Page 48 of Protecting What Is Mine

“Damn girl, of course you can.” I chuckle. “How’s a man supposed to argue with a line like that, anyway? Besides, this way you can tell me what happened on the drive home.”

* * *

Mollie fills me in on the happenings of her day as I drive. I almost wreck twice—so all things considered, I’d say I handle the news well. When I turn onto the gravel drive, Diesel stands a hundred yards or so ahead of us, growling and barking and trying to scare us away. That is, until he recognizes the truck, at which point he squats down, ready to play, and tries his best to race us to the barn.

Distracted by the sight of him, Mollie is beside herself with laughter watching Diesel foolishly chasing behind. “What’s gotten into him?”

“Wish I knew,” I say, shaking my head. Maybe there’s something in the dog food I bought? Damn boy has so much energy, I’d bottle it if I could.”

For a moment, I think Diesel might have been just what the doctor ordered to lighten her spirit, but after we park and give the dog a few minutes of rubbing and scratching and throwing his ball, the stress returns to Mollie’s face.

“Let’s get you inside and out of this heat. How’s chicken sound? I’ve got some breasts I can throw on the grill. Drizzle some barbecue sauce on top. Huh?” I nudge Mollie’s arm. “Huh? Is your mouth watering yet?”

She glances my way and offers a half-smile as we enter the house. I watch as she sits on the couch and uses her hand to fan the conditioned air of the living room on her tension covered face. I want to take it all away, but don’t know where to start. She told me about her day, shared her fears and feelings, but I’ll be damned if there’s not something else, something she’s not ready to share yet, and I need to respect her space and give her the time she needs.

I take a breath and let out a heavy sigh. “Hey hot stuff,” I chuckle. “I need to fire up the grill and pick some veggies from the garden for our salad. You want to come with, or relax here in the A/C and cool down a little?”

Mollie turns her attention away from the view outside the window and nods. “Sounds good.”

“Uh, alright. Be right back.” I shake my head, confident she’s lost to her thoughts and didn’t hear a word I said.

I pull a large bowl out of the cabinet before heading outside and wandering over to the garden while the grill heats up. A couple fresh tomatoes, a cucumber, some snow peas—just in case—mixed with some Buttercrunch lettuce I have in the fridge and I’m starting to think this may end up being one of my all-time best ideas.

Garden vegetables in hand, I see that the grill is heated up, so I turn down the burners on my way back in the house.

That’s the secret to great grilled chicken, ya gotta cook it low and slow.

Inside, Mollie’s too far gone to notice I’m back. I whisper her name as I place my hand on her shoulder, and she jumps in her seat, then looks up apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

I set the vegetables in the sink and run cold water over them while I work on preparing the chicken. “Mol, I hate seeing you like this. And I’m not okay with sitting around waiting to see what your crazy family’s going to do next. I’ve got to do something.”

Despondent, she answers, “I hate feeling this way too. But we’ve already gone to the police. That clearly didn’t do anything to deter them. What else is there to do but sit around and wait?”

I begin to respond but realize this isn't a casual topic. This deserves my undivided attention. “Hold that thought for just a minute, okay?” I lift the plate of raw chicken. “Let me get these cooking.” I step outside and open the cover on the grill wide, allowing the temperature to settle back into the range I like before I spread the chicken out and apply a healthy coating of sauce. I leave the lid propped open with a wedge of scrap metal.

Slow and low. That’s the secret.

An idea hits me and I’m so excited by it, I can’t get inside fast enough. I close the door and sit at the table across from Mollie, twining my fingers through hers. “Okay so I was thinking, all we can do is wait…right? I don’t like it either, but that’s the hand we were dealt…” I bring her hand to my mouth and deposit a kiss on each of her fingers. “But it’s up to us how we play it. You know what I’m saying?”

Mollie smiles at the show of affection but lifts a brow in response to my question. “Uh, no. I don’t think I follow.”

“So, we have to wait…doesn’t mean you have to do it stuck in your house, smothered in fear, waiting for Clint or your uncle to pull another stunt.” I grimace at the next thought. “Work on the other hand? Well, we can’t do much about that, short of you quitting, but at least it’s a public place. Even they would only dare go so far. Right?”

Mollie does not appear nearly as excited by my plan as I am.

“What I’m saying is—you and Sam and Vanessa should come and stay with me.” I make a ta-da motion with my hands, fully expecting the idea to make as much sense to Mollie as it does to me.

Her response is mixed. The smile on her face says she likes the thought, but the shake of her head as she attempts to politely decline says something else entirely.

“Wait. Just wait a sec. I know I offered once before, and I respect Sam’s reasons for not taking me up on it. At the time. But now? I think things have escalated sufficiently since then that it’s the right answer. Don’t you?”

Mollie’s smile fades. “I can’t come without them. I just…I couldn’t live with myself if I were here and they were there, and something happened.”

“Me neither, babe. It’s a family deal.” I squeeze her hand. “There’s plenty of room. And besides, you said yourself once she sees him, Vanessa’s going to fall in love with Diesel. We just have to get Sam here, so she can see for herself.”

Mollie stands and walks over to my side of the table, crawling into my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re one in a million,” she says before kissing me.

I pull away. “One in a million? Jeez, is that all? I’ve always thought of myself as one of a kind.”

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