Mollywood (2 page)

He must have heard me come into the room, because he turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes widened and swept me from head to toe as he slowly turned.

“Well?” I twirled in a circle so that my skirt flared, revealing my ivory petticoat underneath. Joe blinked twice, and his square jaw dropped. “Worth the wait, Captain Patience?”

“You look…amazing.” His smoldering gaze honed in on mine, and he took several steps toward me. Just when I was sure he’d pull a Joe and ravish my lipstick off, he halted and frowned. Raking a hand through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath. “We
really
do have to go.”

“Right.” I agreed, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. There never seemed to be enough time anymore for the good stuff. I reached for the door handle, and recalling the last time we got carried away my eyes flew wide. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

I crossed the room and scooped up a blue garter belt from the coffee table with my index finger. Holding it up for his inspection, my lips curled in a naughty smile. “Something borrowed
and
blue!”

Joe smirked, probably remembering how he’d taken the garter off with his teeth the night before. The way his brow immediately furrowed again told me we’d be having another one of our “talks” on the way out to Lake Travis. My heart sank in anticipation. Our discussions were beginning to feel a lot like lectures, and it grew harder each time to keep a lid on my temper.

Joe had been after me for several weeks to shut down truck one long enough for him to install an extra air conditioner. He felt that part of the reason I’d been feeling run down was my constant exposure to the 130 degree temperatures in the truck all summer long. I argued back that I couldn’t stand to lose the revenue and that if he really wanted to make himself useful, he could install external misters so that customers would linger longer and buy more. It had been over 100 degrees for nearly a month straight and the food truck parks had been like ghost towns. Thankfully, truck one had a permanent home outside of a bar, and that same Texas heat made people thirsty. The truck at Cas’s bar more than made up for the slower action at the other location. And more importantly, the heat wave had finally come to an abrupt end. Still, Joe was like a dog with a bone about making the alterations to the older of my two trucks. He just didn’t get that I couldn’t shut down at the drop of a hat, but he would soon enough now that he had his own employees who depended on him.

It was hard to stay mad at him, though. I’d been lusting after Joe since I was in the ninth grade, but that was “Old happy-go-lucky Joe”. That man no longer existed of course, though sometimes my Joe did a fairly convincing impersonation of him. He truly seemed contented most of the time, but “Brooding and Complicated Joe” returned a bit more with every passing day. I’d wondered more than once if he was skipping his weekly sessions with his psychiatrist.

Joe reached for my hand and laced his fingers in mine, pulling me toward the door. We managed to get all the way to TX-1 Loop N and were on our way out of Austin before he turned the music down and started in.

Again.

“You need to change your phone number.” His tone was stone cold. I turned my head in his direction, but he kept his eyes on traffic.

“I’ve already changed it once.” My stomach tied itself in knots. We were revisiting an older fight, and the topic change caught me off guard. Unsnapping my purse, I grabbed the container of mints rather than the bottle of Xanax next to it. If I’d have thought I could have kept it down, I’d have swallowed both. When I spoke again, it sounded like a plea for mercy. “Joe…we’ve been over this…”

“Baby girl, I
swear
I’m not trying to pick a fight.” His voice softened, as he glanced sideways at me. I was a sucker for that sad puppy dog expression and his sexy Texan drawl. I settled into the headrest behind me, swiftly defeated by his time-tested strategy.

“I don’t want to fight with you either. Today’s supposed to be a happy day.” Instead of looking victorious, Joe just seemed even more troubled. I despised seeing him down and knowing I was the cause made it worse Unable to resist, I reached over and stroked the sensitive skin on the back of his neck with my fingertips. He smiled and pulled away.

“Stop that. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.” Joe’s extreme ticklishness was his Achilles heel, and his neck was my favorite target. Taunting him would usually make him dissolve into fits of laughter or cause him to pull over and have his wicked way with me. As far as I was concerned, either result would be a win. But traffic was thick, so it was in our best interest for him to focus on the road. There’d be plenty of time after the wedding for all manner of kink, so I grudgingly removed my offending digits.

Thankfully my distraction tactics worked and he dropped the subject. We moved on to our other favorite topic, how busy we’d both be in the next few weeks. Joe had recently hired my brother, Mac, initially to keep up with his insane workload. Good Wood was already doing custom furniture and carving but the moment Mac came on board, he opened a whole other product line.

Mac had a special talent for restoration projects and had worked all over the area. He was on the short list of people that did that kind of thing well, which meant when the materials couldn’t be used in the restoration, he often had first dibs on salvageable stuff others never got a chance to see. He’d hoarded tons of material that he had salvaged over the years from buildings set for demo. He had a couple of storage units, some things at mom’s in her shed, and his garage and shop were overrun with the stuff. His ex-wife, Princess Patron, had once famously threatened to burn their house down just to destroy all his “beloved old shit”, as she put it.

Between helping Joe fulfill the already overloaded job requests, Mac had built a birthday present for our mom. An insanely cool coffee table made from the mantle that had once rested over the fireplace at our family’s old restaurant, Hildebrandt’s. I had my friend and webmaster, Jay, add the pictures of the table to the Good Wood website and people when nuts. Suddenly, everyone wanted repurposed pieces. Francis, Joe’s head of sales, had been fielding orders far faster than the guys could build them. Now Joe was looking to add another new employee to keep up with demands. I thought about the long days Joe and Mac were putting in and the hours I’d be covering for Sanchez all next week and groaned.

“
We
need a vacation.”

“That we do.” Joe agreed, cocking an eyebrow with a sideways glance in my direction. “Where do you wanna go?”

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “The beach. Somewhere isolated. Just you and me and a hammock under a palm tree. No phones, no computers, completely unplugged. Preferably naked.”

Joe snickered, and as if the lightened mood had summoned it, my phone rang. It’s funny how your favorite song, when used as your ringtone, can quickly become the most grating sound
ever
. I huffed and yanked the phone out of my purse. I frowned when I saw an unfamiliar number.

“Who is it?” Any sign of amusement had vanished from Joe’s chiseled features.

“I don’t know.” I admitted, aware my answer wouldn’t go over well.

His jaw tensed and he inhaled deeply. “Let it go to voicemail.”

I clenched my teeth and nodded. He was right, but I’ve never been a fan of being told what to do. Dropping the phone into my purse, I tossed it back onto the floor.

Joe pulled my car up to our destination, and I fidgeted nervously with my skirt. The Oasis was an imposing four story facility that could seat close to 2500 guests total. It sat overlooking Lake Travis with the most spectacular views imaginable. There were several different spaces they rented for parties, and the one we were destined for was one of the more modest sized rooms. The ceremony was scheduled to be on the terrace at 6:00 p.m. The reception would follow immediately afterward inside The Sunset Villa room. I had to admit, The Oasis was a breathtaking location for a wedding.

Joe opened the door for me, and as we crossed the parking lot to the entrance I felt his hand come to rest on the small of my back. I felt those familiar butterflies in response to his touch. When it came to Joe Jensen, I’d had butterflies for so many years that they felt like old friends.

Even after all these months, it was hard to believe he was really mine. He’d been best pals with my older brothers when they were all in high school, and then they’d all been roommates for a couple years after. Most girls would’ve been overjoyed to have their brother’s leave home, but I was bummed that Joe wouldn’t be hanging out in the basement rec room anymore. I found any excuse to go visit them at their shitty rental house. Joe was always sweet to me, though the twins teased me mercilessly for my obvious infatuation. After a couple years of unrequited crushing, I’d finally taken the hint that I was dreaming and moved on to boys my own age.

I sort of lost track of Joe on my march through life. I graduated and ran off to culinary school on the west coast. I’d settled in Seattle, hoping to make a name for myself that had nothing to do with being the daughter of a successful restaurateur. For a while, I was on track to do just that, but got derailed, as so many other young women do, by a smooth talking Prince Charming.

When I got divorced and moved back home to Austin last year, I ran into Joe again while cooking at my brothers’ jobsite. I’d been shocked at his dramatic transformation. Though he was still ridiculously good looking, his attitude completely sucked. Sweet Joe had become bitter and brusque. Of course, once I’d learned that he’d lost his wife and unborn baby in a car accident, his war torn demeanor made perfect sense.

Jessica and Jack’s untimely deaths always disturbed me, and thinking about it made me feel awfully petulant. Joe had definitely been through hell and come out the other side surprising well adjusted. However, he could be a bit overprotective, but based on his past it was kind of understandable. At least, he was working on his issues rather than ignoring them. Granted, his therapy had been court ordered after he got in one fight too many. Dr. Green was assigned to help him with anger management. It hadn’t always been a smooth relationship from what Joe had shared with me, but lately he had made significant progress. So much progress, in fact that Dr. Greene had released him from mandatory therapy months ago. Joe had made the choice to keep going , which I considered a positive sign.

If I was honest with myself, Joe had legitimate reasons to be concerned about me. My ex-husband was a total psycho stalker. But Draven was locked up and serving time and besides…I could take care of myself. I’d been doing so for years before Joe was around.

I found myself looking over at Joe’s perfect profile, and felt that familiar ache in my chest. Frustrated at our disjointed state and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I stopped in my tracks. Joe turned to face me, a perplexed expression marring his flawlessness. I placed my hands on both of his uncharacteristically smooth cheeks and looked him in the eye.

“I love you, Joe.” I felt my throat narrow painfully, and blinked away unexpected tears.

“I love you, too.” His frown deepened and he brushed my sweeping bangs away from my eyes. “What’s wrong, Molly?”

It was a good question and I wished I had a reasonable explanation. We’d come so far and been through so much, it seemed unfair that we couldn’t get it together long enough to enjoy any of it. I’d been wracking my brain for weeks to find the right thing to say, a verbal Band-Aid to slap over a hemorrhaging wound. It made me wish my love life could be as straightforward as my job. A good chef can throw random ingredients into a pot and create something delicious. On rare occasions, fate does the same thing with hearts. With the right combination of elements at just the right time, a couple can fall head over heels in love. That being said, blending two lives can get messier than any kitchen and also a hell of a lot harder to clean up. I wasn’t usually such a bawl baby, but when it came to Joe, all bets were off. I was freaked out about “us” just then, and what we were becoming. I pulled his face down to meet mine and kissed his lips delicately, so he wouldn’t be covered in my lipstick all night. “Let’s try to enjoy ourselves and talk about the ugly stuff afterwards. Okay?”

He nodded, his cheeks flushing. I could tell he needed to vent, too. But this was neither the time nor the place for it.

We entered the grand foyer and I heaved an appreciative sigh. The Oasis truly was breathtaking. Joe whistled. Based on the expression he wore as he looked around, he was also impressed.

“Just how much are you paying these two?” Joe drawled and I elbowed him with a grin. My employees, Stacy and Sanchez, might both be certifiable lunatics, but they had excellent taste.

“They reserved a smaller room upstairs.” I pressed the elevator button and the doors immediately popped open. The moment the doors closed, Joe turned and gave me a lecherous smile.

“Mess up my lipstick and I’ll kill you.” I threatened and he looked away with a wry smirk. A moment later the elevator stopped moving and the door opened.

I spotted Sanchez the moment we stepped off into the sunny room. At 6’5’ and 250 pounds of solid muscle, he was kind of hard to miss. Sanch looked surprisingly suave in his black tuxedo and I was relieved to see he’d talked Stacy out of the white tux with tails. There was upscale and then there was plain ridiculous.

“Dirty S!” I squealed, giving my favorite co-worker a huge hug. “You look very sharp, sir!”

“Molly. Thank God you’re here. Stacy’s starting to freak.” His quiet voice quivered a bit and I realized he looked petrified. His dark skin looked rosy around the apples of his cheeks and a crease appeared between his dark brown eyes. Both he and his fiancée worked in my food trucks, Wrapgasmic. Stacy was the cashier and operations manager for truck number one, which was permanently, parked outside of Cas’s, a popular bar on East Sixth. She was also my marketing goddess, and worked social media like she was born to it. Sanchez was my head chef for truck number two, which was usually parked somewhere on South Congress. They were both indispensable to me, having been my first crew when I moved back to Austin and launched the brand. They were each hardworking and gifted in their own way and God knows where I’d be without them. I’d nearly bit my tongue off when they announced their engagement, since Stacy was about as constant as a hummingbird and I was afraid she’d break up our Wrapgasmic family.