Page 43 of Wild Spirit Revival

“Oh, I’m sure you say the same to all the ladies who wander into your kitchen.” Molly’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

Lilian snorted, earning her a mock glare from Molly. The easy banter between them warmed Elijah’s heart, even as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check.

“Only the ones who can handle a rolling pin without causing injury,” he retorted, moving to wash his hands at the sink. As he passed Molly, he caught a whiff of lavender and sunshine, a scent he was beginning to associate with her.

“And how do you know I haven’t?” Molly challenged, brandishing the rolling pin. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite dangerous in the kitchen.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Is that so? Should I be worried about the safety of our supper, then?”

Molly’s laughter filled the kitchen. “Your mother’s been keeping a close eye on me. I think the meal will survive my presence.”

As they continued their playful back-and-forth, Elijah marveled at how natural it felt to have Molly there, in his home, surrounded by his family. He found himself relaxing, the tension of the day’s work melting away in the warmth of her presence.

Yet, even as he enjoyed their easy conversation, a part of him held back, ever mindful of the temporary nature of her stay. He couldn’t let himself get too attached, couldn’t let her see how glad he was to see her.

As Molly’s eyes met his, Elijah wondered if he was fighting a losing battle against his own heart.

Chapter Seventeen

The Beckett family gathered around the weathered oak table, plates piled high with steaming stew and fresh-baked biscuits. Laughter filled the air, punctuated by the clink of silverware against ceramic. Molly sat between Elijah’s sisters, her eyes glistening as she regaled them with tales of past newspaper articles.

“And then,” Molly said, barely containing her mirth, “the mayor’s prize pig escaped right in the middle of his speech.”

The table erupted in laughter. Even Elijah joined in with a deep chuckle. He found his gaze drawn to Molly, marveling at how she fit with his family. Her presence seemed to soften the rough edges of their frontier life.

“Molly, dear,” Naomi said. “You must write about this for the Mystic Gazette. I’m sure Faith would love to publish it.”

Elijah nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a real talent for storytelling, Molly. I’m sure Faith will recognize it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Elijah tensed, worried he’d revealed too much. Busying himself with his plate of stew, he stole glances at Molly from beneath his lashes. The candlelight caught the gold in her hair, and he found himself wanting to slide his fingers through each strand.

“Elijah Beckett,” Molly teased, her eyes twinkling. “Was that almost a compliment?”

He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. “Just stating facts, Miss O’Sullivan. No need to get a big head about it.”

His siblings snickered, and Elijah felt a flush creeping up his neck. He’d never been one for flowery words or grand gestures, but something about Molly made him want to try.

As the meal progressed, he found himself leaning in whenever Molly spoke, hanging on her every word. He caught himself pushing the last biscuit onto her plate, earning a raised eyebrow from his observant mother.

“Molly, how long do you plan on staying in Mystic?” Grayson asked.

The question hung in the air, and Elijah felt his heart skip a beat. He held his breath, waiting for her answer, all the while scolding himself for caring so much.

Molly’s eyes met Elijah’s across the table, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. “Well, I’m finding I quite like it here. I might stick around for a while.”

As the family dispersed after supper, Elijah found himself wandering out to the porch, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. The evening air was cool against his skin, carrying the scent of grass and distant pine. He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Molly’s voice startled him from his reverie.

Elijah turned, drinking in the sight of her silhouetted against the light spilling from the house. “Might not be worth much,” he replied, his tone gruff.

She stepped closer, her skirts rustling softly. “Oh, I doubt that. You Becketts are full of surprises.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “That so?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, joining him at the railing. “For instance, I never pegged you for a biscuit thief.”

He felt heat creep up his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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