and took them out to the freezer in the garage. She stayed to help clean up, and she sat at the table with Mama and Lyra as they got out the wedding binder and did a little bit of work on planning for her sister’s big day.
She gathered all the frozen dough into a plastic bag before she hugged everyone in her family good-night, and she drove back to her place alone. Gypsy cried at her for food, and Saltine licked her hand as she refilled his water bowl.
Through it all, Molly couldn’t stop thinking about Hunter and whether she should tell him about her failed marriage tomorrow or keep it quiet a little longer. If she didn’t tell him, she could see him again. If she did, he might end things between them.
She finished taking care of her pets and wandered down the hall to her bedroom. She stepped out of her jeans and shoes and into a silky pair of pajamas in a deep blue. They looked amazing with her hair too, and Molly had definitely learned to play to the strengths in her red hair.
Going to bed early, she texted to Hunter once she’d climbed into bed. You sure you can’t give me a hint about the restaurant tomorrow night?
Wear close-toed shoes, he sent back with a smiley face. Are you feeling all right? It’s barely eight.
Just an emotional afternoon at my mother’s, she sent to him. But the good news is, I got frozen cookie dough out of it.
Save me some, he said, and his next text contained a heart. See you tomorrow at five-thirty.
She let her phone drop to her chest without responding. “Five-thirty is early for dinner,” she mused. Where could he be taking her?
The man had plenty of money, and he obviously knew how to spend it. Did he own a private jet? Would he whisk her off to LA or New York City for a fancy dinner with plenty of dessert?
A smile touched her mouth as her fantasies took flight, and Molly let her eyes drift closed with beautiful thoughts of Hunter running through her mind.
The following afternoon, Molly popped another frozen cookie dough ball into her mouth, knowing she’d regret it. She’d eaten four already, and an ache had settled in her teeth. Her stomach tightened, and her solution was to eat something else to try to get it to quiet.
“Me-oooww,” Gypsy sang from her perch on top of the bookcase, and Molly looked up to her.
“I can’t calm down,” she said. “He’s going to be here any minute.” She looked down at the black denim skirt she’d chosen. Perhaps a skirt was too dressy. Maybe she should just run and change really quickly.
She’d already done that three times, and she’d left her bed covered with a huge amount of discarded clothes. She apparently didn’t own anything suitable for a date with Hunter Hammond, and she lamented the fact that she’d left getting dressed to four o’clock. Had she chosen her outfit earlier in the day, she would’ve realized the dilemma and had time to run to her favorite boutique to find something better than what she currently owned.
Saltine lifted his head from the couch and both he and Gypsy turned toward the door. Hunter had arrived.
He jumped down from the couch, and so keyed up were Molly’s nerves that she forgot to shush him as he ran toward the front door, barking at it before anyone had even touched it.
Gypsy added her yowling voice to the fray, and Molly simply stared at the door.
A moment later, the doorbell rang. Hunter knocked a couple of times too, and called, “Molly, it’s just me.”
Just me.
Just Hunter.
She knew him, and she liked him. They’d always been so comfortable together, even as awkward teenagers. Those two words thawed her, and she darted around the couch and picked up Saltine, shushing him.
“It’s just Hunter,” she said as she opened the door with her free hand. “Stop being such a nuisance.”
Sure enough, Hunter stood on her front porch wearing a magnificent pair of jeans, a red and white plaid shirt, that sexy cowboy hat—this one in a light brown—and the boots she was more accustomed to seeing on his feet.
He held out a box with the words Sugar Lane on the front. “I’m sure you don’t need these, because you ate all the cookie dough, didn’t you?” he teased, his smile big and genuine.
“No,” she said, returning that grin and taking the box. Three large oatmeal