“So by taking her father’s case, you think you can make it up to her?”
“In part. And helping her now will make it easier on me when I walk away. And I will walk away when this is over.”
Ty burst out laughing. “Man, you are one screwed-up puppy. One minute you’re blaming her for dumping you, and the next you’re blaming yourself for not siding with her. You think that’s why she turned you down last year?”
“I don’t care about why, only that she did. I want things between us to end clean this time.” So when he returned to his life, he’d stop abusing himself and be able to move on.
“Good luck, man. Something tells me you’re going to need it.” Ty hung up quickly before Hunter could have the last word.
“Typical.” Hunter shook his head. But he sure as hell needed all the luck he could get, because he’d had another realization in the last few days.
Hunter was finished letting any woman turn his life to shit. Unfortunately he’d also discovered that he wasn’t over Molly, the woman he’d allowed to mess with his head.
This past year had been a regression he wasn’t proud of. As a kid he’d been defensive and self-protective, in need of guidance and getting none. After a series of sometimes dangerous, oftentimes neglectful, foster-care homes, at sixteen he’d landed at Ty’s mother’s house where his life had changed for the better. Ty and Lacey had befriended him, teaching him so much about self-respect during their short year as a family.
Then Lacey’s uncle, Marc Dumont, had unexpectedly decided he wanted her to come home-to his abuse. The three friends had faked Lacey’s death, sending her to New York to avoid returning to the nightmare her life had been. Her “death” had denied Lacey’s uncle the chance to claim her trust fund and he’d been furious. Dumont couldn’t prove Ty and Hunter had had anything to do with his niece’s “death” but he’d set out to punish them anyway.
A few pulled strings and an angry Hunter had been placed in a juvenile facility where he’d caused enough trouble to get himself put in a scared-straight program. He’d walked into the jail a cocky, brash kid, but the minute he’d heard the doors clang shut behind him, he’d nearly pissed his pants. Thank God he hadn’t been stupid. He’d listened to every word the convicts had said and taken them to heart. He’d decided right then, no way was he about to end up like the men telling their life stories.
He’d focused on their words and the dual voices in his head. Lacey and Ty, the two people who’d believed in him. He’d looked at what he had become. He’d visualized their disappointment in his mind and he’d heard Lacey’s concerned voice in his head. Somehow they’d been with him as he’d pushed himself through the program, as he’d cleaned up his act, as he’d made sure his record was expunged on his eighteenth birthday as promised by the courts, and as he’d taken out student loans to start college. They were his family.
So last year when Molly, who’d been in the dark about his past, had told him Lacey’s uncle was about to have her declared legally dead and claim her trust fund, Hunter had sent Ty to New York to find her. And when someone repeatedly tried to have her killed after her surprising resurrection, they had naturally blamed Lacey’s uncle, Molly’s soon-to-be stepfather. Hunter had felt certain Marc Dumont was guilty despite Molly’s fondness for him.
Yet he’d never once turned his back on Molly and he’d tried to be there for her. He’d offered her his life, his soul, his love, something he’d never given to another woman-and she’d rejected him. His entire post foster-care world had been about making something of himself, yet by dumping him, she’d proven his greatest fear to be correct. Nice clothes and the right choices in drinks and silverware couldn’t change who he was deep inside. She’d enforced his belief that no woman could love the real Daniel Hunter, and he’d spent the last year drinking and partying and working like a demon in order to forget.
So now he knew the truth about how little he was worth to the female species as anything other than a short-term guy. But Hunter had worked too damn hard to make something of himself to let his self-destructive tendencies take over for good.
Which brought him back to his game plan for getting over Molly. They needed closure. At least he did, even if that meant allowing himself to soften toward her while working on her father’s case.
He’d just let nature take over, he thought wryly, glancing at the bird in the cage. He’d wanted Molly for too long to deny his desire, especially since it looked as if he’d be in town for a good amount of time. These types of cases never ended quickly. Giving himself permission to cozy up to Molly and see where things went felt good.
Damn good.
The thought lifted the sour mood that had plagued him. He could smile a bit more, enjoy his time here while working on what promised to be a challenging case-and on Molly. As long as in the end, this time he was the one to walk away.
Game on.
MOLLY RETURNED from her morning run with her friend Liza, someone she’d met during one of her many Starbucks trips. Thanks to Liza, Molly had begun her volunteer work at the senior center in town. Liza was the one person she’d met apart from family, someone she could confide in and talk to, and Molly appreciated the shoulder to lean on. Especially now that Hunter was back in her life.
As soon as she returned home, Molly immediately hit the shower. She’d learned to move quickly before Jessie woke and monopolized the bathroom in the hall for a solid hour, as she did every day. After years of living alone, Molly found the adjustments to family life-like sharing a bathroom-amusing, and she rarely minded the inconvenience because it meant she was a part of something bigger than herself. Today Molly didn’t mind because she had more than her sister to worry about.
She had Hunter, and she wanted to be functioning and ready for the day before he woke and she had to deal with his guarded attitude and simmering resentment. Not to mention her own longing for the way things used to be, as well as the physical awareness she couldn’t deny.
He was so sexy, just looking at him left her hot and bothered. He was so intense, his mood became her mood, and the need to penetrate his walls and defenses became her mission. A useless mission since he obviously didn’t plan to forgive her and she knew better than to beat her head against a brick wall.
Freshly showered, Molly retreated to her room and after drying her hair, dressing and putting on makeup, she stepped into the hall-directly into Hunter, who’d obviously just finished a shower of his own. Wearing jeans and a mint-green collared polo T-shirt, he whistled, drying his hair with a bath towel as he walked.
He stopped just short of bumping into her. “Hey there!” He sounded surprisingly pleased to see her.
“Good morning,” she said warily. “Did you sleep okay on the pullout?”
“Not bad at all.” He propped one shoulder against the wall, obviously settling in for a conversation. “I slept well enough to start working on your dad’s case with a clear head this morning.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“How about you? How did you sleep?”
Not bad considering the man of my dreams was under the same roof, she thought. “I had a great night’s sleep,” she lied.
As if he could read her mind, a sudden, sexy smile pulled at Hunter’s lips and his gaze settled on hers.
Unwilling to squirm, she folded her arms across her chest, squared her shoulders and stared right back. She raked her gaze over him, slowly, deliberately letting herself see what she was up against.
No doubt about it, Molly thought, she was dealing with one gorgeous man. Although he was fully dressed, as far as her senses were concerned, he might as well have been naked. His damp hair reminded her he’d just showered, and in case she tried not to think about him naked beneath a hot stream of water, the moist air trailing from the open bathroom put the image vividly in her mind.