“The hell she was,” he said, his grip tightening. “I’m not the sort of asshole who sits across the table from one woman while thinking about another. I was thinking about you.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and belatedly he realized how that sounded. He released her arm and stepped back. “I just meant that you’re my friend. I’ve got the extra space. Either take the offer or don’t, doesn’t matter to me, but for the love of God, can we stop fucking talking about it?”
Mollie blew out a breath and ran a hand through her tousled hair. The lighter color looked good on her. So did the shorter cut and the sexy waves. He always remembered her as having long brown hair that she wore in a boring braid, but the blond…
It was hot. Mollie was hot.
Jesus, man, get a grip. No wonder she’d shot down his offer to move in. She probably saw him as a stodgy big brother, and meanwhile all he could think about was pulling her toward him, peeling that dress off her, and—
“How long were you thinking?” she asked again.
He blinked as his thoughts scattered. Was she actually considering it? And why the hell did he feel so giddy?
“For as long as you need,” he said simply.
Mollie scratched her nose. “I don’t like clutter.”
He gestured. “Do you see clutter?”
Her eyes scanned the room. “And I have a lot of clothes now. And shoes. Shoes are my thing. I have a shoe thing.”
He gave a slight smile at her babbling. “The guest room at the far end has a walk-in closet.”
Mollie put a hand over her chest and stepped backward. “Stop. That’s my weakness, and you know it.”
Jackson lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “You want to see?”
Mollie chewed her lip, and he felt a strange satisfaction at seeing her caught in turmoil. Mollie had seemed so confident, so sure of herself and everyone around her. He liked that he could put her off balance, just a little bit. Because God knew she’d been knocking him off balance all night.
“Madison would kill me,” she said quietly.
He met her eyes. Held them. “Do you care?”
It was a big question—a bold one. And from the way she looked at the floor, he could tell that she knew he wasn’t just asking about Madison’s feelings on the roommate situation. He wanted to know how much his ex-wife still had her claws into Mollie.
“She’s my sister,” Mollie said in a small voice that Jackson wasn’t used to hearing from her.
She’s also a bitch, Jackson added silently. Aloud he said, “Come on, Molls. You’re always rambling about how Madison looked out for you in those early days. How she practically raised you, blah blah blah.”
“Because she did,” Mollie said, just a bit testily.
Jackson wondered if Mollie had noticed her own use of the past tense. Wondered if, despite her knee-jerk defense of her sister, she knew on some level that Madison had long stopped being the selfless older sister that Mollie remembered from her childhood.
“If Madison wants what’s best for you, don’t you think she’d want this for you over a pet tarantula and cabbage?” he asked, using his whisky to gesture toward the gleaming kitchen.
Mollie chewed the inside of her lip. “I shouldn’t. I can’t.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself. So I shouldn’t bother mentioning that the closet has two built-in shoe racks? And a separate dressing area?”
Mollie groaned, and Jackson resisted the urge to give a fist pump in victory. He had her. He knew he had her.
She blew out a breath. “Okay. Okay. I’ll move in. Temporarily, and on one condition.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
“I pay rent.” She jabbed a finger at him.
“Ah, jeez, Mollie—”
She lifted her finger even higher, a vaguely threatening look on her face that reminded him of a puppy looking for a fight with a much bigger dog.
“Fine,” he muttered. “You can pay rent.”
Mollie made a happy squealing noise before launching herself at him, throwing both arms around his neck, and giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek before all but running down the hall toward her new room.
Jackson gave a grim smile as he glanced down at his whisky. On one hand, he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted. On the other hand…
He tossed back his drink, relishing the burn as it made its way down his esophagus.
Why did he want it?
“Jackson! Get your ass in here!” she called.
He opened his eyes and made his way toward his new roommate, wondering if she was struck by déjà vu as much as he was, remembering a much younger Mollie who’d shown all the same enthusiasm when she’d moved into his and Madison’s guest room for a summer.
But not exactly the same, huh, old man?
He stepped into the bedroom just as Mollie came out of the closet.
No, this time it wasn’t the same. Because this time Jackson wasn’t married. And when Mollie Carrington met his eyes and smiled, Jackson had never been quite so aware of his single status.
Or quite so grateful.
Chapter 5