Page 31 of Moonlit Kisses

Aaron sighs. “Sucks to be you.”

I take a sip of my beer. “It most certainly fucking does.”

We don’t need to say anything else. Aaron gets where I’m coming from. That’s what years of friendship and support give us.

When we arrive back at the booth, Gary is giving Molly a rundown of the baby’s stage of development and Molly’s enthralled. I place the beer in front of her and she glances up to mouth ‘thank you’ and then returns her full attention to Gary. I can’t help but note the difference again between Mona and Molly with my friends. Mona would never have shown any interest in Gary and Layla’s pregnancy, because Mona was all about Mona.

The pizzas arrive and everyone’s quiet as they dig into the deliciously cheesy treat. Molly’s oblivious to a piece of stretchy cheese that’s landed on her chin as she chats with the guys. Reaching across, I pinch it between my fingers, pull it away and drop it into my mouth. When I glance back across the table, Aaron’s studying me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrug in response. It would be different if Molly seemed offended, but she gave me a brief smile, then took another huge bite of her slice of pizza.

I love that she’s not shy about eating her food in front of others. I guess her daily run allows her to eat whatever she wants without worrying about calories, like most women, or maybe she just enjoys food.

Gary makes a move to leave, and I check in with Molly. “Are you happy to stay, or are you ready to head home?”

“I wouldn’t mind heading home if you don’t mind. I’ve got another late night tomorrow night and I want to get up early enough for my run in the morning.” I still don’t know where she volunteers. Maybe I’ll ask her on the drive back to her car.

We say goodbye to everyone, Molly promising to be at next week’s game. I can’t stop my smirk, knowing she’ll be back again next week. I nudge her shoulder with mine. “See, the guys really like having you around.”

Her smile drops and her shoulders slump. “Yeah, I guess so.” She turns her face away from me as we climb into my car.

“You okay?” I can’t help but notice her mood’s changed considerably since we stepped outside.

She shrugs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

I grew up with two sisters. I know for a fact that when a woman says she’s okay, in that tone, that she’s not fucking okay. It means I’ve done something wrong. I just don’t know what it is.

I open the passenger door for her, then lean down after she situates herself to strap the safety belt on. I suck in a sharp breath as my arm brushes against her tit. That was a fucking mistake because her scent fills my lungs and wakes up my dick, which is becoming a perpetual problem the more time I spend with this woman. I turn my head to check she hasn’t noticed, putting my lips close to hers. And there’s my second fucking mistake. Her lips are right there. Slightly parted, as though she’s waiting for me to kiss her. I glance away from her lips, catching on her molten eyes.

Fucking stunning.

I could lean forward ever so slightly, and my mouth could take hers. I could taste her. Would she taste as sweet as she fucking looks? I pull back slightly, saving myself from a possible lawsuit.

Is that disappointment marring her gorgeous features? Or is that wishful thinking on my part?

Closing her door, I use the opportunity as I make my way around to the driver’s side to calm my dick down. She doesn’t need her boss making inappropriate advances. I need a distraction. “You never told me where you’ve been volunteering.”

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh, uhm, I volunteer over atShelteron Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s a women’s homeless shelter.”

Of course, she does, because she isn’t sweet enough already. “I know the one. Big red brick building.”

She smiles. “Yeah, that’s the one. I used to volunteer at a shelter back home.” I’m struggling with the irony that she was sleeping in her car the whole time she’s been here—well, I’m assuming that’s what she was doing—and then she volunteers in her free time at a women’s shelter.

“Any reason why you choose to spend your free time helping homeless women?” Her body stiffens and I can see her physically and emotionally shut down. I thought it would be a reasonable question. After all, she asked me a similar question about my Single Parent Thursdays. “Sorry. That was possibly too intrusive. You don’t have to answer.”

Her hand moves to fidget with the bracelet she wears. “Oh, uh, that’s okay.” She turns her head toward the passenger window, dropping her voice to barely above a whisper. “My mom and I were, uh … were homeless until I was eleven.”

My head snaps toward her. Surely, I heard that wrong. Slowly she turns and our eyes connect, but not for long, because I need to keep my eyes on the road. I swallow down the thousands of questions that battle for release. “That must have been tough.”What a fucking understatement.No wonder she had no problem living in her car.

We pull into the parking lot and I don’t want to let her go. I want to know what her life was like as she was growing up. My head can’t even go there. It’s so far removed from my childhood. The silence in the car sits heavy like Lachlan’s weighted blanket. She turns in her seat, so her body is facing me and I want to scoop her up and sit her on my lap.

I want to grasp the back of her head under the fall of her silky hair and pull her into me, so I can kiss those plump lips of hers.

I want to give her a home that will always be hers.

But I can’t do any of those things.

I turn forward, staring out of the windscreen, grinding my teeth to stop myself from asking her to stay awhile. To sit and chat. Out of my periphery, I see her lean closer to me and as I turn my head, my lips brush against hers. They’re warm and soft and I want to press in deeper, take her mouth with mine.

I don’t know where all of this is coming from. It’s an impossible situation. I can’t go there with her. I don’t move, but she swiftly pulls away as though she’s been scorched.

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