“Nope.”I shook my head and got out of the truck. When she began to open the passengerside door, I hurried around to stop her.
“What?”
“You’renot supposed to open your own door,” I protested, pulling it open and extendinga hand to her.
Sheaccepted as she said, “In my defense, I’m a little out of practice. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone out with such a gentleman.”
“Well,from what I’ve heard, you’veneverbeen out with a gentleman,” I quipped, shutting the door behind her, andMolly’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Whoa.That’s some jealous talk right there.”
“Nope.”I shook my head and led her to the front door. “Just statin’ the facts.”
Iunlocked the door and we both stepped inside. Molly surveyed the living room,as though she expected there to be something special waiting for her, and Ifought back a chuckle when I noticed her face fall with perplexeddisappointment. She was clueless, and I was loving every second of it.
“Whereare your parents?” she finally asked, turning to face me.
“Withyour mama and Hank.”
“So,”she swept her gaze over the living room once more, “we’re alone right now?”
“Yep.‘Though I can’t promise our mothers haven’t rigged the place with cameras.They’ve been really excited about this.” I peered into corners for effect, andMolly giggled.
“Oh,I don’t doubt it. Wasthis alltheiridea?”
“Nope.”I reached out and took her hand. I was never going to get tired of doing that.“Come on.”
Ibrought her through the house, and every step of the way, she looked aroundwith suspicion. I tried to imagine what she expected. A late-night surpriseparty? A candle-lit dinner? I hoped she wouldn’t be upsetwhen she got neither.
Aswe stopped at the backdoor, I turned to her. “Okay. Almost there. But first,yougottaput this on,” and I tugged a blindfold frommy pocket.
Mollyglared with narrow-eyed suspicion. “The last time you made me wear a blindfold,you put atoadin my hands.”
Isnorted, not expecting that comment. “Oh, God, I forgot about that. You were sopissed.”
“Uh,yes. Yes, I was. So, I’mtellin’ you right now, ifyou think it’sgonnabe cute to relivethatchildhood memory, I will nothesitate to kick you in the balls.”
Ilaughed, trying hard not to lose myself in the hardened glare of her eyes. “Iswear, I’m not.”
Awarning flashed over her gaze before she turned around in silent, albeitreluctant, permission. I laid the strip of black fabric over her eyes and tiedit behind her head. Dropping my hands to her shoulders, I fought the urge tolinger there to lean down and smell her hair. I wanted to press my lips to theexposed curve where her neck met shoulder. To know how soft her skin would feelagainst my mouth. Yet, with a deep breath, I pushed the desire away and simplygripped her shoulders in my hands.
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”She nodded eagerly, and I steered her toward the backdoor, watching both setsof our feet as we moved. Opening the door, I instructed her to step down to thedeck and she replied, “You better not let me fall down those stairs, Chad. Iswear, I’ll hurt you.”
Chuckling,I shook my head. “I won’t! Jesus, I’mstartin’ tothink you don’t trust me.”
“Well,canyablame me? I mean, you spent half our childhoodfindin’ every way imaginable to torture me.”
“Idon’t remember that,” I muttered, feigning innocence as I remembered aChristmas where I told her Santa couldn’t come because he was stuck in hergrandma’s chimney. With a chuckle, I led her across the deck and to the stairs,where I stopped. “Okay, hold on tight.”
Mollycocked her head. “What are you—” Her words were cut short with a gasp when Ihoisted her into my arms. She grasped for my shoulders and neck as I carriedher down the steps. “Oh, my God. You’regonnahurtyourself!”
“What?”I scoffed, reaching the bricked patio. “How would I hurt myself?”
“Um,‘causeI’m not exactly a small girl.”
“Well,you’re not big either,” I insisted, lifting her higher for emphasis.
