Page 42 of A Manny for Christmas

Jesus Christ. Where did that come from?

I blink. ‘Yeah. You look lovely,’ is all I can manage.

‘Thanks, guys,’ Molly says, a self-conscious lilt to her tone.

Jess buggers off, thankfully, leaving me and Molly alone in the hallway. The kids sound happy to see Mike and Mia—the noise level in the TV room has increased substantially since they wandered through.

‘You really do look great,’ I tell her, a little guilty at behaving like an ass. The rational part of my mind knows she deserves to be taken out. Spoilt. That she deserves some attention given everything she does for her kids. It’s just hard to have a front-row seat to her going on a date. God knows what I would have been like if I’d ever had to meet her husband.

‘Thanks.’ She fiddles with the hair tie at the end of one golden plait.

‘Where’s he taking you? Somewhere nice, I hope?

‘We’re going to the farm’s Christmas market,’ she says. ‘Are you off out tonight?’

‘I’m meeting some of Angus’ team down there, actually,’ I lie. ‘Maybe I’ll see you there.’

I’ve been thinking about dragging my brother out for a drink, if he and Evelyn didn’t have plans, but, as of five seconds ago, I intend to go to the market and keep an eye on Molly and her date from a distance.

‘Oh.’ She looks anything but happy with this revelation. ‘Maybe you will.’

‘You meeting him down there?’

‘No. He’s, er, coming here.’

‘That’s nice of him,’ I say, trying and failing to keep the snark out of my tone.

She glares at me. ‘Yes. It’s very nice of him.’

I say nothing, just stand there and enjoy the view. That soft sweater curves over her breasts perfectly. I have a sudden, powerful urge to grab the ends of those plaits and pull her to me, fastening my mouth over hers as I wind the golden ropes around my fists.

My expression must be communicating some of these unsuitable thoughts, because her lips part slightly before she blinks and turns away, bending over to tug on her long, shearling-lined boots. Her position gives me an excellent view of her arse in those tight, tight jeans, and I enjoy it unashamedly.

‘That sweater looks so soft,’ I say, like a total fucking muppet.

She looks back at me. ‘Yeah, it’s got some cashmere in it.’

The doorbell goes again, and we both make a move towards it, but she’s still zipping up her second boot and I get there first. Triumph zings through my bloodstream. I’d guess that Molly wants me anywhere but right here as her date comes to pick her up.

I square my shoulders and swing the door open, planting my feet in a wide stance. The vibe I’m going for is overprotective dad meets rampant male sexuality, if that’s a thing.

Bottom line, I can’t help the sense of perversion that makes me want to send this guy running for the hills.

For fuck’s sake. Even I can tell he’s good-looking. Fair-haired, with those classical, regular features chicks seem to love. He’d also scream money even if there wasn’t an Aston Martin behind him in the driveway. He looks taken aback to see me, but he recovers quickly, shooting me a far-too-friendly grin and pulling off his leather glove before extending a hand. His shake is firm. Manly.

Mine’s manlier.

I squeeze a little harder before releasing.

‘I’m here to see Molly,’ he says. I can practically see his mental gymnastics as he attempts to work out who I am and why I’m answering Molly’s door. ‘I’m Paul—’

‘Hi, Paul!’ A flustered Molly gets her second boot up and pushes past me, leaving me no choice but to stand back. I don’t miss the very fucking approving look in his eyes as he checks her out before leaning in to give her a chaste kiss on each cheek.

That’s all you’re getting tonight, mate.

‘Sorry,’ she continues. ‘This is Max. He’s an old… friend. He’s helping me out with some childcare at the moment.’

‘Ah.’ His face clears as he nods at me. ‘Good to meet you, Max.’

---