Probably because she’d always been bristly around him. Truly, she was working to soften those bristles, considering recent information and heroics.
“What are you up to tonight?” Evelyn asked, moving deeper into the house to a lush gourmet kitchen. A huge white marble countertop island stood in the middle of the giant room with an oversized commercial refrigerator, three sinks, and two ovens. The stove even had its own sink—the kind used to fill up pots right on the stovetop.
The set-up made Molly’s mouth water. She loved to cook. Unfortunately, her little kitchen didn’t allow for her to let her colors fly. Of course, she cooked there, but not with the extravagance she wished she could. Like, say, filling a pot straight on the stove. Think. Of. All. The. Pasta.
Her gaze caught the portrait on top of the refrigerator—a portrait of a zebra in a red bathtub. She held back her gag.
His ex-fiancée painted that. She was well-known in the animals-in-bathtubs art world.
Uh-huh. That was a thing.
A ridiculous thing. Yet…
“Tell me what’s going on in the world of Molly,” Evelyn said, pouring a cup of tea and sliding it across the countertop.
“Not a lot.” Molly lifted the cup to her lips. “Work. Kid. Rinse. Repeat.”
“You’re happy with this?” The look Evelyn lanced her with pierced straight to her core.
Molly gave what she hoped was a sly smile. “Of course.”
Evelyn made a sound in the back of her throat that did not sound like she agreed this was anything to be thrilled with.
“Why don’t you think that’s a good thing?” Molly asked. “Routine is good.”
Evelyn squirted a dollop of honey into her cup and stirred. “Routine is good. Mundane is not.”
She had a point there. Molly sighed. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I don’t quite know how to get out of the mundane.” The car trouble, house hunting, kid issues, and the need to cook dinner every night—dinner that she mostly only ate because Ollie would suddenly develop an intense aversion to spaghetti and meatballs or chicken taquitos.
“Then you have come to the right place.” Evelyn smacked the counter.
Molly lifted her eyebrows. “Gavin’s kitchen is the right place?”
“My dear.” Evelyn pointed to herself. “You’ve come to me.”
Well, not technically. Technically, she dropped off Gavin’s kids. But…whatever.
“We need to find you a hobby.” Evelyn snapped her fingers.
Molly could do a hobby. Something other than cooking meals her son refused to eat.
“Do you play bingo?” Evelyn glanced at Molly’s cup filled with herbal tea like she should get started on it.
Molly lifted it to her lips and blew on the steam.
“I’m back,” Gavin called, followed by a door closing.
Molly’s cheeks heated. What was she doing here? She should go. She set down the barely touched tea and reached for her purse.
“I should…” She tilted her head toward the door. “Where are you going, dear?” Evelyn asked. “We haven’t finished discussing bingo.”
“I didn’t realize I was hosting a party,” Gavin said from behind Molly, all wry like he was ready for Molly to toss out a zinger.
She forced herself to sit taller and threw what she hoped was a saucy look over her shoulder. “We weren’t sure you were invited.”
