A Proposal For The Officer
Christy Jeffries
She was used to flying solo…Combat pilot Molly Markham didn’t come to Sugar Falls to get serious about a man she barely knows! But when billionaire Kaleb Chatterson becomes her unexpected hero, she agrees to date him to keep their secret. All’s well until Kaleb starts to turn into the man of her dreams…
She was used to flying solo...
But that was before Kaleb came on board!
Temporarily grounded combat pilot Molly Markham didn’t come to Sugar Falls to get serious about a man she barely knows! But when Kaleb Chatterson becomes her unexpected hero, she agrees to date the billionaire software developer to keep their secret from getting out. Except the sexy brainiac—and her pretend boyfriend—is fast turning into the man of her dreams...
CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology, and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummy-hood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com (http://www.christyjeffries.com).
Also by Christy Jeffries (#ulink_fb2a4eeb-2b14-5f3b-a964-266ef00a40f3)
A Family Under the StarsThe Makeover PrescriptionThe Matchmaking TwinsFrom Dare to Due DateWaking Up WedA Marine for His Mom
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A Proposal for the Officer
Christy Jeffries
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07741-5
A PROPOSAL FOR THE OFFICER
© 2018 Christy Jeffries
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Brooklyn Bender, one of my best friends and a wealth of knowledge when it comes to Boston, Top Gun, hockey, New Kids On The Block and type 1 diabetes. Thank you for answering my endless questions. You’re never stingy when it comes to giving me feedback, constructive or otherwise. IAJS.
Contents
Cover (#ubb402697-8d16-5152-8554-e4b660d3b867)
Back Cover Text (#u7c096cc6-3d0a-5356-a4db-c526e1a28faa)
About the Author (#u484a43a7-e1fa-51d2-9319-e9250c804467)
Booklist (#ub946bb1e-c79e-58e0-820c-f394c0a05009)
Title Page (#u42c2a0ae-c956-5b3c-800f-f85e42d59f4a)
Copyright (#uf0e95131-7bbd-5140-924d-342f84c6cde1)
Dedication (#u60ebca5c-04e8-533d-b1b6-eccfc35907af)
Chapter One (#u286cc86c-a76e-5948-afc8-55e90bd5a10f)
Chapter Two (#ub03d6f8d-d24d-5bca-abc9-eaebea51d374)
Chapter Three (#ua4525934-2598-503b-81e6-af334d329622)
Chapter Four (#u1cae6b46-efe6-5ebb-b52b-ef9ecb0e7b33)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_a9a0451a-d8db-584d-8549-d4ca96c68ed4)
Leaning against a stack of cases of bottled water, Captain Molly Markham put a hand to her head as nausea overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes for a second, she debated whether or not she was at risk of passing out right there in the middle of Duncan’s Market. She grabbed a liter of water off the shelf, unscrewed the cap and took a big swig. Her mouth was dry and suddenly her body felt weighted down.
Oh, no. It was happening again.
She’d sworn to the Bureau of Personnel reviewing her medical board that she could keep these episodes under control, but apparently they’d been right to doubt her.
Molly heaved herself off the tower of water and put one foot in front of the other, needing to get as far away from the curious glances of the shoppers who were sure to know her sister, Maxine, and would be only too eager to ask Maxine about her little sister’s “incident” out in public.
She needed space and she needed to think. Maybe somewhere to lie down, too. Like her rental car. She grabbed another bottle and made it to the exit before she realized she’d left her purse back in the grocery basket. Damn. She also hadn’t paid for the water.
When she did a one-eighty, her hip banged into a giant bag of ice. Or was it a bag of limes? A man dropped both as he reached out a hand to steady her.
That was gonna leave a bruise. The ice, not the guy’s hand. His grip was actually gentle and balanced her. His black framed glasses made him look smart, serious. Maybe he was a doctor. Or a reporter.
He kind of had a Clark Kent vibe going for him. At least from the neck up. She took in his blue hooded sweatshirt and checkered canvas sneakers. Maybe The Daily Planet had sent him to do an undercover exposé of a nearby skate park.
“Are you okay?” He enunciated like a record player on a low speed. Or was it her hearing that was set to slow motion? It felt like someone had replaced her brain with hot, heavy sand. She licked her lips.
“Of course I’m okay. At least, I think I am.” Molly lowered her own voice when she noticed the cashier staring in their direction. “By any chance, do you know how many carbs are in a fruit smoothie?”
His straight white teeth were visible beneath his smirk. “Probably a lot more than the ones in that peach muffin you gobbled down back by the juice bar thirty minutes ago.”
“Oh, crap.” It was good thing he was holding on to her arm because trying to mentally calculate how much sugar she’d recently ingested made her want to sink to her knees. “The teenager behind the counter said they were organic.”
“You mean the kid who also told you the baked goods on display were half price since they’d been sitting out since this morning and it was now late afternoon?”
Wait. How did this guy know what she’d talked about with the store employee? “Have you been following me?”
“No. I was sitting at that wrought iron table in the back of the store, trying to answer some work emails, but a bunch of clanging drew my attention to the display of soup cans at the end of an aisle. You were stocking up on the minestrone as though a blizzard had just been predicted.” He tapped something on his watch and showed her the sunshine icon on the tiny display screen. “It hasn’t, by the way. But then I saw you again when you were slouching against your shopping cart in the freezer section where you almost took out a display of ice-cream cones. Are you going to be sick or something?”
She didn’t feel any less confused after that description of her sluggish attempts to make her way through the store. Or dizzy. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he said, and moved his hand to the small of her back. “There’s a bench right outside and you can sit down.”
“I need my purse,” she said. You also needed to use the restroom, her bladder said.
“Where is it?” he asked.
The guy looked familiar, but his non-military-regulation hairstyle eliminated him as someone she’d served with. Molly had only been in Sugar Falls a few hours, yet her gut told her this man wasn’t a local, either. Of course, she’d also been pretty convinced that anything with fruit in it was healthy so perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to listen to her instincts.
Who are you? she wanted to know. But she didn’t exactly have time for formal introductions. Instead, she replied, “Back by the bottled water.”
“Okay, stay here,” he ordered as he sprinted away. Yeah, right. Molly wasn’t about to stand around and wait. She weaved toward the parking lot, her only plan to get to the safe privacy of her rental car.
Her feet had barely hit the pavement when the Good Samaritan jogged up beside her, her very feminine tote bag swinging from his very masculine shoulder. “Should I call someone?”
“No,” Molly said, her eyelids widening in frustration despite the fact that she wanted to close them and take a nap. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“To know what?”
She clamped her teeth together, wishing she would’ve done so sooner to keep those telling words from slipping out.
“Never mind.” She pulled the key fob out of her pocket. “The little white Toyota over there is mine.”
“I seriously doubt you should be driving right now.”
“I’ve got it,” she ground out, despite the fact that she was practically leaning against him as he steered her toward the passenger side of her rental car. She collapsed down on the seat as soon as he got the door open, then she began digging in her purse.
Another wave of nausea tumbled through her as she unzipped a small black case. Ignoring the man’s raised brows, she turned on the little machine, inserted a fresh test strip and pricked her finger. It took all of her focus to press the droplet of blood to the litmus paper. There was a series of beeps before the dinging alarm signaled that her glucose level was way too high. Stupid smoothie. And muffin. She should’ve known better. And she would have, if she hadn’t been so starving after dropping her nephew off at baseball practice. She’d thought she’d been so smart, swinging by the market to pick up real groceries instead of grabbing a Snickers at the Little League snack bar while she waited.
It seemed to take hours for her to dial the correct dose on her insulin pen.
“What are you doing?” The panic in his voice probably matched the horror in his eyes. But Molly didn’t have the energy to explain. She pulled up the hem of her shirt, not caring that she was exposing herself to the poor man. She could administer the shot in her arms or thighs, but the doctor said it would get into her system a lot quicker if she injected it into her stomach. She didn’t even feel the sting of the needle and could only hope she’d landed it into the right spot before depressing the plunger.
“Lady, I really think we need to call an ambulance,” he said, his once-calm voice now sounding about as shaky as her nerve endings felt.
“I’ll be good as new in a second.” She made a circle with her finger and her thumb in the universal signal for A-OK. “The insulin will help even everything out.”
He kneeled on the pavement next to her, and she heard the hearty exhale of breath leaving his mouth. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“I’m feeling better already.” And it was true. She was. But Molly knew from the last time her blood sugar had spiked like this, it would take a little while to return to normal. She looked at the pulse jumping inside his neck and felt a wave of guilt wash over her. If this was how a complete stranger reacted to her hyperglycemia attack, how would her sister react? Or the rest of her family?
“Sorry for scaring you,” she added, more resolved than ever to keep her recent diagnosis a secret. “I would’ve been fine on my own.”
“You sure didn’t look fine.” His head slumped back against the open car door behind him, then he scrubbed a hand over his lower face. A handsome face actually. The trendy glasses made him look scholarly, but the square jawline made him look determined. Like he wasn’t willing to leave her alone until he knew all the answers. “Does that happen often?”
Molly wished she knew. It wasn’t like the time she got chicken pox, the itchy red scabs on her torso a constant reminder that she was sick. Curbing her sugar intake was tough enough, but remembering to stay on top of her glucose levels was even trickier since most of the time she felt perfectly fine. As a pilot, Molly had to be “combat ready” at all times. Sometimes she was on duty for twenty-four to forty-eight hours straight, which meant there was no way to ensure that she could eat on a certain schedule to maintain her insulin coverage. The military wasn’t going risk both a multi-million-dollar plane and the flight crew because the pilot had hypoglycemia. Everything was still so unpredictable when it came to the disease she’d officially been diagnosed with over a month ago. According to the specialists, that unpredictability meant she could no longer do the only thing she loved.
She drew in a ragged breath and shrugged. “I’m still new to the wonderful world of diabetes.”
“Wait. Why would you eat that much sugar if you’re diabetic?” His expression looked the same as if he’d just asked, Why in the world would you pull the pin out of that perfectly good grenade?
“Because the guy behind the counter said it was healthy.”
“And you take nutritional advice from a kid who isn’t even old enough to shave?”
Kid! The realization made her scalp tingle and she felt her eyelids stretching wide-open. She was officially the worst babysitter in the world.
“I need to get to the ballpark. Now.”
* * *
“Lady, you’re in no shape to be driving right now, let alone playing ball.” Kaleb Chatterson adjusted his glasses while slipping the car key he still held into the front pocket of his hoodie. Normally, he had an army of assistants and interns he could’ve sent to the local grocery store to pick up the ingredients for his dad’s margaritas. But he’d needed a break from his parents’ nosy questions about his social life and his brothers’ incessant teasing about the lack of one.
Coming to the aid of some strange woman in the middle of a medical crisis wasn’t exactly what he’d anticipated when he’d volunteered for the errand.
“I’m not the one playing.” She rolled her eyes, which were a deep shade of blue. “My nephew is. I’m supposed to pick him up from baseball practice at 1630.”
Kaleb noted her use of military time and filed that nugget of information in the back of his mind. “How long does it usually take for you to recover from one of these, um, episodes?”
“Well, last time it took a couple of hours, but I got the insulin dose sooner this time so half that, maybe?”
Kaleb’s stomach balled into a knot. He’d once had a crate of antibacterial hand sanitizer delivered to the office when several employees came down with a minor cold. He didn’t do sickness or injuries or anything that might hint at the human body’s susceptibility to disease. He most assuredly was not the person to go to in a medical crisis. And while it seemed as though the lady now had a decent handle on her situation, he would feel a lot more at ease if they had a second opinion. “Listen, my brother’s fiancée is a doctor. Let me call her and she can drive over and check you out.”
Or check him out. Luckily, his adrenaline was pumping his blood around so hard he wasn’t likely to faint. Hopefully. He stayed squatted down, close to the ground. Just in case.
“No way. Especially not here where everyone in town would see me.”
He eyed the barcode sticker on the rear window of her car, a sure sign that it was a rental. “Are you a local?”
“God, no. I’m just in town visiting my sister and her family. What about you?”
“I’m from Seattle. So if you’re not from here, what does it matter if someone sees you?”
“Long story and I’m about to be late.” She pulled up her blousy sleeve and looked at the sturdy chronograph watch. Her hand and forearm were equally tan, but a thin line of skin around her ring finger was strikingly white.
Telling himself that he wasn’t one of his comic-book heroes and the lady beside him probably wouldn’t like being considered a damsel in distress, Kaleb did what he always did when he was out of his league. He pulled out his phone, tapped on the voice to text feature and spoke into the speaker. “Angela, find out how to recover from low blood sugar.”
“High blood sugar,” the woman corrected him. Yeah, that made more sense considering how much she ate at once.
“Make that high blood sugar,” he said into the phone, then nodded toward her lap. “Would you mind putting that thing away?”
“What, this?” She lifted up the object and Kaleb felt the color drain out of his face. “It’s just a needle. You’re not afraid of it, are you?”
“It looks like someone attached a syringe to Dr. Who’s sonic screwdriver.”
A blank look crossed her face. “What’s a sonic screwdriver?”
“Sorry. Geek reference.” An embarrassing flush normally would’ve brought his color back with a vengeance after that less-than-cool admission, but he was woozily watching her put the cap back on her insulin pen and zip it up in its case.
After several uncomfortable moments, the lady next to him broke the silence. “Who’s Angela?”
“One of my assistants.”
“Just one of them?”
He was saved from having to respond to her sarcastic question by the pinging of his phone. Several texts full of copied and pasted information flooded his screen.
“Hold on,” Kaleb said as he read.
However, he was easily distracted by the woman beside him. Now that her color was returning, he could see that there was an edge to her girl-next-door appearance, an attitude that implied she wouldn’t back down from a fight. She opened a bottle of water sitting in her center console and chugged it until the plastic concaved into itself. Then she used the back of her hand to wipe the dampness from her mouth. “Angela certainly is fast.”
He nodded. That was why he paid her the second highest salary in his company. “Okay, so it says here that, depending on the levels, it can take one to several hours to feel better. She’s also suggesting you drink more water and then eat something high in protein and complex carbs once your blood glucose levels return to a normal range.”
“An hour? I can’t very well sit out here in my car until I’m feeling better. Would you mind giving me a ride?”
“To the ER?” He felt his calf muscles clench, making him eager to stand up and run in the opposite direction. God, Kaleb hated hospitals more than he hated needles. Having multiple medical procedures during one’s adolescence tended to do that to a person.
“No. Just to pick up my nephew.”
“Can’t you get someone else to pick him up?”
She looked at him as if he’d just asked her to hack into the CIA’s router network. “His mom, my sister, left town this weekend on something called a ‘babymoon’ and put me in charge. I can’t very well call her and say, ‘Oops, sorry, I forgot to pick up your son because I was in a diabetic crisis.’”
“Actually, that’s exactly what you could do. Maybe he can get a ride home with a friend?”
“Right. And then my sister would find out and wonder why I couldn’t handle it myself.”
Kaleb seriously doubted that this woman slouched on the seat next to him could handle it. His heart constricted and his head was heavy, which was why he had to keep it supported against the door behind him as he balanced beside her, their bodies only a few inches apart. He of all people knew what it was like to not want someone—especially an overly concerned family member—to think he was weak or needed help.
Still. He was shocked when she turned those pretty blue eyes on him and asked, “Can you give me a ride to the baseball field?”
His throat closed in on itself as if it were the plastic water bottle she’d just drained. He coughed to clear it. “But...you don’t know me.”
“Hi, I’m Molly.”
Instinctively, because his mom had drilled good manners into him, he put his hand out and shook hers. “Kaleb.”
“Good. Now we know each other.”
“But you don’t know if I’m a criminal,” he argued.
“I know that you’re the type to rush to aid a stranger, which means you have a hero complex.”
“Ha,” he snorted. His brothers would argue that he was the least heroic of all of them, or at least the most self-absorbed. “Maybe I have a villain complex and you’re too weak to have figured it out yet.”
“I am not weak.” Her piercing look sent a chill down the back of his neck. He’d always associated the name Molly with a lovable cocker spaniel. But right this second, she looked more like a pissed-off Chihuahua. “Besides, a villain would’ve already robbed me or kidnapped me by now. And bad guys don’t have trusty assistants named Angela.”
“So you’re the expert on bad guys?” Why was he arguing with her about this? Just tell her you don’t want to give her a ride. Because he suddenly found himself actually wanting to take her anywhere she needed to go. She looked so delicate and fragile, yet he had a feeling there was a spine of steel under that petite frame. Plus, she was a mystery, a riddle, and he didn’t like leaving things unsolved.
“If you’d met my ex, you’d quickly figure out that I’m definitely not an expert on jerks.” He raised a brow at that little admission and she clamped her eyes shut. “God, forget I said that.”
Too late. Kaleb never forgot anything.
“Sir,” a cashier with salt-and-pepper dreadlocks called as she crossed the parking lot. “You forgot your ice and your limes.”
“Oh, geez, don’t let anyone see me like this.” Molly slouched lower in the seat. Great, now she was a cowering Chihuahua. “They’ll tell my sister.”
Kaleb sighed and stood up. He jogged toward the cashier, trying to meet her halfway.
“Thanks, Donae,” he said, reading the name tag on her apron. His father always said that people gave better service when you used their first name. Kaleb usually avoided the practice because it tended to invite familiarity when he was usually trying to keep the public from recognizing him. But he had a feeling he’d need all the allies he could get if he was going to survive the next ten days in this small town.
Kaleb took the dripping bag from Donae’s hand and set it down on the asphalt. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Listen, my friend isn’t feeling well and she left her shopping cart in aisle eight. Would you mind ringing those things up and throwing in a liter of water and one of the prewrapped turkey sandwiches from the deli section?”
“No problem, Mr. Chatterson,” she replied. Ugh, that was why he didn’t do familiarity. It gave strangers the impression that they knew him, which was fine if they’d limit their long-winded conversations to his work life and not to which model or actress or pop singer he’d recently dated. Fortunately, Donae only gave him a wide smile and took the large bills he passed her. “And just so you know, your sister, Kylie, called the store a couple of minutes ago asking if you’d left yet. I told her you were on your way. You want me to call her back?”
His jaw went stiff and he fought off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Just like that, one mention of his awaiting family cemented Kaleb’s decision on whether he was going to give cute, determined Molly a ride to get her nephew. “Would you mind telling my sister something came up and I have to help out a friend?”
Okay, so “friend” was a generous description. In fact, Kaleb sincerely doubted his new acquaintance wouldn’t have already blasted out of the parking lot without so much as a wave if he hadn’t pocketed her car keys.
He hefted the ice into the bed of his dad’s lifted, half-ton truck, knowing he’d have to stop somewhere and get another bag before returning to his sister’s. Wiping a wet hand on his pant leg, he walked to Molly’s car to check on her. She was dozing in the passenger seat and he wondered if he should wake her up. No. That was for concussions, not diabetes. At least he thought so. Hell, he was a software developer, not a doctor. And he certainly wasn’t a damn taxi driver.
But a few minutes later, when the cashier pushed out a cart of bagged groceries, he told Donae to keep the change before loading them in the back of Molly’s hatchback.
Kaleb was often reminded of the fact that he was the shortest of all the Chatterson brothers, yet he still had to slide the driver’s seat back to accommodate his six-foot frame. He started the car and the stereo shot to life. If the booming bass of hip-hop wasn’t loud enough to wake Molly up, the vibration of the cheap speakers through the vinyl seats would’ve done the trick.
“This is for when your levels stabilize.” He tossed the wrapped sandwich on her lap and asked, “So how do I get to the baseball park from here?”
Chapter Two (#ulink_bd9dae89-06cf-5d62-bba0-1752b4fa2b65)
“This bread has seeds in it,” Molly said as she examined the turkey sandwich he’d given her. She was already dehydrated and couldn’t afford to use the little saliva she could muster to swallow some tasteless looking cardboard.
“It’s whole grain.” Kaleb spoke slowly, as though he was explaining jet propulsion to a kindergartner. “It’s one of those complex carbs you’re supposed to eat once you drink enough fluid to flush out all the excess sugar from your system.”
Her unsolicited rescuer was sure turning out to be quite the know-it-all.
“I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to be eating and drinking.” As if to prove it, she took another long swig of the water he’d thoughtfully purchased after she’d already downed an entire bottle.
“Forgive me for doubting that when I overheard you asking some clueless teenager at the juice bar if the strawberry-banana smoothie was low in sugar.”
“Well, I will be aware. As soon as I meet with the nutritionist at Shadowview.” Molly actually had several appointments at the nearby military hospital, but she’d been putting them off. She could only handle one tailspin at a time.
“So you are in the military.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Technically, she was. But she didn’t know for how much longer. Ever since the flight surgeon wrote up a medical board determining that her recently diagnosed condition made her ineligible to fly, Molly had refused to think about where her career was headed. So instead, she changed the subject. “You can stop looking at the map on your phone. I know where we’re going.”
“But my GPS is saying it’s quicker to take Snowflake Boulevard to Lake Street.”
“Does your GPS also say that Lake Street is blocked off today because the high school drill team is practicing for next week’s Sun Potato Parade?”
“Hmpf.” His hand reluctantly dropped the fancy high-tech device into the center console, then loosely gripped it, as though he might need to grab it again at any second. “It probably would if there was a Sun Potato Parade app available to download.”
“You can talk to my nephew about inventing one. He lives for dorky tech stuff like that.” Molly saw Kaleb’s hand clench tighter around his phone and she wondered what she could’ve said to annoy him. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she might’ve asked him. She pointed to the next stop sign. “Make a left up here.”
“Speaking of your nephew, won’t he think there’s something wrong if you show up with a stranger?”
“I’ll tell him I had too much to drink.” She felt the deceleration of the car before she realized he’d completely taken his foot off the gas pedal. She let her head roll to the side, which was a mistake since it only afforded her a full view of his handsome—and doubt-filled—face.
“You’d rather people think you were drunk than diabetic?” His incredulous tone hit her in the belly with a force. Or maybe she was still sore from where she’d given herself that shot. “Are you seriously that desperate to keep this from your family?”
“Desperate is a strong word,” she said cautiously. In fact, it sounded a lot like weak. And she was neither. “I’m simply protecting them from worrying about me. And I didn’t mean alcohol. His mom warned him not to have too much soda this weekend because it would give him a bellyache. So I was going to go that route.”
He made a weird mumbling sound as he pulled into the parking lot. All the other kids must’ve already been picked up because poor Hunter was the only boy waiting by the bleachers. She curled her fingers into her palm, unable to release the guilt building inside her. Molly came from a big, busy family with at least one parent usually off on deployment. Getting forgotten at school or left behind at soccer practice was an all too familiar feeling and she hated that her condition was now affecting others.
She leaped out of the passenger door before Kaleb had even put the car in Park. Well, she didn’t leap so much as stumble on shaky legs, feeling as if she’d just stepped onto solid ground after a ten-hour flight in a cramped cockpit.
“Sorry I’m so late, buddy,” she said, wrapping her twelve-year-old nephew into a bear hug, made all the more awkward by the fact that he’d shot up a couple inches taller than her this past winter and was carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a batting helmet in the other. As well as by the fact that she’d just seen him less than two hours ago. “Have you been waiting all by yourself?”
“No problem, Aunt Molly. Practice has only been done a few minutes and Coach Russell is still here chalking the base lines for tomorrow’s game.” Hunter untangled himself from her overzealous greeting and opened the rear door to toss his gear into the back seat. “Hey! You didn’t tell me Kaleb was coming with you!”
“Hunter, my man,” Kaleb said casually as he pivoted in the driver’s seat and did a complicated fist bump with her nephew.
“What?” Molly fumbled with the door handle. “You guys know each other?”
“Pfshhh,” Hunter responded. “Anyone living in the twenty-first century knows Kaleb Chatterson.”
“Oh, hell.” She inspected her grocery store hero through squinted eyes. “You’re a Chatterson?”
“That’s another dollar for my swear jar, Aunt Molly.”
“According to my birth certificate.” Kaleb shrugged, then put the car into gear. “The DNA tests are still in question.”
A throb started in her temples and Molly had to wonder if her visit to Sugar Falls could get any worse. She pulled her wallet out and tossed a ten dollar bill onto Hunter’s lap. “Consider me paid up until Sunday.”
* * *
“But you said you were from Seattle,” Molly accused through gritted teeth as she latched her seat belt.
“I am.” Kaleb was doing her a favor. Why was he the one being put on the defensive? “And would you mind telling me where I’m supposed to take you?”
“I’m staying at my sister’s apartment. But I guess you knew that all along.”
Whoa. This lady was coming at him with guns blazing. If that wasn’t discomforting enough, a twelve-year-old kid had his seat belt stretched to the limits as he practically leaned between their two seats, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. “How in the world would I have known that? I didn’t have a clue who you were until fifteen minutes ago.”
In fact, it wasn’t until Kaleb heard Hunter call her “Aunt Molly” that the puzzle began clicking together. The woman beside him must somehow be related to Maxine, who was best friends with his sister, Kylie. But he was still missing the pieces that explained why she was suddenly so annoyed with him.
“But you know me, right, Kaleb?” Hunter’s voice cracked and it didn’t take a rearview mirror for Kaleb to know the kid’s eager freckled face was only inches behind his own. “Remember when we were at your sister’s wedding last year and you promised me an internship at your company when I turned eighteen?”
Kaleb squeezed his eyes shut briefly. How could he forget? Of course, he would’ve called it a surrender more than a promise since, at the time, Hunter was the only person who’d been able to smuggle in a tablet—despite Kylie’s ban of all electronic devices at the reception—and Kaleb’s Tokyo office was in the middle of negotiations to buy out a company that built virtual-reality headsets.
Yet, before anyone could comment on the circumstances surrounding the supposed internship, the kid’s aunt interrupted. “If you’re from Seattle, then what are you doing in Sugar Falls?”
As he turned onto Snowflake Boulevard, which could’ve just as easily been named Main Street, USA, he took in the grassy park in the center of downtown to assure himself that they were still in a free country. “The same thing you are. Visiting family.”
She mumbled an expletive under her breath and he was pretty sure that, at this rate, Hunter was going to have enough money in his swear jar to get him through the first two years of college.
“Speaking of family.” Kaleb emphasized the last word to remind her that children were present. “Does your sister still live above her shop?”
“Not anymore,” Hunter answered for his aunt, who was silently fuming in the front seat. “We moved out to a bigger house when she and Cooper got married. But Aunt Molly is staying there while she’s in town. She says it’s because she doesn’t want to be in our way, but Mom says it’s because she doesn’t want us knowing her business.”
Molly gasped before turning in her seat to look at her nephew. “Your mom told you that?”
Hunter had his palms up. “Not in a bad way or nothin’... She said all the Markhams are like that.”
“So where are we going?” Kaleb interrupted. If he wanted a front-row seat to watch family members bickering, he’d head back to his sister’s house and watch his own brothers argue over who got to man the backyard grill.
“To the apartment over the bakery.” Molly sighed. Even an outsider like Kaleb knew that when someone said bakery in this town, they actually meant the Sugar Falls Cookie Company. “It shouldn’t be that far of a walk for you to get back to your car at Duncan’s Market.”
Not that far? It was at least a mile through town and both his phone and his watch—he never should’ve synced the two—currently sounded like winning slot machines with unanswered texts from his dad and his sister, probably wanting to know where the heck he was with their ice and limes.
“Why’s your car at Duncan’s?” Hunter asked. So far they’d avoided having to explain why he was driving them home, but if the kid was as observant as Kaleb had been at that age, it didn’t take a computer genius to figure out Molly was hiding something.
“Because your aunt had a—”
“Wait.” Molly pointed a finger his way. “Which Chatterson brother are you?”
“I’m Kaleb,” he said slowly, second-guessing his earlier decision to go along with her pleas to not seek medical assistance.
“I caught the name.” Her eyes were narrowed into slits. “I meant are you one of the baseball Chattersons or are you the one who plays video games for a living?”
Despite being on the cover of Forbes last month for their feature article on “World’s Youngest Billionaires,” Kaleb’s siblings never let him forget that no matter how much money he made, he would always be the little brother. So when Molly said “video games” in that tone, she might as well have been asking if he was the one who set fire to small wildlife animals in his parents’ basement. At least his back brace and teenage acne were long gone. Along with his self-respect apparently.
“Video games?” Hunter snorted. “Kaleb’s, like, the most successful software developer in the world.”
Oblivious to the tension in the front seat, the boy launched into a monologue about the company’s top-selling games while Molly’s eyes shot icy glares at Kaleb and her forefinger made a dramatic swipe against her throat. It took him a moment to figure out that she was referring to him staying silent about what had happened at the store, not his job profession. Or maybe she didn’t want him to bring up either subject. All he knew was that he liked her soft pink lips a lot more when they weren’t pursed together in a violent shushing gesture. Actually, he kind of liked them both ways.
He mouthed the words, “What’s the big deal?”
But the minivan behind him honked to let him know the light had changed to green, and he didn’t get a chance to lip-read Molly’s response.
So she had diabetes. What was the big deal? Millions of people probably had the same diagnosis and didn’t go into undercover stealth mode to keep it a secret. He needed to know why.
“Dude, all of your electronic devices are, like, going crazy.” Hunter was apparently done with his rambling soliloquy about Perfect Game Industries, although it did give Kaleb’s ego a boost to know that at least one person in the town of Sugar Falls—besides his mother—didn’t think his company was a fallback career. “Are you gonna answer them?”
Kaleb glanced at the display. Speaking of his mother, his family was certainly busting out the big guns if Lacey Chatterson was trying to track him down. Everyone knew he never avoided his mom’s calls. If he didn’t respond soon, he’d get a firsthand look at how this little ski resort town up in the mountains ran a full-scale search party.
“I’ll call them back later,” he said, slipping his cell phone into his front pocket. “Let’s help your aunt take these groceries inside.”
Falling completely off the grid and being the irresponsible Chatterson might be fun for a change.
Chapter Three (#ulink_7bba28c0-add4-5280-8a65-9f4e1cb36ec3)
When Molly had initially been medically grounded, she’d still been living on base so the daily routine of military life made it easy to pretend that nothing would change. Just like the time she’d twisted her ankle after a postejection survival training exercise, she pulled office duty—pushing paperwork and keeping her personal life classified. There was no point in getting her family and squad mates all worried about something that would probably require a simple fix. She hadn’t even told her fiancé about her diagnosis. Although, in her defense, she’d been about to when she walked into Trevor’s condo with a bag of Chinese takeout from his favorite restaurant and found him eating pork dumplings from the ends of another woman’s chopsticks.
Canceling vendors, returning wedding gifts and watching her savings account free-fall with all the forfeited deposits was only slightly more pleasant than undergoing a battery of doctor appointments and lab tests. In a last-ditch attempt to get away from it all, Molly had cashed in on Trevor’s trip insurance and went solo on the honeymoon that never was. Unfortunately, besides a great suntan and a somewhat functional straw tote from a street market in Fiji, Molly’s head wasn’t any clearer than it had been two weeks ago.
As she looked around at her sister’s apartment—which she’d been thinking of as her temporary duty station until she could figure out what she was going to do with her life—Molly felt as though she’d just overshot her landing and had to circle around and try it again. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, she was halfway curled into a ball on the oversize white sofa in the living room, watching her nephew and Kaleb put away groceries she didn’t remember selecting. What in the world was she going to do with all those cans of soup?
More important, what was she going to do with this guy who now knew her secret? She shuddered. Even thinking the word secret made her feel all dirty and cowardly, like she was hunkering down in some barren cave rather than Maxine’s plush renovated apartment in the heart of quaint, touristy Sugar Falls.
Kaleb’s face was so handsome the glasses almost looked fake. A few weeks ago, when she’d first experienced problems with dizziness, Molly had been looking at all the advertisement posters above the display cases at the ophthalmologist’s office while she waited for her vision tests to come back. This guy resembled the sexy models in the pictures, trying to convince the middle-aged patients with cataracts and receding hairlines that they, too, would look like some gorgeous stud if only they invested in the right spectacles.
His brown hair was a bit too long and too messy. His jeans were a bit too new and too expensive, despite the fact that they certainly fit his slim hips well. And when he’d stripped off his hooded sweatshirt and she’d seen him in his shirt, Molly let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. His dark blue T-shirt appeared to be made for him, the fabric so soft and well-worn she could see the ridges of his lean muscles under it.
All in all, he didn’t look like the owner of a multi-billion-dollar technology empire. Which was probably why she was so surprised to find out that he was related to her sister’s best friend. Not that the rest of the Chattersons were much different than this one, with the exception of most of them being redheads. And they were only millionaires, as opposed to billionaires.
“Can we order some pizza from Patrelli’s?” Hunter asked after digging around in the shopping bags and only coming up with food that would require a can opener to prepare.
She nodded and would’ve handed him her cell phone, but he’d already pulled out his own. “Get me a large meatball sub,” she said as he started dialing.
“Actually,” Kaleb interjected, “Molly is going to have the chicken Caesar salad. Dressing on the side.”
Hunter gave his idol a thumbs-up before speaking to a person on the other end of the line. Apparently, being a favorite aunt had just been trumped by the guy who invented some stupid video game called “Blockcraft.”
“But I wanted the meatball sub.” Molly crossed her arms across her chest, her voice sounding whinier than she’d intended.
“And do you also want your nephew to have to call 9-1-1 when you go into another one of your blood sugar attacks?” One of Kaleb’s brown eyebrows arched above his glasses.
Molly tried to arch her own brow in response to him, but only succeeded in looking like she had something stuck in her eye. Being tired was one thing, but she was beginning to feel completely useless.
“I’m gonna walk down the block to pick it up,” Hunter said, pulling on a sweatshirt. “I sure like our new house, but sometimes I really miss living in the middle of town like this.”
Kaleb handed the boy two twenty-dollar bills and her nephew was out the door before Molly could even protest. Or ask him not to leave her alone with the hunky tech guy who’d just saved her. Sort of.
“You didn’t have to buy dinner, too. I have money,” she said, looking around for her wallet. Actually, she didn’t know how much longer her military salary would last and she probably shouldn’t be wasting it on pizza—or dry salads, in this case.
“I think all of your cash went to the swear jar,” Kaleb said, his hands loosely tucked into his front pockets. He was probably eager to get away from her. Not that she could blame him. She’d been trying to get away from herself for quite a few weeks, as well.
His watch rang again, or was it his phone? Nope, this time it was his cell. Picking it up from the counter, he said, “I really need to take this.”
“Okay, but if it’s your sister, don’t tell her about...you know...”
“Why not?”
“Because then she’ll tell my sister, remember?”
He rolled his eyes, then swiped his finger across the screen. “Hey, Kylie.”
Molly dragged her tote bag onto her lap and pulled out her black case. She may as well check her glucose levels before Hunter returned. The distraction might also keep her from listening to Kaleb’s smooth, deep voice.
As she pricked her finger and pressed out a droplet of blood, she heard him make several noncommittal sounds to whatever his sister was saying on the other end.
“Mmm-hmm.” He walked around the coffee table to stand beside her, the waistband of his jeans right in her line of vision. Lately, in the guy department, Molly thought she’d been working on autopilot. However, a shot of electricity zipped through her, activating the dormant wiring circuits in her lower extremities.
“Uh-huh.” He leaned over to see the digital reading on her compact machine. She tightened her lips, taking in a deep breath through her nose. Whoa. Did all billionaires smell this amazing?
“Is that good?” he whispered to her, his hand over the speaker and his eyes soft with concern. She had to force her own eyes away from his flat abdomen and toward the numbers on the screen in front of her.
She was almost back within normal range, yet still gave him an “okay” sign with her thumb and forefinger. His smile mirrored the relief she should have felt. Or would have felt if her heart hadn’t started hammering at how close he was to her.
“No, Molly’s fine.” His voice snapped her brain out of whatever trance she’d just been in and she began waving her arms in front of her face, inadvertently hitting him in the hip and causing him to glare down at her.
“Don’t say my name,” she whispered.
“Too late,” he mouthed.
“Here, let me talk to her.” She reached for his phone, but her energy hadn’t fully recovered and her crisscrossed legs got tangled when she tried to stand up. He sidestepped her and held his palm out, probably trying to cut her off because he thought he had the conversation under control.
“No, she wasn’t too sloshed to drive,” Kaleb told his sister indignantly.
Molly gave him a nod of encouragement. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Oh, c’mon, Kylie. I’m not going to ask her if she’s pregnant.”
Hmm. Molly tilted her head to the side and tapped a couple of fingers against her lip. As far as red herrings went, it wasn’t ideal. But she could work with it. Maxine knew about the breakup with Trevor and Molly hadn’t exactly corrected her sister when she’d offered up the use of her apartment as a refuge for mending her broken heart. Pregnancy definitely would be a lot simpler to explain, at least for a few months while she bought herself more time.
“Because it’s none of my business,” Kaleb said into the phone. “And it’s none of yours.”
Molly’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t believe that he was jumping to her defense, but she nodded her encouragement, anyway.
“Uh-huh.” Kaleb pushed his hair off his forehead, then ran a hand through his dark brown curls, which fell in waves to his chin. “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty minutes and we can talk about it then.”
Molly collapsed backward, her head falling into a pile of down throw pillows. It would’ve been nice if he could’ve stalled a bit more. As it was, she would now have half that time to coach Kaleb on exactly what to say to throw his family off her trail. Or to figure out a way to prevent him from walking out of this apartment.
“No, you do not need to send Dad to come get me.” Kaleb spoke into the phone, but he was staring straight at Molly. And his annoyed expression promised retribution for this farce she’d gotten them both into.
* * *
When he arrived at Kylie’s house a while later, Kaleb surrendered the margarita fixings and tried to give his incredibly nosy family the look that usually sent his employees scurrying back to their cubicles. Or at least the look he intended to convey his authority and his unwillingness to discuss a matter. Unfortunately, his family didn’t work for him and they certainly didn’t respect any boundaries when it came to his personal life—or any facet of his life, really.
“Maybe you should’ve called one of her relatives,” his mother suggested.
“Or brought her here so we could check her out ourselves,” Kylie advised.
“You mean interrogate her in person?” Kaleb asked, and his sister rolled her eyes in response. “You guys, she was totally fine. It’s probably some twenty-four-hour bug that’s going around. In fact, I should probably quarantine myself in case I was exposed. Wouldn’t want to get any of you sick.”
“Nice try, Brainiac,” Kylie replied. “As if Captain Markham would be felled by some pesky flu. That woman is as tough as they come. Maxine told me that one time, when Molly was in flight school, she got her thumb stuck in a busted air shaft vent and almost ripped it clean off. Rather than tell her instructors or call for a medic, she used her good hand and a utility knife and cut off the strap of her bra to hold the digit in place. She would’ve cut into the fabric of her flight suit, but she didn’t want to be out of uniform.”
“Still,” his mom said. “You probably shouldn’t have left her alone if she’s sick.”
Kaleb had told himself that same thing during his walk back to the truck at Duncan’s, during his wait at the checkout line at the market with a fresh—and unmelted—bag of ice and then throughout the entire drive here. “She was already feeling better when I left and she’s not alone. She’s with her nephew. And trust me, that kid is smart enough to call in for reinforcements even if his stubborn aunt isn’t.”
“So, you think Molly’s stubborn?” His sister’s eyes lit up and Kaleb knew from experience not to let her bait him.
“No, you said she was stubborn when she tried to fix her own thumb instead of getting help.”
“I said she was tough, not stubborn.”
“What’s the difference?” Kaleb asked, then thought better of his question when he saw both his sister and his mom open their mouths to answer him. “Never mind. Listen, I’m gonna head over to Kane’s house just in case I caught whatever bug Molly has. I’ll call you guys in the morning.”
Kaleb knew full well that what Molly had wasn’t contagious, but if it got him out of the line of fire quicker, he’d say whatever he could to get a few hours’ reprieve. And in his defense, he was doing it to protect her. To protect her secret. He wasn’t avoiding his family because they drove him nuts. Truly.
Although, if his relatives even got the slightest suspicion that he, in any way, was attracted to an eligible woman, the teasing would never cease. Not that Molly was eligible. Or that Kaleb cared either way. Dating led to obligations and obligations led to commitment. The only commitment he had time for was his company.
On the drive to his brother’s house—where he was staying alone since Kane had moved into town with his fiancée—Kaleb picked up his smartphone several times to call Molly and check on her, each time realizing he never got her phone number. He’d programmed his number into her cell and told her to call him in case anything came up. But she’d never offered to do the same.
Which was for the best. He had no business calling her, let alone fostering this bizarre sense of responsibility he now felt toward her. When he’d dealt with scoliosis, he’d hated people babying him, wondering if the brace he wore was uncomfortable, telling him he’d be able to play sports again soon enough. Kaleb couldn’t imagine she’d respond any differently than he had as a surly teenager, determined to prove to the world that he was just as healthy and capable as everyone else in his athletic family.
But the silence of the truck cab felt unnatural, as did the feeling of not being on the phone with someone. So Kaleb used his voice command feature to call his assistant. He counted three rings, more than the usual two, before Angela answered.
“You’re supposed to be on vacation,” Angela said by way of greeting.
“I’m never on vacation.”
“Does your old man know that?” his assistant asked. “Because Coach Chatterson gave me very specific instructions that nobody from the office was to bother you for the next ten days while you’re with your family.”
That was just like his father to go behind his back like that. And with one of his trusted employees, no less. “Does my dad pay your salary now?”
“No, but he promised to get me a baseball signed by your brother if I sent all the employees a memo instructing them not to call you.”
“Sellout,” Kaleb snorted.
“Can you blame me? Do you know how much authenticated memorabilia signed by the infamous Kane Chatterson goes for nowadays?”
“I didn’t mean you. I meant my brother. He of all people should know not to interfere in my business.”
“Aw, c’mon, Kaleb. You told your family that the only way you would take time off from your job was if they agreed to take time off their jobs. You can’t blame them for wanting to get you back for scheduling this trip right during the middle of baseball season.”
He grunted, but smiled to himself because he’d definitely outplayed his dad and brothers with that negotiation maneuver.
“Besides,” Angela continued, “deep down, you know your family is looking out for your best interest.”
“Story of my life,” Kaleb said as he flicked on the turn signal. A few years ago, he would’ve been annoyed, but now the high-handed move was completely expected and Kaleb would’ve suspected something was wrong if his family hadn’t tried to protect him in some way. Old habits were hard to break and all that. He didn’t begrudge them their motivation, even when he grew exasperated with their tactics. “So, tell me how the testing of the avatar prototype went.”
“It went great for the preliminary rounds. A couple of minor glitches to work out but our software team is on top of it.”
“Have them meet with the graphic artists to go over—”
“They’re already on it, Boss Man,” Angela interrupted.
“What about the negotiations with the record label to let us use that song for the intro to ‘Zombies vs. Alien Pirates’?”
“The legal department is drawing up the contracts this week.”
He made a right turn onto the long dirt driveway leading to the house Kane had refurbished last year. Kaleb wasn’t ready to call it a night quite yet, though. An unexplained restlessness simmered in his belly and he reached for his tablet on the passenger seat. He pulled up his electronic calendar on the screen as he steered the truck with one hand. “Where are we at with those new health care benefits for the administration staff?”
“They decided that they’d rather have a sushi chef in the cafeteria than affordable insurance, so HR is actively screening applicants at every Japanese restaurant in the greater Seattle area.”
“Really?” Kaleb jerked his head up, stopping in front of the barn that had been converted into a garage.
“No, Kaleb. Not really. But I left a very good-looking date and a warm cup of sake so I could step outside of Sensei Miso’s and take your call.”
Angela had been the first person Kaleb hired when he’d started Perfect Game Industries, which meant that she’d been with him since before he could legally drink alcohol and, therefore, felt free to give him her opinion—along with any other unsolicited advice she deemed suitable. Funny how in his quest to start a business that was completely independent of his family, he hired the one person who acted like his long-lost big sister all the time.
Which was probably why he sounded less like an authoritative boss and more like a petulant little brother when he replied, “You could’ve said as much when you answered the phone.”
“Kaleb, you and I both know that my salary more than compensates me for these after-hours calls. But you’re supposed to be on vacation. That means that all your vice presidents and department directors are getting a vacation from you micromanaging us.”
“I’ve never micromanaged anyone in my life,” Kaleb shot back, using his finger to scroll through his online notes to see if there was anything he’d missed regarding the marketing staff.
“Whatever you say, Boss Man.” Angela’s tone wasn’t the least bit deferential.
“You don’t know micromanagement until you’ve spent a day with the Chatterson family.”
“If that’s an invitation, I’m calling the company pilot right now and telling him to fuel up the Gulfstream.”
“Perfect. Tell him that when he drops you off, he can take me back with him. Actually, bring that new admin assistant from accounting with you. I hear he’s been angling for your job since he started. I bet he’ll be glad to know that the position is finally opening up.”
“You mean the one who wore the Bobby Chatterson retro jersey to the company roller-skating party last month? Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t be above taking a bribe from your old man, either.”
“Are you done with the sarcasm?” Kaleb asked. If he wanted to deal with people giving him a hard time, he’d drive back to Kylie’s house. Or even to Molly’s. How did he always inevitably surround himself with so many know-it-all women?
“You started it,” Angela pointed out. “Seriously, though, Kaleb. You’ve hired the best of the best to work for you. The least you could do is trust us to handle things while you enjoy your vacation.”
Kaleb would hardly call this trip to Sugar Falls a vacation. He’d much rather be at the office dealing with things himself, rather than delegating. But he’d made a promise to his parents to at least try.
Just like he’d made a promise to a petite, blue-eyed blonde that he’d keep her secret safe. He looked at the digital calendar on his smartwatch. Nine more days to go.
Chapter Four (#ulink_47c99924-e97b-50fb-8a17-75478dbfd003)
Molly had only been in Sugar Falls for seventy-two hours, and already she knew why the locals didn’t go to the restaurants on the weekends. She took a tentative sip of her coffee minus the cream and sugar—thank you very much, unreliable pancreas—as Hunter swiveled in the counter stool next to her, trying to locate a customer he might know from school or the Little League field.
“Man, this place is packed for a Monday!” Her nephew seemed intent on not using his inside voice.
“It’s Memorial Day weekend, bud.” She handed him one of the laminated menus with the Cowgirl Up Café logo printed on the front.
“I told you we shoulda gone to the Donut Stop. At least there we could’ve run into someone we actually know.”
Yeah, that was the exact reason why Molly’d shot down his suggestion first thing this morning. Well, that and the fact that she wouldn’t have been able to order anything other than a starchy, cream-filled sugar bomb. She hadn’t been back to Duncan’s Market since Friday and Hunter had already exhausted the supply of leftover pizza for his past two breakfasts.
She was supposed to be the fun aunt. The aunt with no rules. The aunt who all the nieces and nephews begged to come chaperone their school dances or to take them and their friends on tours of Blackhawk helicopters. Or at least she would have been if she ever spent some quality time with any of them.
She’d like to think she’d been mostly fun this weekend, going hiking and kayaking and bike riding. But she’d also been feeding her growing twelve-year-old nephew a steady diet of canned soup, which was about the least exciting thing on the planet to eat.
“Finally!” Hunter all but shouted over the noise of the crowded restaurant. “Hey, Kaleb, there’s a spot right here!”
Molly’s shoulders froze, her coffee mug suspended halfway between the Formica counter and her clenched jaw. She should’ve gone to the Donut Stop and risked a maple-glazed-induced coma. Her pride forbade her from turning around to make eye contact with Kaleb, thereby encouraging him to accept Hunter’s invitation to sit by them. But her curiosity told her pride to go pound sand.
That zapping electrical current shot through her body again. She shouldn’t have looked.
He was still wearing those serious glasses, paired with jeans that were meant to look sloppy but probably cost more than her officer’s mess dress uniform—which was the most expensive thing she owned. His green T-shirt displayed a replica of the blueprints for the Millennium Falcon, and Hunter immediately commented on their apparent shared love of Star Wars as Kaleb warily approached.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me joining you guys?” Given the way his eyes were fixated on her face, he was directing the question toward her.
But Hunter answered before she could. “Heck, no. Hurry up before one of the tourists tries to snake this spot.”
The waitress was possibly new, her gaze darting back and forth between the counter and the booths as though she didn’t know who to help next. Her turquoise Cowgirl Up Café T-shirt seemed way too tight and didn’t go with the long, flowing skirt. Molly remembered her high school job at a fish and chips place near Groton, Connecticut, when her parents had been stationed at the military base there. On her first day, she’d been tossed an oversize orange-and-blue striped polyester dress that smelled like battered grease and Atlantic cod and had the name “Dolores” stenciled on the front.
She felt this woman’s pain. Thank God Molly had become a pilot, because she had sucked at every job she’d ever had before enlisting. Ugh! Did that mean that if she couldn’t fly planes, she’d have to go back to waitressing? To being around all this delicious food and not being able to sample a single bite?
When Monica—at least that what the waitress’s name tag read—finally made her way to them, she fumbled with her notepad and barely made eye contact before asking to take their order.
“You gotta get one of their cinnamon rolls, Aunt Molly,” Hunter said. “They’re world famous.”
“As good as that sounds, I think I’m going to get the veggie omelet.” She tried to ignore her nephew’s gagging expression.
“Would you like hash browns or home fries with that?” Monica asked.
Even with Hunter sitting between them, and at least fifty other diners in the surrounding area, Molly could clearly hear Kaleb’s swift intake of breath. She zeroed in on his disapproving scowl.
“What?” Molly asked.
“Potatoes are a starch, which basically converts into sugar as soon as it hits your digestive tract.”
“They’re also a vegetable. I’m sure a couple of bites would be fine.”
“Look.” Kaleb pointed to something on the menu before suggesting, “How about the sliced tomatoes?”
The waitress, who, up until that point, had looked as though she’d rather be anywhere that didn’t require social interaction, lifted one of her eyebrows at Molly and gave her that look women give each other to silently ask, Are you really going to let this guy talk to you like that?
Each fiber of Molly’s soul wanted to fight back and order every single potato product they served—which would’ve been quite a meal considering they were in the great state of Idaho. But she ignored the throbbing vein in her temple and only mildly defied him by forcing out the words, “I’ll take the cottage cheese.” And then in an effort to prove to this stranger that the controlling man sitting next to them wasn’t the boss of her, she added, “And a side of bacon.”
When Kaleb ordered the cinnamon roll French toast, Molly shot him the dirtiest look she could manage. It might’ve been juvenile, but it was either that or risk giving Hunter another IOU for his swear jar.
“I thought you guys were friends,” her nephew said once Monica left to get Kaleb’s orange juice.
“I don’t know if I’d say we were—” Kaleb broke off when Molly drew a finger across her neck.
“Of course we’re friends, Hunter.” Molly held the tight smile as her nephew looked back and forth between them. She prayed her jaw didn’t crack.
“Oh, I get it,” the boy finally said. “My mom and Cooper used to argue like that before they got married.”
“We’re not arguing,” Kaleb’s mouth said, while his eyes added, Nor are we getting married.
Not that she needed him to spell it out. But clearly, Hunter did, because the twelve-year-old didn’t look convinced.
“That’s also what my mom and Cooper used to say.” Hunter’s knowing smirk was enough to make Molly sink down in her seat as she bit back an argumentative response.
* * *
Oddly enough, that wasn’t the most awkward breakfast Kaleb had ever had. Even when he’d grabbed the check, only to have Molly tear the paper in two when she wrestled it out of his grip, he’d only been mildly annoyed. Too bad the business owners in Sugar Falls hadn’t caught on to SmartPay; otherwise, he could’ve paid the bill with a simple tap on his watch.
In fact, the woman seemed to bring out his competitive spirit, a Chatterson trait that always seemed to intensify whenever he was in the same city as his antagonistic siblings. Plus, seeing her get all flustered and defensive every time she thought Kaleb might slip and say something was rather entertaining.
Most of the women he went out with were overly agreeable, always putting him—and his bank account—on a pedestal. Fortunately, the novelty of dating a billionaire wore off as soon as they realized Kaleb spent more time inside his company’s headquarters than he did jet-setting around the world, making social appearances. So it was an interesting change of pace to be sharing a meal with an attractive female who wasn’t trying to impress him or talk him into taking her shopping or to a swanky, new restaurant.
Actually, Kaleb got the impression that Molly couldn’t wait for him to leave. They’d barely walked outside the café when Hunter invited him over to play video games. Kaleb was tempted to accept, if only to see Molly squirm some more.
“I thought we were going to head into Boise today to see that new superhero movie,” Molly told her nephew.
“Superhero movie?” Kaleb asked. He knew exactly which one she was talking about because he’d been an adviser on set to Robert Downey, Jr., and had been invited to the premiere a few weeks ago. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“You know.” Molly rolled her wrist in a circle. “The one where the guy wears that suit and he fights that bad guy who is trying to destroy that thing.”
Hunter slapped a palm to his forehead. “He’s called Iron Man.” Then the kid looked at Kaleb. “You wanna come with us?”
“I wish I could.” And he was surprised to realize that was the truth. He’d love to sit by Molly in a dark air-conditioned movie theater, sharing a hot bucket of buttery popcorn... Wait. Was she supposed to eat popcorn? He pulled out his phone to ask his voice-operated search engine, then saw the two sets of eyes eagerly awaiting his response to the original question. Although each set looked hopeful for opposite answers.
“Actually, I can’t,” he finally said, and Molly let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m supposed to go with my family on some sort of ATV tour this afternoon.”
Her look of relief suddenly turned to one of blanket envy. He recognized the expression from twenty minutes ago when she was staring at the maple syrup dripping off the cinnamon roll French toast he was eating, looking like she wanted to stab him with her fork so that she could lick his plate clean.
Just then, Hunter waved at a kid getting out of an SUV down the street. “That’s Jake Marconi. Hold on a sec, I’m gonna go tell him something.”
The boy left Kaleb standing there alone with his aunt.
“I’ll give you ten dollars to switch with me this afternoon,” Molly said under her breath, her nephew barely out of hearing distance.
“I’d gladly switch for free,” Kaleb replied. “But my dad keeps accusing me of avoiding my family. Trust me. I’d much rather see the movie again than bounce along an overgrown trail, hanging on to some four-wheeled motorcycle for dear life.”
Her face was incredulous. “Are you kidding? Who’d want to sit and watch a bunch of fake action on the screen when you could be out there living it?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to spend the evening on his sister’s sofa with a heating pad wedged under his back.” Not that Kaleb was worried about a flare-up from his old surgery, but it was obvious that an adrenaline junkie like Molly—or at least like most pilots—wouldn’t understand that some people preferred to get their excitement the virtual way.
“Hey, Kaleb.” Hunter ran back to them, another boy on his heels and a woman trying to keep up behind them. “This is my friend Jake. I told him you’d sign his copy of ‘Alien Pirates: Martianbeard’s Redemption.’”
“Sorry for imposing on you like this,” Jake’s mother said when she caught up to them. She pulled a plastic case out of her purse. “But my son heard you were in town and has been carrying this video game around in the hopes that we’d run into you and could get your autograph.”
“Of course,” he said as the mom handed him a Sharpie. He cleared his throat, mostly embarrassed that Molly was watching the entire encounter, but secretly hoping she was slightly impressed. Other women would be, but Molly was turning out to be unlike anyone else he’d ever met.
Mrs. Marconi, as if suddenly realizing someone else was standing there, held out her phone to Molly. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”
“That’s my aunt Molly,” Hunter explained to everyone. “You might’ve seen her when she and Kaleb picked me up at baseball practice on Friday night. We were just having breakfast together.”
Even to Kaleb’s ears, the kid was laying it on a bit thick with the implications of how well they were acquainted. But he knew how twelve-year-old boys talked when they wanted to impress their friends. Unfortunately, Molly’s face turned scarlet and she tried to hide it behind the phone as she held it up for a picture. She didn’t even count to three or tell them to say cheese before quickly tapping the shutter and telling Hunter, “C’mon, bud. We better get going if we don’t want to be late for that movie.”
Kaleb didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her and was left standing with Jake and his mom, who was possibly an even bigger video game fan than her son. If only his assistant could see him now. Take that, Angela. Some people might want his brothers’ autograph on balls and team jerseys, but there were also people in this world who wanted his. Maybe he should call his director of marketing and look into producing more memorabilia.
Unfortunately, death by ATV would be preferable to all the personal questions Mrs. Marconi was soon launching his way. She wanted to know how long he’d be in town and how well he knew Maxine Cooper’s sister. Kaleb tried to direct the conversation back to Jake and level eight of “Pirate Space Blasters.” After about two minutes—which felt like two hours—he tapped on his watch and said he had an important conference call to get to.
Still driving his dad’s truck, Kaleb slowly took the road to his sister’s house. He didn’t even notice that he hadn’t activated his Bluetooth or punched in coordinates onto the navigation screen. He was too busy remembering the way Molly had looked at that syrup, wondering how his body would react if she looked at him the same way. So maybe the breakfast had been a bit awkward. But in a good way.
There definitely could’ve been worse ways to spend his morning.
* * *
When they got back from seeing the movie in Boise, Molly followed Hunter into Maxine and Cooper’s house. They’d moved after they found out they were having a baby and would need something bigger than the two-bedroom apartment in town.
Her sister looked even more pregnant than she had on Friday morning when she and Cooper had left town. Hunter didn’t seem to mind his mother’s increasing belly as she held the boy in a firm hug and told him how much they’d missed him.
Cooper agreed, and when he wrapped his arms around his stepson, he practically lifted the twelve-year-old off his feet. Molly hung back, shifting from her left foot to her right. The Markham family hadn’t been big in the demonstrative affection department and Molly never seemed to know what to do when she saw parents openly displaying their love for their kids. Sure, she was technically related to them, but she and Maxine weren’t the kind of sisters who got blubbery and emotional whenever they saw each other. As children, they’d been physically close by default. It was difficult not to be when six kids shared two rooms. But all that togetherness only made the Markham siblings anxious to spring out on their own as soon as they hit adulthood.
Being military brats, it wasn’t like they’d had a childhood home to go back to, so their visits were few and far between and the distance became more and more natural. Not that Molly was complaining. There were plenty of things she wasn’t ready to discuss with her family just yet, anyway.
“Did you guys have fun?” Maxine asked.
“So much fun,” Hunter replied. “I got to see Kaleb Chatterson a bunch and we went kayaking and biking and saw a movie and everything. It was a blast.”
“Kaleb Chatterson, huh?” her sister asked Hunter, but Molly knew the question was really directed at her. Luckily, Hunter launched into a dialogue about some video game something or other and Molly took the opportunity to excuse herself and go to the restroom.
She’d been careful about monitoring her blood sugar more often while she’d been babysitting her nephew, administering her doses of insulin prior to every meal. At the theater, she’d calculated the amount of carbs in her popcorn, but then mindlessly shoved a handful of M&Ms in her mouth when Hunter had passed her the box during the movie.
Molly had been mentally kicking herself for the mistake the whole drive here and had even been pushing her rented four-cylinder Toyota to mach speeds to make it back to Sugar Falls just in case she had another episode. She heard the machine beep and let out a sigh of relief at the number. It was a little high, but she was still within the normal range. Knowing that she’d be eating soon, she gave herself another dose.
When she stepped out of the restroom, the scent of garlic and whatever else her brother-in-law was cooking reached her. The kitchen was huge and opened up to a sprawling living room. Cooper somehow managed to look incredibly manly while he bustled around with mixing bowls and pans as Maxine pulled out one of the counter stools next to hers and waved Molly over.
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