The Christmas Wedding Ring

Dylan hadn’t known what to expect, but he was stunned when he saw a gold wedding band lying on the dark wood. “This is so sudden,” he said, going for the joke because he wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s not what you think,” Molly told him.

“Good, because I don’t know what to think.”

“Do you remember the ring?”

He picked it up. “Of course.” He’d only ever bought one wedding ring in his life. It had been for Janet, back when he’d known that if he had to try to go on without her, he would die. Obviously, he’d been wrong. Time was a great healer. So were life’s lessons.

“I got it for your sister,” he said.

“Then you gave it to me, the day she got married.”

He nodded. Thinking that actually seeing part of the ceremony would heal the last of his wounds, he’d gone to the church. Molly had come out to tell him goodbye. He recalled tossing her the ring, but he couldn’t remember why.

She drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to go. There were assorted reasons, but the only one I was willing to tell you was that you’d promised me an adventure when I grew up. So you handed me the ring and said that when I was ready for that adventure, I was to bring this to you.” She cleared her throat. Color stained her cheeks, and she ducked her head so that she was staring at the table. “Well, I’m ready if you’re still willing.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_7f65d646-86ea-50eb-9f1e-4a3c2ebed228)

Molly felt as though someone had installed a blender in her stomach. As if the almost violent sloshing and churning weren’t enough, she had the horrible feeling she was going to throw up. Now that would be a pleasant visual for Dylan to remember.

Nerves, she told herself. It was just nerves. That and tequila on a very empty stomach. Whatever had she been thinking? The problem was, of course, she hadn’t been thinking. She hadn’t allowed herself, because no normal, sane person would have asked Dylan what she’d just asked him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he excused himself and called 911—asking that they bring those people in the white coats.

She forced herself to look at the way his dark eyes had widened slightly. He didn’t exactly look ready to bolt, which was very nice, considering. She doubted she would have been as polite in his position.

She cleared her throat. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t believe I said that.”

“So we have something in common.”

At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “Okay, it’s crazy—I admit that. You probably think I’m crazy, too. Maybe I am, but don’t worry, I’m not dangerous.”

He rested the ring in the palm of his hand and stared at it. Molly found her gaze drawn to the row of calluses at the base of his fingers. He’d obviously spent a lot of time doing physical labor. She had a feeling that the first few years he was in business, he’d done most of the assembling himself. Probably late at night, alone in a warehouse somewhere. Dylan had always been determined and driven. She doubted that had changed. He wasn’t the sort of man who gave in easily, nor did he get to be as successful as he obviously was by listening to harebrained schemes. He was going to tell her no.

She turned that thought over in her mind. She was surprisingly okay with it. It was enough that she’d asked. For once, she’d taken the initiative—she hadn’t waited. She’d gone after something that was important to her. Maybe there was hope. A sense of pride filled her and she squared her shoulders. This was a tiny step toward the new life she wanted for herself.

“Here you go,” the waitress said, placing huge platters with oversized burgers and a mountain of crisp, golden steak fries in front of each of them. She pulled bottles of catsup and mustard out of one apron pocket and a handful of extra paper napkins out of the other. “Enjoy.” She gave them a broad smile and left.

The food smelled great. Molly’s stomach growled in anticipation, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to choke down a bite.

Dylan applied mustard to the inside of the top of the bun, then settled the bread in place. But he made no move to pick up his burger. He raised his gaze to her face.

“Why?” he asked.

She knew she could pretend not to understand what he was asking, but that was too much like cheating. Why? A simple question. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a simple answer. At least not one she was willing to share with him. It was too personal and too humiliating. But he did deserve an explanation of some kind.

She took the mustard and shook out a dollop, then smoothed it on the toasted top bun. “I’ve reached an impasse in my life. There are a lot of things I have to think about, some decisions that have to be made. I can’t seem to focus on anything, so I decided to get away. I go to Janet’s every year for Christmas, but I didn’t want to disrupt her family for two whole weeks beforehand. I had no idea what to do or where to go.”

“There’s always the North Pole,” he said.

She gave him a half smile. Her lips were still a little numb from the margarita. “I suppose, but I think I’m a bit old to run away to the North Pole. Besides, I’ve never been that fond of penguins. They scare me.”

“Pretty sure they live at the South Pole,” he said.

“Polar bears, then.” She picked up her burger, then set it back on the plate. “As I said, I hadn’t decided where to go, but I figured inspiration would come to me, so I started packing. While I was going through my drawers, I found the ring. It gave me an idea, so here I am.”

If the truth be told, she was starting to be a little sorry she’d given in to the impulse. What on earth had she been thinking? She supposed she actually hadn’t been thinking at all. “I’ve already confessed that it was crazy. I don’t usually give in to impulses, so I can’t explain this one. I guess I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, Dylan. Forget I ever said anything. I’m sure you’re as busy as everyone is over the holiday season.”

She pushed the plate away and wondered how she could make a graceful exit. After all, they’d driven to the restaurant in Dylan’s sleek, expensive car. Even if it wasn’t too far to walk back, she didn’t have a clue where his office was.

He picked up a steak fry and ate it. “I haven’t said no yet.”

She felt her eyes widen. “You can’t be considering what I’m asking.”

“I might be.” He grinned.

This smile was different from the one he’d given her when he’d first seen her. That one had been pleasant and welcoming, but more impersonal. This one was a thousand watts of male trouble in the making. She felt the heat clear down to her toes. She was sure that if she looked, she would see little puffs of smoke drifting out of her loafers.

“You realize if you even consider doing this you’re crazy, too,” she said.

“It won’t be the first time someone has called me that.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed. Molly told herself to stop staring, but she couldn’t seem to make her eyes behave. Some of her sadness and fear lifted. It was enough that he hadn’t flat-out refused her. No matter what, she would remember this brief time, and when reality got too ugly, she would pull out this memory to make her smile.

Sunlight filtered into the restaurant through the painted window. A sunbeam illuminated Dylan like a spotlight on a movie set. He was handsome enough to be the leading man, she thought, pleased that although he’d matured, he still looked as wonderful and perfect as ever. There was something very pleasant about spending a few hours in the presence of a good-looking man. It didn’t matter that they were physically mismatched or that she wasn’t even close to being his type. This wasn’t about wanting him in the way she had when she’d just been fourteen and deeply enamored with all things Dylan.

Aesthetically, he appealed to her. The dark hair, worn short—not even to his collar. Years before, it had touched his shoulders. She decided she liked the more conservative style better. His eyes were as she remembered, although there were a few faint lines in the corners. His mouth was firm, his jaw well shaped. The gold earring was gone. He’d filled out a little. From the hints of movement under his dress shirt and suit slacks, he was in the same great shape as before. He was still the most amazing man she’d ever met.

He had a confidence about him that spoke of his power. It was probably for the best that they didn’t go away together. After all, she doubted her hormones were any more controllable than they had been fourteen years earlier. The last thing she needed in her life was to deal with having a crush on him. It would be silly.

A voice in her head whispered that right now she could use a little silliness, but she ignored the words.

Maybe they could skip the trip and simply fall into bed together. A night of great sex would clear her sinuses for a month.

Molly picked up her drink and took another sip. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to wish for the moon. Men like Dylan Black were interested in women like her sister. They wanted leggy, slender females with model-perfect faces. She was not that.

Some people thought her wavy-curly hair was unusual, but she thought it was a pain, which is why she usually tied it back in a braid. Her hazel brown eyes were what she referred to as the color of “rain-washed mud.” She had a decent smile, even though her mouth was too small. Her nose was too big, but her ears were cute. Her skin was clear now—adolescence had not been good for her skin. Then there was the matter of those twenty pounds she’d been trying to lose since she was born. In a world of size-eight beauties, she was a frumpy size twelve.

“You’re looking fierce about something,” Dylan said.

“It’s not important.”

His good humor faded. “Are you in trouble, Molly? Are you on the run from something?”

She was, but not in the way he meant the question. Besides, she wasn’t about to explain about all that.

“If you’re asking if I’ve committed a felony, the answer is no,” she told him. “I am on the run, but only from myself. I haven’t done anything wrong.” And that was part of the problem, she thought. If only she had a few regrets about things she’d done, rather than wasting all her regret on what she’d never gotten around to doing. “I just wanted to get away.”

Which she was still going to do, regardless of what he said. She put down her margarita and leaned toward him. “Haven’t you ever felt the world closing in on you? It’s like no matter where you turn or what you do, there’s no escape. It feels like nothing is changing or is ever going to, yet the reality is that nothing is the same.” She shrugged. “I know I’m not making any sense.”

Dylan stared at her. “You would be surprised at how much sense you are making.”