Molly asks over breakfast on Saturday.
“The shelter?” My plan is to spend the day rolling around in bed with her. I wish she could get a three-day weekend, but apparently Jack won’t give her one.
Which is supremely dickish behavior.It isn’t like he’s running some vast financial empire that can’t function without an accountant for a day. For a glorified personal trainer, he sure is difficult.
I should make a list of things we can do over two days. Molly was unusually down on Monday, and her less-than-stellar mood continued until Wednesday. I checked to see if she’d watched another girl-does-the-right-thing-only-to-die-alone-at-the-end kind of TV show, but she hadn’t. She read a few books, but she only reads romance. As far as I know, they all end “happily ever after.” I even scanned them after she was finished to be sure, and they just had a lot of creative sex scenes—most of which I intend tore-create—and happy endings.
When I asked her if anything was bothering her, she merely smiled and said she was having issues at work. I texted Georgia in case she’d said something stupid, but she said nothing happened. They just had lunch and got caught up.
Asking for more details would violate our privacy. We have the right to have a girly conversation without you wanting to know everything,she texted me.
Sisters are brutal. My brothers would’ve been on my side. Noah in particular would’ve told me everything in detail.
“Yes, the shelter,” Molly says with a laugh. “Furry Haven. We volunteer there once a month? Remember?”
Oh, riiight.It’s an effort not to sigh. I volunteered there to spend time with her. And now I’ve contributed five million dollars to their coffers, for which Brenda thanked me profusely. I was hoping to gracefully step back and give my allergies a rest.
But Molly’s looking at me with excitement shining in her eyes. And I can deny her nothing. “Of course Iremember.” I try for an airy wave. “We can leave in half an hour if you want to be there by nine thirty. I’ll drive.”
“Great!” She beams.
I swear when she smiles like that, she can ask me for anything and I’ll give it to her.
I look for my allergy meds in the bathroom cabinet. I get a special prescription because the OTC stuff doesn’t work for me.
The ugly orange bottle is sitting there like some kind of petrified tangerine. The same shade as Joey’s hair, now that I think about it. I pick it up, then curse.
I forgot to fill my prescription! Dr. Prescott can instruct the pharmacy, even though it’s Saturday, but there won’t be time to grab the pills before hitting the shelter.
Let’s see… If I take dog-walking duty and avoid going inside the shelter, I’ll probably be okay. And I don’t have to be inside anyway. It isn’t like I do anything on their computers. Brenda has never asked me to wash the animals, and I don’t see her asking today.
I toss the empty bottle and head out. Molly’s waiting, looking pretty and pleased. I select the Flying Spur for the drive because it just feels like the perfect car for the day—luxurious, classy and responsive. This is the first time we’re going to the shelter together, and while spending the entire morning screwing would be better, I like how normal the shared activity feels. This might be why couples do volunteer work together. I should get my prescription refilled and continue, especially when she’s so excited, humming along to the songs filling the car with a smile on her pink, kissable lips. She’s impossibly cute when she’s like this.
After I pull into the lot by the shelter, I kiss her, stealing a taste.Yum. She flushes.
“What was that about?”
“What, a man can’t kiss his pretty girlfriend?”
Her flush deepens as her smile grows wider. She leans forward, her motion fast. Her mouth is aiming for my cheek, but I’m quicker. I tilt my head so she ends up kissing me on the mouth. I try to pull her closer and fuse our mouths tighter, but she retreats hastily.
“Later!” she says, bright laughter in her voice, then climbs out of the car.
I follow her out. “If you don’t mind, let’s walk the dogs,” I call out to her back.
“Okay! I’ll ask Brenda!”
I’m pretty sure she won’t mind. I watch her hips swinging as she walks in, thinking aboutlater, then lean on the car and check my email.
