That was for sure. Well…not Molly, anyway.
Chapter Fifteen
“Intention doesn’t always equal results.” —A.Y. Chao
Molly
“Bingo night?” Molly gave Agnes the you-have-lost-your-marbles look. Seemed like she did that a lot lately. “You brought us to bingo night?”
“I did.” Agnes reached for Charlie’s hand as they strode along the sidewalk in front of Bernie’s Bingo on Wadsworth Avenue.
“I’ve never been to a bingo parlor.” Gavin did not reach for Molly’s hand. Though, she didn’t reach for him either. And, really, she wasn’t surehowto initiate touch with him. Obviously, she knew how to touch somebody but…not him.
Except when he’d done the practice touch thing at Rachel’s house.
They’d probably need to figure out the actual rules of touch if they wanted to convince Evelyn, her fake cat, and the general online population they were the real deal. Contact was expected.
Which meant he was on the right track and they really should practice.
Now. They should practice now.
“Do you want to hold my hand?” Molly asked, out of the corner of her mouth. “I know, it’s probably sweaty. But I promise I don’t have cooties.” Sarcasm for the win.
“Sure.” Gavin held his palm out for her. “I don’t have cooties either.”
“Excellent. Cootie free zone.” She should take his hand. This was the part where she took it.
Her mind willed her hand to reach back for him, but suddenly the air felt like concrete, and no matter how hard she willed her muscles to move, they didn’t.
Grr. It’s not like they were going to make out in the bathroom. This was just a hand hold, nothing intimate or special. Besides, his hands were probably sweaty.
Sweaty palms would make this whole thing easier.
Also, harder. Because, ew.
But mostly easier because she didn’t really care for sweaty hands on a man. Therefore, she wouldn’t find Gavin any more attractive than the next guy.
Sweat when a muscled man worked out at the gym or went for a jog? Totally fine. Sweat when chopping wood? Definitely hot.
Truth was, she sort of had a thing for lumberjacks.
Gavin looked pointedly at the hand he still held out. The hand she’d asked him to hold out.
Right. Right. Right.
She took it.
Not sweaty in the least. In fact, his palm was rough. In a good way. More like oddly arousing.
She figured Gavin was the kind of guy who changed his smoke alarm batteries quarterly and got manicures weekly.
Which she didn’t need to dig too far into.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze that felt really freaking nice.
They’d nearly made it to the entrance when Agnes turned around and pointed a finger at Molly. “No fixing him up with anyone else tonight.”
Right. So they were going there.
