Page 10 of The Wild Card
I ignorefor starters, not sure I want to know what else she’s going to ask of me. “Wait—you’re just going to get into a car with a stranger?”
I’m not a stranger. But she thinks I am. She has no idea that I’m probably the safest option at the festival aside from her brother. Wait—why isn’t she asking Chase for a ride?
My brain shifts back to protective mode. If Molly grabbed some rando from the fair, would she seriously get in a vehicle with him? The caveman inside me grunts and tells me to throw Molly over my shoulder and drag her to my cave where she can’t go around putting herself in unsafe situations.
Chase would have a complete meltdown over this. It would actually be fun to see him lose it, as he’s way more level-headed than my brothers and me. But I owe it to Chase to make sure Molly doesn’t get in the car with a stranger. If I don’t watch out for her and she asks for a ride from someone whoisbad news, I couldn’t live with myself.
Also, Chase would murder me.
“Usually, I wouldn’t.” Molly studies my face, and I wait for the spark of recognition.
Here it comes …
But then she gives me her best attempt at a smile—still forced—and pats the stuffed unicorn I’m holding. “I’m a little desperate at the moment. And serial killers don’t usually walk around with stuffed animals, so I feel pretty safe with you.”
“Maybe this is how I lure my victims—with a stuffed unicorn.” Molly frowns and I realize just how creepy I sounded. “I’m not a serial killer,” I say.
Just like a serial killer would.
“Spoken like a serial killer,” Molly agrees, dropping her hand from my arm and taking a step back. “Becauseobviouslythat’swhat they’d say. On second thought, this is probably a terrible idea. All of it. The whole thing isterrible.”
She looks genuinely distressed, and I feel bad. “I’m happy to give you a ride or whatever else you need.” I give her my very best charming smile, grateful Tank invested heavily in dental work for us all. “Now—are you going to take a chance on a stranger with a stuffed unicorn who claims not to be a serial killer or not?”
Molly hesitates.
I frown. “What’s at stake here with this complicated favor?”
Molly’s face falls, and she drops her gaze to her cowboy boots. They look brand new, which probably means her feet are in a world of hurt right now.
“A job. It’s kind of a long story, but this is about getting a job.”
Molly is looking for a job here? This is news to me. Apparently, no one in this family tells me anything. Molly is visiting Harper and Chaseandshe’s also looking for a job. I wonder when someone planned to fill me in?
“So, you really don’t mind giving me a ride?”
Again, my protectiveness surges, warring with my irritation. “I’ll drive you where you need to go. You’re safe with me. But you shouldn’t assume you are with anyone else. Asking random men for rides is a bad idea.”
My voice has taken on a low, growly tone completely on its own. Molly’s head snaps up and she blinks rapidly at me, lips parted. It’s a very kissable look.
“You’re right.” She tilts her head, studying me, and I think now, finally now, recognition will flash in her eyes. It doesn’t. “But something about you seems trustworthy.”
The compliment doesn’t land as well as it would if she remembered me. I might be trustworthy, but I’m also not memorable.
I start walking. “My truck’s this way.”
Molly scurries along behind me, and I wonder what will happen when she eventually finds out who I am. How will I explain why I played along, pretending not to knowher?
For now, I’ll focus on being her chauffeur who keeps my co-sister-in-law from getting into a motor vehicle with an actual stranger.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into a parking space in front of a nondescript shopping center. Not quite a year ago, my dad bought the historic downtown part of Sheet Cake. There’s a clear line between that and all the new growth out this way, extending toward Austin with a veritable sea of planned communities. We all prefer the older part of town.Ourpart. Molly and I are decidedlynotin my family’s part of town.
“Does this look like the place?”
“This is the address,” Molly says, frowning a little as she leans forward to peer through the windshield. She fidgets, twisting her fingers together in her lap and making no move to get out.
“What?” I ask, and she jumps.
“What?”
