Page 37 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

Mack knew that for Molly, the hotel and Jameson represented stability and solidity, the one place and the one person that didn’t change.

His father, for most of her life, had been her rock—and she felt she owed him—but that didn’t mean she had to sacrifice her mental and physical health for him. And it was obvious that she was doing both.

What she needed was a break, some sun, to breathe fresh air. Grateful they weren’t arguing, he pulled himself off the wall and held out his hands. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Molly asked, putting her hands in his and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Man, the woman was a feather. Along with working less, she needed to eat more.

He noticed the three dirty coffee mugs and shook his head. Too much work and way too much caffeine.

That, he decided, was going to change.

“Let’s take a walk.”

Molly nodded, reached for her cell and radio but Mack snatched them away before she could pick them up. Removing his phone from his pocket, he dumped all three devices in the top drawer of her desk and slammed it closed.

“I have to be available.” Molly looked panicked, her corkscrew curls shaking.

“The world won’t stop spinning if we take an hour off. Giada is with Jameson and everyone else can either find their own solution or wait until you return.” Still holding her hands, Mack rested his forehead against hers. “Come walk with me, Mol, and let’s check out for a little bit.”

He saw the acquiescence in her eyes before he heard her small yes, saw her nod. Feeling like he’d both dodged a bullet and won the battle, Mack led her from her office, her hand warm and soft in his.

Eight

Her hand in his, Molly and Mack didn’t speak as they walked down the long driveway toward the main road leading into Asheville. It felt strange not to have her phone in her pocket, her radio in her hand.

Strange but good.

The old cypress trees that lined either side of the driveway were showing off their bright new leaves and she could hear the brook chortling on its way to the lake. In the distance she could see two guests hiking up the steep hill to Tip’s Point, a favorite walk of hers. From the lookout a few miles up the hill, they’d have an awesome view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

She hadn’t done that walk for ages, maybe a year. Two? Three? God, could it possibly be that long?

“You’re frowning,” Mack said, squeezing her hand. “You’re supposed to be relaxing, not thinking.”

Right. Molly tucked her free hand into the front pocket of her pants, conscious that her shoulders were up around her ears. She rolled them back, straightened her spine and made a mental note to find time for a deep massage.

But she knew she wouldn’t; she hadn’t visited the spa for an indulging treatment—waxing didn’t count!—for many months. Possibly even a year or more.

Despite his high-handed manner on this subject, Mack did have a point. She allowed the staff to take advantage of her and she worked too hard.

But it was hard to change the habits of a lifetime. And she owed Jameson her loyalty and her effort—to work for her redemption. Without him, God knew where she’d be.

Mack nudged her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. “Just breathe and, for God’s sake, stop thinking.”

Molly sent him a wry look. That was easier said than done.

“Yeah, I know that’s like asking for the moon but can you at least try?”

Stopping, Molly faced him. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care how stressed I am? Why are you trying to get me to relax?”

“Because you are wound tighter than a spinning top and you have no balance in your life.”

“But why do you care?” Molly demanded. They’d had no contact for so long and it didn’t make sense for him to slide back into his role as protective-in-chief. “I’ve been on my own for a long, long time, Mack, and I can take care of myself.”

Mack lifted his hand to squeeze her left trapezius muscle. His fingers encountered a rock-solid wall and she pulled away from the pain. “You’re stressed to the max, Molly, and, while I’m here and have some sort of power, Iwillmake life easier for you. It’s BS that you work such long hours and that you juggle a hundred balls, ninety of which don’t even belong to you.”

Underneath his designer clothing, expensive cologne and the urbane mask was still the boy who would move heaven and earth for her. It was both wonderful and terrifying.

Mack, she had to remember, had left her, breaking her heart and her spirit. She would not allow that to happen again.

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