Page 32 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

He didn’t know how to deal with this outpouring of...whatever was causing Molly to fall apart in his arms. Oh, her brothers were pricks, but Molly had never reacted like this, not even when her brothers decapitated her Barbie dolls or tore pages out of her beloved books. Molly was a fighter, strong as hell, and to hear her sobs coming from a place deeper than pain, scared the crap out of him.

What was going on with her?

Oh, he knew she was a workaholic and a perfectionist and that she had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Had her long work hours caught up with her? Were her brothers the final straw of what had been a long few weeks and months? Was she worried about Jameson? Had his return stressed her out?

What was going on behind her pretty eyes and underneath her gorgeous hair? He needed to know. Because, God, he needed to fix this. As quick as he could. Because he’d still do pretty much anything for Molly.

She was still, despite years and time and distance, his best friend.

And the woman he very badly wanted to see naked again. And as soon as possible.

However, this wasn’t the time to think about the way she smelled—delicious—the way she tasted—fantastic—and the low, breathy, soft moans she made when she came.

Wrong time, wrong place, Holloway. Get your act together.

They weren’t far from the steel bridge and if they crossed it, it was a short walk to the pond. The pond was their special place, where Mack taught her how to skip stones and to swim. On the banks of that pretty pond, sitting on the branches of the cypress tree hanging over the edge of the pond and later in the treehouse he’d built with his brothers, they’d shared their fears, their deepest desires, their dreams and their hopes.

It was where they’d lost their virginity that summer night... He’d been so damn nervous, in awe of her and the passion between them.

If there was one place on the property he could get Molly to talk, the pond was it.

Ten long minutes later Mack sat on a cushion on the smooth deck of the fantastic treehouse that had replaced the one he and his brothers built as teenagers. Following Molly up the spiral staircase, he took in the cheerful interior complete with a comfortable couch, easy chairs and a galley kitchen. Beyond the lounge was a bedroom and a bathroom, and a wraparound deck gave them three-sixty views of the pond and the mountains. Where they sat was directly over the pond, and a misstep could result in a dip right into it.

It was fabulous.

Mack looked at Molly, who’d stopped crying but her face was still pale, her eyes fixed on the clear water of the pond below. “When was this built?”

“Five years ago. We thought it would be a fun place for teenagers to camp out on summer nights,” she said with a shrug.

Mack nodded to the open deck and the lack of a safety railing. “Isn’t that a safety violation?”

“The contractor fell ill before he could finish the job and since there has not been a single booking for the treehouse in all that time, we haven’t bothered to get it fixed. I think I’m the only one who ever spends any time here.”

“I should get back to work,” she added, a few minutes later.

She’d said variations of the same sentence five times since she stopped crying and, just like before, Mack ignored this version, too. She’d bitched about taking the time, about coming to the pond, but Mack ignored all her protestations. He was going to discover what was going on with Molly Haskell and if that meant keeping her in this treehouse for the foreseeable future, that was what he’d do.

Mack stared at her lovely profile, her skin still a little blotchy from her earlier bout of tears.

“Spill, Haskell,” he told her.

Molly turned her face to him and lifted her eyebrows, trying to hit arrogance and missing by a country mile. “Excuse me?”

Mack ignored her frigid voice. “What’s going on with you?” Her mouth opened and he carried on speaking before she could. “And don’t you dare tell menothing!”

“I’m not sure what you are talking about, Mack. I apologize for crying earlier.”

Okay, they’d start there. “So why were you crying?”

Molly turned her attention back to the water. “I’m a little tense.”

Pfft. “Nice try, Curls. You’re not a little tense. You are massivelystressed. You work insane hours. You don’t stop. You have no social life and rarely leave the premises. I thought I was committed to my job but you’re twice the workaholic I am.”

“Jameson is sick. I’ve been trying to do his work as well as mine,” Molly said, defensively.

“But I’m here now and one of the reasons for me being here is to take the pressure off you. That hasn’t happened and I’m wondering why not. Have you always been like this?”

“I work hard. It’s what I do.”

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