“Stop talking, and let me think how to help Fanny.”
Yes, perhaps it was best to hold his tongue. For now.
He watched—in silence—as she wound a lock of shimmering black hair around her finger. Round and round and round. Until this moment, Garrett hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of looking at her, to really look at her without interruption and without thinking too hard about the consequences. She was still so beautiful, her features as delicate as a porcelain doll, as precious as fine china. There ought to be a law against that sort of beauty walking freely about town.
He cleared his throat.
The gesture seemed to spur her to action. Without another word, she set out in the direction of the boardinghouse where Fanny rented a room with their other sister, Callie.
Garrett followed, determined to prevent Molly from doing—or saying—something rash in the heat of the moment. Catching her in two long strides, he moved directly in her path.
She gave him a pointed look. “You are in my way.”
“I know.” He widened his stance.
“Ah.” Hands fisted at her sides, she jerked her chin at him. “I see you are in one of your stubborn moods.”
“Not even remotely.” In fact, he was trying very hard to remain calm, to think of Fanny, only Fanny. A nearly impossible feat with Molly standing so close, looking up at him with those big, striking, blue, blue eyes. Eyes that turned his brain to mush, still, after all these years.
“Let’s both try to be reasonable here.” He softened the suggestion with a smile.
“Reasonable?” She sniffed. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” But instead of continuing on her way, or expanding on her words, she leaned toward him, ever so slightly, eyes blinking rapidly up at him. She had more to say, he saw it in her troubled gaze, and knew he wasn’t going to like it.
Still, he waited, fascinated by the display of emotion on her face, the exotic curve of her lips, the slight tilt of her head. It was his turn to lean forward.
Step back, he told himself. You didn’t come home for this. You didn’t turn down the job in St. Louis for her.
He remained frozen on the spot, the sights and sounds of the busy street all but ignored, because this was Molly. Molly.
His first love. His only love.
The beautiful girl who had never truly been his.
For a split second he was slung back in time, when things were simpler between them and they could read each other’s thoughts. He moved a bit closer. Closer, closer...
He froze.
What was he doing? What was he thinking? He was descending on Molly, as if he was going to kiss her, out in the open, on a busy street, where anyone could see them if they were paying attention. Someone was always paying attention.
As if coming to a similar conclusion, Molly frowned, shifted to her left and resumed walking.
Garrett followed again, this time a few steps behind.
A block later, they arrived at Mrs. Agatha’s Boardinghouse for Women. An unassuming structure, the house was as plain as its proprietress. The three-story home, painted a dull gray, reminded Garrett of a woman’s dormitory on a college campus.
Like any housemother, Mrs. Agatha had strict rules of conduct for her residents. That, among other reasons, was why the family had been happy enough to see Fanny and Callie settle here while they worked at the Hotel Dupree, Fanny as a concierge and Callie in the kitchens.
Had it been wise to allow the girls to move off the ranch? Not that anyone could have stopped them. Well-educated, far too worldly after returning home from school out East, both had claimed they didn’t fit on the ranch anymore.
Molly, on the other hand, fit perfectly on the ranch. She fit just as well here in Denver. In truth, she fit everywhere, anywhere. He’d forgotten that about her, forgotten her ability to blend in wherever she went, and befriend whomever she met. Her inner light drew others to her. Garrett was no exception.
Heart lodged in his throat, he watched her stare up at the boardinghouse’s entrance. “We should formulate a plan,” he said, mainly to break the silence between them.
Although she’d given no indication she was aware of his presence, she didn’t seem surprised he’d spoken. “Oh, Garrett, I thought I was encouraging her when I gave her my four-step formula. Now, I’m not so sure. Then again—” a sigh leaked out of her “—if Fanny doesn’t love Reese enough to want to marry him, then maybe, maybe she’s making the right decision.”
Was she speaking from experience? Had Molly broken her own engagements because she hadn’t loved her fiancés enough to spend the rest of her life with them?
A pleasing thought, to be sure, one that sent an unexpected surge of relief spreading through him. Satisfaction, too.
Focus, Garrett. This isn’t about you, or Molly, or the past. “The important point is that my sister has changed her mind about Reese and we need to find out why.”
“Agreed.”
A rare moment of solidarity passed between them and they shared a brief smile. Turning as one, they commandeered the steps leading into the boardinghouse together. They progressed side by side, their movements perfectly in sync with one another. For an instant, they were back at a place of deep understanding, where words weren’t necessary between them.
The sensation brought on a spurt of hope, nearly breaking through Garrett’s cynical heart. Problem was he relied heavily on his well-honed cynicism to keep him from making a mistake. A mistake, such as, say...drawing Molly’s hand into his and forgetting all about their tumultuous history.
Don’t do it, he warned himself. Not a single glance in her direction. He lasted an entire three seconds.
Then, he turned his head.
She stole his breath, just as she had when he was a boy. Feeling boldly nostalgic, he reached out.
And...
Closed his hand over hers.
Chapter Four
Molly sucked in a breath, torn between tightening her grip around Garrett’s hand and yanking free of his touch. With him this close, holding on to her oh so casually, every sense was heightened to alarming proportions. Smells became stronger, colors brighter, sounds louder.
It was always this way with Garrett, she realized, despite the years of turmoil standing between them. Sadly, she couldn’t remain detached, not with his fingers tenderly entwined with hers, and his masculine, woodsy scent wafting over her.
Her throat constricted.
Panic reared.
Despair threatened.
She really, really needed to distance herself from the tall, handsome man who thought the worst of her one moment, and then pointed out her strengths the next. The same man who’d so easily walked away from her seven years ago.
Your time to be together has come and gone, she reminded herself. The Lord has a different plan for you both.
Precisely. No use wishing for what might have been at this point.
Let him go, she told herself.
Instead of pulling free, she clutched her fingers around his a little tighter. A dreaded show of weakness, to be sure.
When Molly paused at the entrance, and spared a look at their joined hands, Garrett finally released her. Yet he didn’t go far. As she entered the house and climbed up to the third floor where Fanny and Callie shared a room, Garrett kept close, only one step below. At least he didn’t touch her, or try to hold her hand again.
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