Let It Be (Butler, Vermont #6) - Marie Force Page 0,11
since the first day they met. He never had gotten over the way her smile lit up her entire face. Making her smile had been one of his favorite things since their beginning.
“Don’t say anything that can’t be unheard,” Lucas said warily.
“Haha, we’ll spare you the gory details,” Molly said. “Your dad and I were immediately best friends. We ate together, worked together, hung out after work, went to the movies.”
“She took me to see The Shining and Friday the 13th,” Linc said, shuddering. “I wanted to see Airplane! That’s when I found out your mother is diabolical.”
“We knew that,” Will said. “Remember when she picked The Shining for family movie night, and we didn’t sleep for three days?”
Molly laughed. “That might’ve been a parenting mistake.”
“Do you think?” Charley asked.
“What can I say? I’ve always loved the scary stuff. I can’t help it if you’re all like your father—a bunch of babies.”
“Don’t lump me in with them,” Wade said.
“Except for you, Wade. You’re the only one who’d watch scary movies with me.”
“Mama’s boy,” Landon said on a cough.
Wade flipped him the middle finger.
“Anyway,” Linc said, amused by his children as usual, “as the summer went on, your mom and I began to realize we had serious feelings for each other, and the reality of being separated after the summer was starting to loom large. We had our first real fight over what we were going to do when the summer ended.”
“And it was a doozy,” Molly added.
Chapter Four
“Love is all you need.”
—Paul McCartney
The days in Mississippi took on a predictable rhythm—breakfast with the group of volunteers who’d become like family to him and Molly, followed by a long day of hard work in the broiling sun. Molly, who claimed she never tanned, had watched her skin turn a golden brown over the course of the summer.
On Sundays, the one day they had off, they left camp first thing in the morning to go to the beach for the day before dinner at Joseph’s mother’s home, which had become the highlight of their week. Miss Anthea, as she’d told them to call her, could cook like no one Linc had ever met, and the thought of her Sunday dinners had him drooling all week.
She’d also taught them an appreciation for the blues, bringing in an array of local musicians to play each week, hoping to send their volunteers back to their homes with a newfound love for the music Mississippi had made famous.
“Wonder what Miss Anthea is making today,” Linc said.
“Is it okay to hope it’s chicken? I’ve never in my life had chicken as good as hers.”
“Or pulled pork or beans and rice or jambalaya or anything she makes.”
“And the cornbread…” Molly moaned from her spot on the blanket next to him. “The cornbread is to die for.”
“It really is. And now I’m starving.”
“Want to get a hot dog?” she asked.
“I do, in a minute. But first I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About this, us…”
“Oh.”
For a second, Linc worried he might’ve read things wrong, but he hadn’t. He was one hundred percent sure she felt the same way about him as he did about her. As July slipped into August, he was becoming increasingly more concerned about how he’d live without her in his daily life when they went their separate ways in three short weeks.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“What happens after this summer.”
“You’re going to Oxford, and I’m going home to Vermont. That’s what’s happening.”
“What if…”
She put her hand on top of his, her touch sending a bolt of sensation through him the way it always did. “Don’t, Linc,” she said softly. “Don’t go there.”
“Why not?”
“Because. We both know what this is—and what it isn’t.”
“All I know is that in the course of seven weeks, you’ve become the most important person in my life, Mol. I want to be where you are.”
“You’re going to England.”
“I don’t know,” he said, giving voice to his reservations for the first time. “I may have something else in mind now.”
She surprised him when she got up from the blanket and walked away.
His eyes were drawn to the spectacular sight of Molly Stillman in a bikini. Front or back, the view was outstanding. He followed her to the water’s edge, where she stood gazing out at the Gulf of Mexico. In the distance, he could make out the hulking towers of the oil rigs that populated the gulf.
“Talk to me, Molly. Don’t run away.”
Linc couldn’t believe it when he saw tears