Page 18 of Cabin Mate

I cross my arms over my chest for modesty. “So, what are you doing here? Not that you’re not welcome anytime.”

He laughs nervously, his eyes dropping down to my bare legs briefly before looking down at his feet. “We had a date tonight, remember, schmoopsie poo?” He looks up at me through his thick lashes, that permanent glint of mischief in his eyes.

That look right there is probably what gets all the ladies swooning over him.

I huff out a laugh. “You were serious about that?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “We need to be convincing, right? Plus, we have to eat anyway.”

“True.” I look down at my legs, where his eyes seem to keep looking, and suddenly my nightie feels much shorter than it did when I put it on earlier. “I’m going to run upstairs and change … Go ahead and get some wine if you want!”

I make a run for the stairs and he’s gentlemanly enough not to watch my unbecoming half-run.

Chapter 7

Brooks

Molly isn’t upstairs long enough for me to grasp what I just saw. The wild dance moves, the fact that she knows every word to Post Malone’s latest rap song … And then, of course, those smooth legs and the tiny nightgown that looked so soft. Let’s not forget her hair falling down her back … still wet. A strangled whimper escapes my mouth.

Hell, even just the scent of her fresh out of the bath has my body on fire … that subtle yet luxurious herbal scent. I wanted to push her up against the counter and kiss her until both of us were breathless … to feel her skin against mine … to tangle my fingers in her wet hair …

Unfortunately, she sees me as a friend, and that would have been entirely unwelcome. I’m going to have to tread very carefully with this fake boyfriend thing, or I’ll get swept away.

Molly returns quickly, now wearing black leggings, fuzzy slippers, and an MIT sweatshirt. Honestly, it’s just as hot as the nightgown. I gulp slowly and try not to drool.

“Sorry again for not answering my phone.” She laughs, running a hand through her damp hair. “Thanks for bringing dinner. You totally didn’t need to do that. I’m not a high maintenance fake girlfriend.” She grabs a wine glass and fills it for me.

I laugh at her comment. “Whew, good. Because I got hamburgers and not escargot,” I tell her, lifting up a styrofoam container.

“Best fake boyfriend ever!” She grabs the container with a cheesy grin on her makeup-free face. Her skin looks pink and shiny since she just washed her face and probably put all kinds of goop on it the way girls do.

We carry our food and wine into the living room where she has a modern loveseat and sofa in a light pink velvet. Molly has her own eclectic style that I love. Her antique spoon collection is displayed proudly above her mantle. Seeing some of the spoons I’ve given her over the years fills me with pride. I don’t think she’s ever even considered that I’ve been the one randomly sending her spoons over the years. Watercolor paintings hang on each side of the spoon display, one of Vermont in the winter, and the other of Massachusetts in the fall.

Her home is such a random mixture of old and new that somehow fit perfectly together. Her house is a reflection of herself: an old soul who can still get on board with new ideas.

I make myself comfortable on the sofa next to her, but not close enough to be touching or even accidentally brushing arms. Not sure I trust myself after the whole nightgown debacle.

Molly picks up her burger and takes a large bite of it, causing ketchup to drip out the bottom. “Yum. This is probably the best date ever.” She nudges me with her elbow.

I laugh, but can’t help but wish this was really a date, that she was really mine, that I had really given her the best date of her life.

“Not bad for a second date …” I rub my chin with my hand like I’m deep in thought. “Might even take you on a third date.”

She chuckles and dabs at her lips with a paper napkin before taking a sip of her wine. “Well, my sister’s wedding is in a week and a half so … you kind of have to.”

Popping a french fry into my mouth, I chew and swallow quickly before clearing my throat. “Speaking of the wedding … I thought maybe we should have some ground rules.” I shoot her a tense smile.

She quirks a brow. “You? Rules? Who are you and what have you done with Brooks?”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I want to keep this pretty low-key with the bet and all.”

Molly sets her food down and gives me her full attention. “Okay, what were you thinking?”

“Well, we can’t touch each other or I’ll break the rules of the bet.”

She sighs. “Brooks … how is anyone going to believe you’re my new boyfriend if we won’t even touch each other?”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling stressed. I know the likelihood of my brothers finding out about this are slim to none … but if I start holding Molly’s hand … or actually kiss her, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.