Smitten Book Club Read online

  “I searched every square inch. Maybe we’re never going to find it. Maybe someone else already did, or maybe Pearl never had it to begin with.”

  “I don’t believe that. It’s in that house somewhere.”

  Maybe. Or maybe they were on a fool’s errand. Maybe it was hidden so well they’d never find it in time. Maybe she’d lose her house, and someone else a hundred years from now would become rich off Pearl Chambers’s find.

  Heather was talking about some problem at work, but Molly couldn’t focus. Her thoughts turned to Gage and their last meeting. They were doing that a lot lately.

  “He almost asked me out,” Molly blurted. Talk about random.

  Heather’s coffee mug stopped halfway to her mouth. She caught on quick, her blue eyes sparkling. “Gage? When?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “And you’re just telling me? Come on, spill. Did he call? What did he say?”

  “He stopped by the shop. We were just talking about this and that. He brought a business book for me to read and then—”

  Heather gave a wry laugh at the mention of the book.

  Molly shot her a look. “Anyway. He kind of leaned into the counter, and he was looking at me like—I don’t know. Like he was interested or something, and he said, ‘I hope I’m not out of line, but I was wondering if—’ ”

  Molly’s phone rang. She frowned, checking the number. “Déjà vu,” she muttered. Upon seeing a toll-free number, she silenced the phone.

  “So . . . go on,” Heather said.

  This was where it got embarrassing. “When he was in the middle of asking, I panicked. I . . . kind of pretended to get a call.”

  “Oh, Molly.”

  “It gets worse.” She closed her eyes at the memory. “A call came in right in the middle.”

  Heather made a face. “Pearl Chambers would not approve.”

  No kidding. “Then April walked in, thank God, diverting his attention, and he left. But he was going to ask me out. At least I think he was. What am I going to do if he does it again?”

  “Do you really think he will after that?”

  Molly palmed her forehead. “I know, I know. I feel like such a jerk.”

  Heather shook her head. “Only you, Molly. Maybe he will ask again. Do you want him to? Do you want to say yes?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Molly ran her hand over her face. “When did I become so indecisive?”

  Heather put her hand over Molly’s. “You’ve been through a rough year. I’d be worried if you weren’t a little uncertain. But if you’re starting to have feelings, maybe it’s time to explore them. Are you attracted to Gage? What am I saying? Of course you are.”

  “It just feels weird, another man. I was with Curtis for nine years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “I do want to fall in love again. I loved being married. Being a family. I just don’t know if I’m ready yet to start thinking about all that.”

  “I guess you’re the only one who can answer that. I’ve been praying for you. When the time comes, you’ll make the right decision.”

  “If the time comes. Maybe it was just an impulsive thing on his part. Maybe he’s reconsidered and decided it’s a bad idea. Or maybe I just completely misjudged the moment.”

  Heather squeezed her hand. “Or maybe you’re trying to talk yourself out of something that might feel a little scary.”

  Molly looked into Heather’s warm eyes, then made a face. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  There are few pursuits the male youth enjoys so much as a hearty challenge.

  PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gage dribbled the ball out and turned to face Griffen. His friend had lucked out with a basketball pad and an old two-story just outside of town. Not to mention a beautiful best-friend-turned-wife. Some guys had all the luck.

  “Where’s your other half?” Gage advanced toward the basket, winded. They’d been at this almost an hour, and the afternoon sun was getting brutal.

  “Girl time.” Griffen blocked the shot, but Gage got the ball back. “Something about shopping and chocolate.”

  Gage wondered what Molly was doing. He hadn’t seen her since he’d taken her the book. Okay, the book had been an excuse to see her, to ask her out. Yeah, that had gone really well.

  “You gonna shoot or something?” Griffen asked a minute later.

  Gage spun, put up the ball, and missed.

  Griffen rebounded, checking the ball, then he dribbled back in. Gage wiped his face with the tail of his shirt. His mind went back to that day in her shop, to his unfinished invitation. He couldn’t believe she’d faked a phone call.

  “What’s with the sour face?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Really? ’Cause your head’s not in the game, that’s for sure.”

  It was true. He could usually hold his own with Griffen, but today he was losing by at least six points. Maybe more. He’d lost count.

  He defended a couple of Griffen’s moves, then dodged the wrong way.

  Griffen put up a shot, scoring two more. “At least make it a game, man.” He gave a sideways smile as he tossed the ball to Gage.

  They played a few more minutes, Gage making a concerted effort to refocus. After a nice series of moves, he put the ball up for what should’ve been an easy layup. It hit the backboard, sprang off the rim, and dropped into Gage’s hands.

  Griffen shot him a look. “So what’s her name?”

  “Whose name?”

  “The girl who’s got you so hot and bothered.”

  “I’m not hot and bothered.”

  Griffen smirked.

  Gage pitched the ball at his friend.

  Griffen caught it at the chest. “It’s that Molly chick, isn’t it?”

  “You gonna check the ball or what?”

  Griffen dribbled out, then turned. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  Gage crouched low as Griffen neared. “Yeah, well, doesn’t matter. She’s not interested.”

  He blocked a shot, but Griffen got it back easily.

  “How do you know?”

  “Trying to distract me?”

  “I’m up by ten, dude. I could be comatose and beat you today.” He put up a shot, and the ball swished through the net, the winning point. Gage wasn’t even sorry that he’d lost.

  “You should ask her out.”

  Gage gave a wry laugh, retrieving the ball. “You really want to go there?” He wiped his face with his shirt. “Fine. I started to ask her out the other day, but we got interrupted.”

  Griffen shrugged. “So what’s the problem? Call her up and finish the deed. Wrap it up. Get ’er done.”

  Gage shook his head, cradled the ball against his side. “She’d only say no.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “When I was asking her out, she faked an incoming phone call.” And the look in her eyes just before . . . He could still see them now. Man. The memory slayed him.

  Griffen’s head tilted back, his face going serious. “Ouch.”

  Gage dribbled the ball. The patting sound it made on the concrete was loud in the sudden quiet.

  Griffen grabbed his water bottle from the sidelines and tossed Gage’s to him.

  “Her husband died last year,” Gage said.

  “Yeah, I remember. The fire fighter. Reese watched her kid a couple of times. When was it, late last winter? Early spring? Maybe she’s not ready yet.”

  Or maybe she just wasn’t interested. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Even though he shared the same interests as her late husband, personality-wise they couldn’t be more different. Curtis had kept to himself, Gage enjoyed company. Curtis had been serious, Gage liked to mess around. Curtis had held her heart, Gage couldn’t even get a date.

  “Maybe she was just nervous or something.”

  The look in her eyes flashed into his mind again, making his stomach ache. “I don’t t
hink so.”

  Griffen sat on the back porch stoop, and Gage sank down beside him. He took a long swallow of water.

  “Reese and I were friends a long time before we finally got together.”

  “I know.” Griffen thought Reese had been in love with Sawyer Smitten, her old flame. Turned out her feelings for Griffen had changed, but she was too afraid to admit it. It had been a long, winding road to happily-ever-after.

  “My point is,” Griffen said, “there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “Meaning . . .”

  Griffen finished his water and capped the empty bottle. “Meaning, you don’t have to date to spend time together. If you’re that interested, figure it out.”

  Noah held out the fishing line. “Here, Mom.”

  “Oh no. I’m not touching that worm. You want to fish, you bait the hook, buckaroo.”

  With a determined scowl, Noah set to work with the wiggling worm.

  Molly stretched out on the sloped shoreline, elbows planted into the grass. The sun was pleasantly warm overhead. Already her skin had colored under the afternoon rays.

  Now that Noah was out of school, they needed to get outside on the weekends. Most of the week, he was stuck at the store with her. His only breaks came when she had tours and he went to the sitter’s.

  “This is hard. Dad always did it for me.”

  She didn’t doubt it. Curtis had found it easier to do things himself sometimes. Especially when Noah had been little. “Keep at it. You can do it.”

  A few minutes later he was casting the line. It settled about fifteen feet out, the bobber dancing on the surface.

  “What did I tell you? You’re a pro.” Molly grimaced when Noah wiped his hands on his shorts. “Need a wet wipe, sport?”

  “Nah.”

  She smothered a grin and resisted the urge to hand him one anyway.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Molly turned at the deep familiar voice. Upon meeting Gage’s warm smile, she couldn’t help but offer one of her own. “Hey there.”

  Gage left the walking trail and flopped down beside her, flat on his back, breathing hard.

  “Hey, Noah,” he squeezed out between breaths. “How you doing?”

  “Good. I’m gonna catch a bluegill.”

  “I bet you will.”

  “I’d ask what you’re doing here,” Molly said, “but it’s clear you’re trying to kill yourself.”

  “It’s true, I’m a masochist.”

  Noah reeled in a few inches. “What’s a masochist?”

  “Someone who likes to jog,” Molly said.

  Gage smiled, closing his eyes as he caught his breath. “I’m inclined to agree about now.”

  She stole the chance to take a peek. Sweat dampened his dark hair. His white shirt clung nicely to his chest, falling just to the waist of his black basketball shorts. Her eyes swept up his chest again on the way to his face. To his eyes. His open eyes.

  Busted.

  She looked away, her cheeks heating. Way to go, Molly. You’ve been fretting all week, afraid he’d ask you out, and now you’re giving him go-signals. Good job.

  “Most people do that in the morning, you know,” she said. “Before the temperature tops eighty.”

  “I barely made it to church on time as it was.”

  They talked about their respective church services, transitioning to the topic of mutual friends for a while. Midway through, Noah caught a bluegill, and Gage showed him how to remove the hook, letting him do the work.

  All week Molly had wondered what she’d say if Gage asked her out. She had no answers yet, so she was grateful for Noah’s presence.

  “There’s Jordan!” Noah reeled in and tossed his pole aside. “I’m gonna go to the playground, ’kay?”

  “Um . . . well, what about lunch?”

  “Not hungry yet.”

  “Okay . . .” She frowned as her buffer ran toward his friend. So much for that.

  Gage sat up, and she thought for a moment he was leaving. But no. He rested his elbows on his raised knees, settling in.

  Say something, Molly. Something benign. Something random. Anything. “How’s business going?”

  “Not bad. The weather put a crimp in things last week.”

  “Tell me about it.” Half her tours had been cancelled due to the storms. It was hard to turn things around when everything seemed to be working against her. Another loan payment was due soon, and the money wasn’t there. She’d already received a warning letter.

  “Don’t look so sad. The forecast for this week is sunny with a chance of tours galore.”

  She tried for a smile. She was sure that’d be the case for Gage. For her it was sunny with a chance of bankruptcy. She didn’t know which bothered her more: the thought of letting Noah down or the thought of letting Curtis down. The business had been his baby.

  She checked on Noah. He and Jordan seemed to be competing for highest swinger, and Noah was behind. “I don’t know, Gage. Sometimes I think I’m fighting a losing battle.”

  “Hey.” His eyes softened, warming her through. “Don’t lose faith. Look how far you’ve come. From fear of heights to scaling mountains.” He smiled.

  “For all the good it’s done. I can stay busy and post fliers and garner reviews, but the numbers don’t lie. And I gotta tell you . . . what they’re saying isn’t good.”

  He regarded her seriously. “How can I help?”

  Her heart squeezed at his willingness to give yet more of his time to her failing business.

  “I don’t know. I’m at the end of my rope. My overhead is as low as possible, and we just aren’t making it.”

  Was she missing something? Maybe if she gave Gage access to everything, he could figure it out. If anyone could, it was him. That was asking a lot, though. It would be time consuming, and this was busy season. Well. His busy season.

  On the other hand, if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to lose everything.

  “What is it?” His eyes were locked on her. Deep pools of blue.

  She nearly fell in and drowned and, frankly, drowning had never seemed so appealing. Focus, Molly.

  “You’ve been so helpful. I hate to even ask . . .”

  He cocked his head. The clouds parted, and the sunlight caught the side of his face. “Tell me.”

  She looked away. Licked her lips. She couldn’t think straight when he was staring at her like that. When his eyes went so soft, she felt like a melted pool of chocolate.

  “I was wondering . . . if I were to give you access to, you know, everything . . .” Her heart thudded at the thought. It was scary. It was humiliating. He’d see her bank account. Know her incompetence. “Would you . . .”

  “You want me to do an operations audit. Assess where you are, see if I find any problems.”

  “It would take a lot of time.”

  “Molly.”

  She turned at his insistent tone. Those blue eyes. Have mercy, she was powerless against them.

  “I’m happy to help. I’ll come in this week, and next week too if I need to. If there’s something to find, I’ll find it. No worries.”

  She wasn’t a weeper, so she wasn’t sure why her eyes were suddenly burning, why a knot formed in her throat. “Thanks.”

  A delighted sparkle in one’s eye or fluttering of one’s lashes can often convey all a young lady needs to say.

  PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

  CHAPTER NINE

  Things were much worse than Gage had imagined. He’d been analyzing Molly’s operations in his spare time for the past couple weeks. He’d examined the price structure, the business’s efficiency, the benefits and costs of operations. He looked it all over, then did it again, hoping he’d missed something.

  Molly kept asking how it was going, and he’d put her off, hoping to find something encouraging, but the news wasn’t good. Her price structure was spot-on. The store was efficiently run. She was frugal in he
r spending. She was doing everything right.

  But the loan was eating up her profits. With that kind of overhead, she needed more business. For customers she needed advertising, for advertising she needed money, and for money she needed more customers. It was a vicious cycle.

  There was no money. He looked at the bottom line, frowning as two customers entered Molly’s shop. Gage closed the book and moved around the counter.

  He’d insisted Molly take Noah out for their lunch break. Molly felt bad about the kid spending his summer cooped up in the store. Besides, the place was a tomb. They sometimes went hours between customers.

  He approached the middle-aged man and woman. “Can I help you?”

  “We’re looking for a good pair of hiking socks,” the man said.

  “Nothing too thick, though.” The woman tossed her blond ponytail over her shoulder. “My shoes are already snug.”

  Unfortunately, Molly carried little merchandise. “I’m afraid we don’t carry them here. There’s a place a couple blocks down, though. Make a left on Main, and it’ll be on your right.”

  “Thanks.”

  He wondered if he should advise Molly to carry more merchandise. Forty percent of his profits came from product sales as opposed to tours.

  “Left on Main?” the man said as he stepped out the door.

  Gage nodded. “It’ll be on your right.”

  “Thank you.” The woman moved aside to let Molly and Noah past.

  Noah darted inside, heading to Molly’s office for a computer game, probably.

  Molly was looking at Gage oddly, her cute smile nowhere to be found. He realized how what he’d said to the customer might’ve sounded to her.

  “They were after hiking socks,” he said.

  And that quickly her smile was back. “Oh.”

  “How was lunch?”

  “We got takeout from the Country Cupboard Café and took it to the square. A much-needed break—thank you.”

  The phone rang. Molly picked it up and began answering questions about rafting tours.