He grinned. “Twenty questions?”
“Just trying to get to know you a little better.”
“I can’t really remember wanting to do anything else. I always loved planes and helicopters. When I was a boy, I built model airplanes and pretended I could fly away to exciting places.” He’d mentally escaped his home life by gluing bits of plastic together. These days he worked with wood, but not much else had changed.
“It must’ve been tough.”
“Building models? Not really. They came with instructions.”
“No, I mean growing up like you did.”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he tried to figure out if she was digging for information out of morbid curiosity or something else. “Lots of people have it far worse than I did.”
“I’m not trying to pry.” She conceded with a nod. “Okay, maybe I am. I’m just interested in you, that’s all.”
Something eased up inside him, some sealed-shut door blocking him from his childhood memories. Maybe because she’d been honest about her motivations. Maybe because he trusted she wouldn’t blab around town. Either way, he started talking before his brain could shut his mouth down. “It wouldn’t have been so hard if people had just let it go, stopped talking and speculating all the time.”
“My mom never told me much. I heard whispers, but people shut up when I came into the room, and I stopped asking questions.”
“What do you know?”
“Just that your mom was married to Aaron Wilder when she got pregnant with you and Camila.”
He stared at the road ahead. “Yeah. They lived on his family’s ranch—the one he lost a few years ago, when it was sold to that actress. My mom cooked for all the ranch hands. Wyatt was about two, I think, and Austin must’ve been one when she met my dad. He’d traveled up from Mexico City because he wanted to be a cowboy. He used to tell me and Mila stories of his cowboy days and how much he hated it. He was a city boy through and through. But being a cowboy was probably his equivalent of building model airplanes—a romantic fantasy life where he could do something totally different. Anyway, Mom doesn’t talk about it much except to say how lonely she was. Aaron worked hard, and she was on her own with two small kids. She and my dad just… connected, I guess. Nine months later, Mila and I were born looking like the perfect mix between them, and she broke down and told Aaron what she’d done.”
Her voice was soft when she said, “That must’ve been so tough.”
“Yeah—for her, for Aaron. I can’t even imagine how that must’ve hurt him.” He rubbed his chin. “Can you keep a secret?”
“You know I can or you wouldn’t be thinking of telling me one.”
He chuckled. “True. Aaron was the one who bought me the model airplanes I used to build. Not my dad. Not my mom. In fact, she thought I saved my pocket money and bought them myself.”
Molly’s lips parted in surprise. “Your mom’s ex-husband bought you toys?”
“They’re still married, just haven’t lived together since I was born. And yeah.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “He’s a nice man. He never blamed me and Mila for being born. He realized we had nothing to do with it. We were just caught up in the same scandal that had cost him a future with his wife.” His oldest half brother, Wyatt, on the other hand, had tormented him.
“Wow.” Molly fell back against her seat. “I had no idea.”
“See? We’re not completely messed up.” Telling her about his family felt strange. He couldn’t remember ever telling the story before. People either already knew it or didn’t need to know it. But talking to Molly…well, she made it easy. “Your turn. Tell me about you and Lily.”
She stared at him suspiciously. “What do you want to know?”
“How’d you two meet? I remember Scott mentioning her—”
“I’m not surprised. The first time he met her, I had to tell him to put his tongue back into his mouth and wipe the drool off his chin.”
He laughed. Damn but it felt weirdly nice to hear someone talk about Scott, someone who knew him and loved him the way Gabriel had—as a brother. “Yeah, he wasn’t too subtle. So, what’s the story?”
“We met in Billings. Greg and I were going to college there, but, since we were married, we lived off campus in a studio apartment in a cruddy part of town. I was nine months pregnant and had a Kit-Kat craving. It was, like,
intense
. I mean, I would’ve
killed
anyone who got between me and a Kit-Kat. But I’d decimated my secret stash, so I had to go out and buy one. Only thing was, it was early March and there was a blizzard.” She shook her head. “Those pregnancy hormones are beasts because it was so stupid for me to go out in that weather. But I
had
to have a Kit-Kat—”
“Or you’d kill someone.”
“Exactly! I’m so glad you understand.”
“Sister, don’t even get me started on PMS cravings.”
She pressed her fingertips to her lips as she laughed, as if she were shocked to hear herself unwind a little. His chest filled with pride that he’d given her that.
“Anyway, I’d been having false contractions for weeks, so I’d gotten used to ignoring them. But by the time I got to the convenience store, they got stronger and stronger. When I tried to get out of the car, a contraction came on really suddenly and it took my breath away. I fell to my knees in the snow and clung to the car door, just trying to keep from passing out. I have no idea how long it went on for, but suddenly my guardian angel appeared.”
“Lily.”
“Yeah. She was in this big, thick coat with bare legs and—” Her eyes darted his way.
“So she was at work?”
“You know about her work?”
“You mean that she was a stripper? Yeah. Why?”
Molly smoothed her palms over her knees. “It’s something a lot of people judge her for. I make it a rule never to tell people what she did in Billings, but it seems like everyone knows anyway.”
“I don’t want to shatter any of your illusions about me, Molly, but I’ve been to a strip club or two. Possibly three. I’d be the last person to judge the women who work in them.”
“Good. About not judging them, I mean. Shame on you for the other thing.”
Her knowing wink told him she was teasing. “Anyway, finish your story. Lily found you in the parking lot.”
“Oh yeah. So, she put her arm around me and helped me hobble inside.”
“The strip club?”
“Yeah. And I vaguely remember all these men jumping out of the way, as if I were contagious.”
He grinned. “We’re simple creatures. Probably the only thing more terrifying than a heavily pregnant woman in a strip club would be if all the patrons’ wives walked in.”
“That’s such a depressing thought.”
“Sorry. We’re not doing depressing thoughts tonight. We’re doing happy thoughts. So tell me more.”
“So Lily took me into the back room, but I had to walk across the stage to get there, and I had a contraction halfway there. Picture me with my belly out to here, clinging to a stripper pole and shouting for Jesus.”
He laughed. “Okay, forget what I just said. That image is
way
scarier than wives showing up.”
“Hopefully those men went home to their wives and apologized profusely. When the contraction faded, Lily took me to the dressing room—or undressing room, I guess—and helped me lie down on a couch that had all these costumes thrown onto it. She called 911 while I tried not to be smothered by feathers and push-up bras. But the paramedics were so busy with the blizzard that they didn’t make it in time.”
His fingers gripped the wheel as he figured out what she was saying. “You mean… you gave birth to Josh in a strip club?”
“Yep. With Lily as my amateur obstetrician. The heat was cranked way up in that place, and Lily was so nervous she was sweating up a storm, so at some point she shrugged off her jacket. I just remember looking down between my legs and seeing a terrified woman wearing nothing but nipple tassels and a G-string yell, ‘I can see the head!’”
“Holy fucking shit.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“I think I said something similar at the time, so don’t worry.”
“That’s… that’s… I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“I’d never experienced anything like it, up till then. That’s why I would do absolutely anything for her. It’s why she’s Josh’s godmother, and it’s one of the reasons she chose Marietta when she felt like she needed a do-over.”
He’d figured out pretty quickly not to underestimate Lily Taylor, but the way Molly told the story—as if Lily were the heroine—made him think Molly underestimated herself. “It couldn’t have been easy for Lily to move to a small town where people knew she’d been a stripper.”
“I don’t know how they found out, but yeah. Some people have been horrible.”
“Except you.” He pulled into the parking lot at Rocco’s and found a space.
“Well, of course not.” She sounded affronted. “Why would I be horrible to her? I’d hate to be horrible to anyone, but especially not to Lily. She’s incredible.”
“So are you, Molly. You said you’d do anything for her, and she’d obviously do anything for you. That tells me you’ve helped her in ways that go beyond most friendships.”
“Well, so has she. I point you to the story I just told.”
He sighed. She wasn’t getting it. He put the truck in Park, unbuckled his seatbelt, and twisted to face her. “Scott told me you were one of Lily’s only champions in town. I think you need to give yourself more credit. You’re a nice person, Molly Dekker.”
She shoved him. Hard.
He suppressed a grin. “I forgot. Four-letter word.”
“Dang right. I’m sick and tired of it.”
“Then you need to stop saying things like
dang
.”
“No. I don’t want to be a rude person. And I don’t mind that people know they can count on me if they need something. I just… I want…” She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her head back against her seat.
“What do you want, Molly?”
She seethed out an angry breath.
“Tell me.”
“I want people to look at me and think, ‘She’s
tough
. She’s had to cope with lots of crud, and she does it with a smile.’ I want to be able to fight my own battles. I want…” She raised her voice, punching the window. “I want my
life
back.”
Frustration radiated off her in waves. The unexpected show of passion was hotter than anything he’d seen in a long time, but the fact he understood exactly what she meant was just as hot. He’d faced shit most people never had to. Thanks to his physique and his training he
was
tough. He doubted anyone looked at him and saw the vulnerability they perceived in Molly simply because she was a sweet, gentle woman.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have the same vulnerability inside him. Some battles were bigger than he could fight on his own. That was why he’d never been sent to stage a rescue alone—not until Josh. And being forcibly retired? Yeah, that was another huge battle he was failing to cope with on his own.
He wanted his life back, too. He wanted his
normal
back.
“You know what I really want? I want one night of just being a woman.”
He blinked. “A woman.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, not to get too personal, but what are you most nights?”
“A mom. A full-time caregiver.” She counted her duties on her fingers. “A schoolteacher. A colleague. An employee. A friend. An ex-wife. I used to be a daughter and a sister, and I still feel like I am—like I partly live my life for my parents and my brother, so they would be proud of me. So I can keep their memories alive.”
“That’s a lot of people to be.” His head hurt just thinking about it.
She turned to him. “You know what I want with my wild card? I want a night just to be me. I don’t even like Italian food that much.”
He glanced at the Rocco’s sign, his hopes for a carefree evening disintegrating. “You don’t?”
“No. I don’t think Josh has ever asked me what kind of food I like. He probably assumes I like Italian because I always take him to Rocco’s when we go out. And the main reason we come here is because I know
he
likes Italian.”
“What kind of food do you like?”
She paused, as if she hadn’t thought about it for so long she couldn’t remember the answer. “I went to a Thai place in Boulder. It was amazing.”
Shit. He’d been hoping for Mexican. His dad had been Mexican, and Gabriel had grown up spending summers with him in L.A. Though Gabriel had never been a great cook, his
abuela
had taught him and Camila how to make several traditional dishes.
But Thai? Yeah, no hope there.
“My ideal date would be Thai food and dancing.”
“Dancing?” A bead of sweat trickled down his neck. He fought the urge to tug at his collar. Rappelling into a collapsed mine was one thing. Dancing?
Hell no. Recipe for humiliation.
“I used to love dancing. I don’t think I’ve danced since my wedding.”
“Why not?”
“I got pregnant on my honeymoon and felt too sick or too massive during my pregnancy. Then I was a mom and a wife—which was kinda the same thing as being a mom—and a full-time student. No time, no money for a babysitter. Lily used to ask me to go out with her—not to the strip club but to other clubs in Billings. But Greg always had to study and didn’t want to watch Josh on his own. Plus, he would’ve had to make his own dinner, which was out of the question when he had a wife to do it for him. And then he graduated and told me that being a husband and father was seriously cramping his style, so he was going to move to Colorado. Hey, presto, I was a single mom and a student teacher. Even less money and less time.”
Gabriel’s hands clenched into fists. “Greg sounds like an asswipe.”
She looked upset. “I don’t mean to talk bad about him. It’s not nice for Josh to hear these stories, and I try not to be negative. But, well… I don’t know why I’m dumping all this on you.”
“You need to dump it on someone. I’m happy to be dumped on.” He cringed. “That sounded so wrong.”
She grinned, and it did something funny to his heart. “Listen, I’m sorry for overreacting at the auction. I’m sorry for forgetting our date, and I’m sorry for losing it just now. I’m trying to keep on top of so much, but sometimes I slip and it all piles on top of me. I really do appreciate you taking me out tonight. Let’s just go inside and—”