Page 118 of The Wild Card
He releases me with a smile. “I’d like that.”
No sooner has the door closed behind them than the room is filled with applause. I turn, and everyone who was seated around the table is standing. Smiling. Clapping.
“For me?” I ask, feeling stupid.
Collin laughs and hugs me right off my feet, carrying me over to the table. “That was brilliant, Molly-girl. I wanted to punch him in the face, which wouldn’t have been the brightest move considering he’s your dad, but you stood up for yourself. Calmly but firmly. And then you even invited him to join us in the planning meeting.”
“I hope that was okay,” I say.
“I mean, I’m glad he said no. But I think it was gracious and mature of you to offer.”
“An excellent example of dealing with unhealthy family things in a healthy way,” Winnie says as Collin puts me down next to the table.
I give a little bow. “Thank you. It was a long time coming, but I feel really good about it.”
“Good,” Collin says, sitting down with a sigh in front of his laptop. “Because we need to get back to all this business planning.”
“That makes it sound so boring,” Winnie says. “I know you don’t like this number-crunching part, so let’s call it something more fun. Likefutureplanning.”
As I take a seat next to Collin and the discussion moves to budgets and projected income and overhead, my mind swirls around Winnie’s words: future planning.
Only I’m envisioning my future with the man whose hand I’m holding under the table.
CHAPTER 27
Collin
“I don’t knowwhy this blindfold is necessary.” Molly crosses her arms over her chest as she feigns a convincing pout in my passenger seat. “I know you’re taking me to your field again, Collin Graham.”
She’s not wrong. But a few things have changed since the last time we came out here—hence the bandana tied around her eyes.
It’s been two weeks since we last drove out here, and a little over a month since James and Winnie got married. A lot has actually changed, and not just regarding the field. Molly set all her social accounts to private, not deleting anything just in case she ever wants to return.
But seeing how much weight she seemed to shed, I doubt she’ll go back. At least not anytime soon.
We’ve also both moved out of Tank’s place in anticipation of him moving in. I miss sharing a space with Molly (in spite of her mess), but she insisted it was important to be on her own—at least for a little bit. And it helped slow things down a little, which is probably a good thing since my every inclination is to jam my foot on the gas and forget things like brakes exist.
I want to do things with Molly right and not rush. But I also don’t want to waste time when I know she’s the one I want to spend forever with.
Right now, I’m working on timing. After she’s worked so hard to gain independence, I want to be sure she feels like she’s had enough time on her own.
“You might be right about our destination,” I say, drumming my fingers excitedly on the wheel. “But the blindfold stays. We’re almost there, so maybe you could calm down.”
“Do you realize how dangerous it is to tell a woman to calm down?”
“I’m just quoting the Taylor Swift song.”
“I think you’remisquoting it, actually.”
“Well, I never did claim to be a Swiftie. Oh, hey—we’re here. Don’t move! And don’t take off the blindfold. I’m coming around to open your door.”
I pull up and park in our usual spot, looking over the field as I do. At a quick glance, not much is different. But the grass has been neatly trimmed, the fading sunlight making the green glint gold. The herd of cows is gone, and a sign has been set up facing the road, which is now paved. I’m surprised Molly didn’t notice. Or maybe she did and was just too busy complaining about the blindfold.
I open her door and lean in to unbuckle her seatbelt, if for no other reason than to smell the whisky buttercream scent that I now know is a combination of her favorite lotion and something that’s justher. Taking her hand, I help Molly out of the car and close the door.
“Is all this really necessary?” she asks, but I can tell by the tiny smile on her lips that she’s just giving me a hard time. “So muchdrama. It’s almost like you’re trying to compete with Pat.”
“Those are fighting words,” I growl. Molly squeals and laughs as I bend and pick her up behind the knees, cradling her against my chest. “I’ll show youdrama.”
