His fingers tapped a silent tune on the cushion inches from her bare shoulder. Distracting her. If she leaned in, the smallest of moves, she could draw from his warmth. Molly straightened. “You wore a T-shirt to an interview for a competitive internship. Then ruined your only debate dress shirt with grease from a loaded cheeseburger.”
“I still miss those hamburgers from The Pickled Burger.” He leaned forward as if ready to impart a secret. “I haven’t found sweet potato fries like theirs anywhere. It’s not for lack of trying either. I’ve been sampling them at every restaurant with sweet potato fries on the menu.”
“That’s dedication to a cause,” she said.
“I learned that from you,” he said. “It’s entirely your fault.”
The sudden amusement glinting in his gaze trapped her. A different sort of awareness spread through her. “My fault?”
“I was a perfectly content below-average student in undergrad.” Drew picked up the other champagne flute and tipped it toward her. His voice tipped from teasing to an exaggerated tragic tone. “Until you offered to proofread one of my history papers. Then Dr. Reynolds accused me of paying for the paper to get a passing grade.”
One history paper. One chance to show her appreciation. And nothing had worked out as she’d intended. Molly stared at the champagne in her glass as if her memory surfaced inside the bubbles. “Dr. Reynolds called me into his office too. I was so nervous. I’m surprised I even spoke coherently to your professor.”
Molly had always studied late until the library closed. Drew had always worked out at the gym at night. And he’d always managed to be outside the library to walk her home. She’d wanted to thank him for looking out for her. She’d wanted to pour her gratitude into a kiss. Instead she’d proofread his history paper. Offering tips and feedback enough that his professor mistakenly thought someone else had written it.
“I was terrified. Scared I was going to be expelled and sent home to face my parents’ wrath. Then you came to my defense.” Drew lifted his glass to her in a toast. “I vowed to never let you down again and dedicated myself to my education.”
He hadn’t wanted to let her down? She skimmed over that revelation, opting to focus on the playful and light. “Dedicating yourself to your schoolwork is not the same thing as dedicating yourself to finding the ultimate sweet potato fries.”
“That’s just it.” He laughed. “I learned the rewards of perseverance and focus from you. The reward of biting into the best-tasting sweet potato fry is out there somewhere, waiting on me to find it.”
“I get the rewards of concentrating on your education. And I suppose fries too.” Molly sipped her champagne and stared at Drew. “But I don’t get the connection to me.”
“That was simple.” Drew set his glass on the table and centered his full focus on her. “The real reward was spending more time with you.”
Her heartbeat tripped into rapid, pulsing speed in the silence.
“To be around you, I had to step up my game.” Drew relaxed into the couch.
All that time, Drew had only wanted to spend more time with her. “You never said anything.”
“I never wanted to be a distraction,” he said. “Or to keep you from your goals. I remember you wrote your goals on little pieces of paper and stuck them everywhere as reminders to stay focused.”
She’d had big goals and even bigger dreams back then. Some dreams she hadn’t made public. Or posted around her college suite. But her time spent with Drew, she remembered all of it. And now she was beginning to recall how much she’d missed him. None of that was relevant. “I remember I had to order my own fries at The Pickled Burger because you refused to share yours.”
“I always got the ones you couldn’t finish.” He chuckled. “It was a win-win.”
Would he consider it a win-win if she were his legal counsel? Would he turn away if she confessed that she wanted to spend more time with him after tonight? She took another deep sip of her champagne and centered herself. She needed a client more than a friend. “Drew. When can we talk about your case?”
He blinked and shook his head as if she’d suddenly dropped a roadblock on their memory lane. “I have a possible lead on an apartment for you and Hazel.”
He eased his arm off the back of the sofa, shifting away from her and closing himself off.
The tiniest twinge of hurt twisted inside her. “What kind of a place is it?”
“It’s not the Los Angeles dream house you always described.” He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her. “The one with the glass doors that would fold into the wall to allow the ocean breeze inside and the infinity edge pool that was designed to reflect the sunset.”
“And don’t forget every room would have ocean views and there would be chaise lounges on the rooftop for star gazing.” She pictured her dream home—the one she’d imagined and perfected in her childhood daydreams.
Molly had spent her entire childhood moving from one apartment to another. One city to the next. Never staying longer than six months in any one place. Then her father had walked out. Molly’s mother had simply packed up their meager belongings, relocated to a new town and continued their nomadic lifestyle. Molly had always wanted a house. A permanent place to call home.
Now, she intended to give Hazel the home she herself had never had growing up.
“Did you ever buy your dream house on the beach?” he asked.
The hint of curiosity in Drew’s words pulled her back to the conversation.
“It never quite worked out like I had envisioned.” She shook her head and shifted her gaze toward the city skyline. “My ex, Hazel’s father, had a different
