Photos were held up by mismatched magnets, each one a small glimpse into Molly’s life. There were several of her with her brothers, Colt and Jace, their arms slung around each other, smiling happily. Othersshowed her with Cassie and Ellie, her best friends, laughing into the camera. There was even one of her as a little girl.
At no more than five years old, Molly sat atop a massive horse, wearing a pink cowgirl hat that was almost too big for her head. She was barely more than a speck against the size of the animal beneath her, yet she looked confident, not scared.
I smiled, wondering if she’d learned to ride before she ever learned to walk, growing up on McKinley Ranch. Her grandfather had built it from the ground up, a legacy passed down to her father that was now slowly being handed over to Colt and Jace.
As I thought about all the time I’d spent on the ranch as a child playing with the McKinley brothers, a sudden scream ripped through the house.
I dropped the lemon bar I was eating onto the counter and instinctively reached for the 9mm I always kept on me, sprinting down Molly’s hallway.
I hadn’t heard the bathroom door open, which meant she had to still be inside.
I knocked. “Molly? Are you in there? Can I come in?” My hand was on the knob, ready to turn it.
“Yes—hurry,” she pleaded.
I burst through the door, bracing myself for blood or something worse.
But instead, I found Molly standing wide-eyed, pointing at a spider crawling across the tile floor.
“Get it!” she screamed.
I crushed it with my boot in one clean stomp. She looked up at me, then down at the gun in my hand, hanging loosely at my side.
She brought her hand up to her mouth, hiding her laugh from spilling out. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” she said.
“Dramatic?” I said, holstering my weapon. “You screamed like you were being murdered.”
“I was about to be,” she said seriously. “By that freakishly large spider.”
“Next time you scream that loud,” I said, “there better be a real emergency.”
She lifted her hand in a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
My eyes flicked down without thinking, and I realized the awkward situation I’d accidentally walked into. Molly stood there in nothing but a towel. Her hair was still damp from the shower, darkened by the water and clinging to her shoulders. Her face was bare, freshly washed, and somehow softer than I’d ever seen it. If anything, she looked even prettier like this.
The towel was wrapped around her chest, hanging just low enough to brush her thighs—secure enough to stay put but leaving very little to the imagination. My brain filled in the blanks, sending my body reacting in ways that were wildly inconvenient.
I swallowed hard.
This was a mistake. A big one.
I needed to get out of that bathroom before she noticed my staring—or worse—before things got awkward in a way we couldn’t walk back from.
“I’m, uh, going back to the kitchen,” I said quickly. “I’ll see you when you’re done getting dressed.” I didn’t wait for her answer. I just turned and shut the door behind me, grateful for the barrier and the chance to collect myself.
When Molly returned to the living room, she was wearing matching pajama shorts and a silk spaghetti-strap top with a pattern of tiny blue hearts on the fabric. I wondered if taking a shower had made her feel any better. Anytime I had a long day at work, coming home and taking a hot shower always helped, but I had no way of knowing what Molly was feeling.
“Did the shower help?” I asked as she sat down on the couch next to me.
“Yes, actually. Until the spider showed up.” She laughed.
Molly and I were more than a safe distance apart, but seeing her in something so casual and revealing made the oxygen in her living room seem nonexistent.
I felt like an idiot. All I could see was Molly’s collarbone, and I was still about to pass out.
I had no idea why I’d offered to stay with her until she felt better. It was probably the sheriff in me—I couldn’t walk away from someone in need. A couplebites of pizza and some small talk, and I’d be out of here before the sun went down.
Molly brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she turned in my direction. “You still have time to make it to boys’ night. I feel better, Liam. I promise,” she said, trying to convince me.
