“I mentioned to Mom that you and I are seeing each other. She bought it.” Again with the timber of his voice making her all tingly. “She’s going to invite you to the Puffle Yum Foundation Fundraiser. Heads up—I told her I would, but she wanted to make it special for you.”
“Those tickets are like a thousand dollars each.” Molly had never gone because, for one, she had no reason to go. And, two, she did not have a thousand dollars to drop on dinner. Even if it was for a good cause.
That money could go to stunt camp or a new muffler or…escrow on her hopefully new house.
The Puffle Yum Foundation was well-known for giving loads of money to the community organizations and programs that were often hugely underfunded. She always figured it was the easiest job at the company—and that’s why Gavin chose it. But now she was starting to realize he actually liked taking care of people. His job—and his commitment to it—was pretty awesome, actually.
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not-really-but-kind-of dating the president of the foundation.” Gavin filled in the N-5s on his game piece.
“What if I can’t go?” Molly asked, knowing full well she’d drop everything to go to an event like that.
He hadn’t moved his arm from the back of her chair. Instead, he just scooted his game cards closer to hers.
“Canyou go?” he asked, popping the dauber cap back on.
“I can.” Molly nodded. “But what if I couldn’t?”
“What if you couldn’t?”
“What would you tell your mom?”
“To donate the tickets to one of the staff?” This was a question and a statement all wrapped up in one, and broken in half by a woman in the front row calling out, “Bingo!”
Charlie ripped his cards like they were a voided check that particularly pissed him off. Agnes didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t the one to score a bingo, as she politely scooted hers into a tidy pile.
Molly collected hers more like Agnes with a small touch of Charlie.
Gavin didn’t touch his cards. Every bit of his focus was on Molly.
“What?” she asked. Did she have something on her face? She wiped at her chin because, to be honest, that wasn’t entirely out of the question. However, she stopped mid-swipe.
The intensity of Gavin’s stare apparently had nothing to do with sauce on her chin. She dropped her hand to her lap, and he tilted his head to the side a bit. Just like that, her nerve endings buzzed to life. Ah, there it was, that lovely discomfort once more.
“If we’re going to be convincing,” he said, slower than entirely necessary, “and if you have nothing better to do or no books to read, we might as well enjoy the overpriced dinner that Eats Grille is catering.” He leaned in closer. Deliciously closer. “I hear it’s going to be top-shelf steak.”
Oh, she just bet Gavin’s meat was top-shelf steak.
Ugh. No.
No thoughts of Gavin’s meat. None.
Somebody needed to grab her a Clorox wipe for her brain.
Molly scowled. Not because of the wipe situation. No, mostly because she could get used to this kind of deal—the whole bingo night followed by black tie thing.
“What if I’m a vegetarian and don’t eat meat?” She seriously regretted asking as soon as it slipped from her lips.
“Molly?” He sounded like he did when Kellan had stuck the candy up his nose. Tolerant, yet tipping toward not-so-tolerant.
“What?” she asked with what she hoped was pure innocence.
“I’ve literally watched you eat hamburgers—frequently—like it’s your job.”
She blew out a breath between her lips. She loved meat. All kinds of meat. She’d probably even like his… Yeah, still needed that Clorox wipe.
It’d just been a long time since she’d had it.
On that note, he collected his game cards, bought more for them both, and they started all over again.
