Wild about Weston (The English Brothers Book 5) (8 page)

What had he been thinking to make his speech so personal? He’d meant to encourage her to believe that even if Dusty wasn’t “the one,” there was someone great out there for her. There had to be. There had to be someone as amazing
as
Molly
for
Molly.

Politely accepting congratulations and kind wishes, he followed her as quickly as he could, relieved when the band started playing again and couples filed out onto the dance floor. Flicking a quick glance at Molly’s table, he locked eyes with J.C. Rousseau, who looked at him curiously with a dry smirk on his face. Weston almost backtracked to find out if J.C. had said or done anything to upset her, but in his heart, Weston knew it was his words that had struck a chord with Molly…because he’d wanted them to.

He peeked into the front parlor, not surprised to see the silhouette of a petite woman in front of the windows in the moonlight, looking out over the snow covered grounds of Haverford Park. Pausing in the doorway for a moment, he wondered what to say to her.

“Molly…” he started, pulling the parlor door shut behind him.

“I didn’t see it coming,” she said softly with her back to him.

“What do you mean?”

She turned away from the windows to face him, her face glistening with tears. “Dusty. I should have seen it coming.”

“Molly, I’m sorry if I said anything that made you sad. I was only trying to remind you not to lose hope.”

“It was a beautiful toast,” she said, her voice breaking a little.

He crossed the room and reached for her hand, tugging it away from her chest where it was pressed. “Come sit with me. Tell me a little bit about you and Dusty.”

“You don’t want to hear this,” she argued.

“I do,” he said simply, surprised to realize it was true.

She let him lead her to a small loveseat where they sat down side by side. He put his arm around her, and Molly dropped her head to his shoulder with a deep sigh.

“When did you meet him?” he asked.

“Second grade.”

“
What?
”

“Mm-hm. We were both seven. He was the new kid in town. He pulled on my braids and gave me a toothless smile.”

“That’s all it took, huh? I could have Stratton knock out a couple of my teeth for you if that’s your thing…”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, laughing softly. But he felt the lightness of the moment recede quickly as she took a deep breath. “We started dating in high school. Went to OSU together. Went to OSU grad school together. We both wanted to be teachers.”

“Is that what you do?” he said. “Teach?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. I got my teaching certificate and applied to Teach for America right away. My parents and siblings didn’t like it much. They all live close together, have Sunday dinner every week. They’re in and out of each other’s homes…and lives. It caused a riff when I first left, but over the months, we’ve mended it. I’d always talked about teaching at an inner-city school, but I don’t think they really thought I’d go.”

“Your family doesn’t approve of you working in Philadelphia?” he asked, thinking that he and Molly had a lot more in common than he’d originally guessed. She’d just had the strength to stand up for what she wanted, while he still wrestled with what to do.

“I work in
North
Philly,” she said meaningfully. “Near Strawberry Mansion.”

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Weston leaned back a little so he could look into her eyes. He knew his face probably looked surprised and concerned, but he couldn’t help the sudden protectiveness that surged for her. “That’s a bad neighborhood, Molly. That’s a
dangerous
neighborhood.”

“It’s not the best,” she agreed.

It was none of his business, but he hated the thought of Molly heading to North Philadelphia every day where school shootings were more and more common, and gang violence was prevalent. He’d done extensive research on the North Philly neighborhood of Strawberry Mansion for an ancillary class on forensics and knew that the crime rates there were well above the national average.

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither did Dusty,” said Molly in a tired voice. “He was appalled the one time he came to visit, in fact. He couldn’t understand why I’d choose to be here instead of at home, teaching at Hopeview High.”

Weston hated to feel any camaraderie with Dusty, so he desperately needed to understand her reason for choosing such a high-risk place to work.

“I’m not sure I do, either.”

“I want to make a difference.”

Molly had no idea, of course, of the searing impact of her words on Weston. Like her, he wanted to make a difference in the world, specifically by working in the Juvenile Department of the D.A.’s office, supporting the principle of Balance and Restorative justice for underage and first-time offenders.

I want to make a difference.

He rolled the words around in his head, savoring them, in awe of them. Six words that summed up Weston’s dreams. How he envied and admired Molly for
living
them.

“…kids who live in Strawberry Mansion deserve just as much of a chance as the kids growing up in Hopeview, Ohio. They are angry and difficult, and I will never get through to some of them. But, there are some who are…exceptional. They turn their faces up to me and listen in spite of themselves. They pretend to be bored, but then turn in amazing homework assignments. Out of nowhere they’ll share a thought or a feeling about a book I’m teaching, and I swear to God, it’s a rush like you wouldn’t believe.”

Weston was utterly floored by the passion in her voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone discuss their work with such enthusiasm, such satisfaction and excitement. He looked into her eyes, shining with promise and thought,
I want what you have.

“What?” she asked, furrowing her brows. “You think I’m a zealot?”

“I think you’re amazing,” he whispered.

“Oh.” She smiled in surprise or relief, maybe, but her smile faded quickly. “Dusty didn’t.” Then she added softly, “You know…it’s not all his fault.”

“Aw, please.
Please
don’t do that, Molly. He cheated on you. He’s a shitbag excuse for a—”

“I agree,” she said. “He’s a terrible person for cheating on me. But, I think he had this vision of us teaching side by side at Hopeview High, and I had this vision of teaching in an inner city school somewhere. If I’m being honest, I need to admit that it’s possible while his plan included me, mine may not have included him.”

Weston’s fingers caressed the ball of her shoulder gently. “Then he should’ve broken up with you.”

“Agreed.” She nodded again, but he didn’t hear her breathing hitch like tears had started. In fact she took a smooth, deep breath and sighed. “Thanks for listening. It helped to talk about it.”

“Anytime.”

“I keep pulling you away from your brother’s wedding.”

“I follow you willingly every time,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her head. “Besides, you’re making it less horrible for me, remember?”

“It’s your turn to tell me… the girl who was supposed to come with you tonight. What happened?”

Her voice was sweet and kind, and he sensed her interest in him was as true and compassionate as his has been a few moments before. But the thing was he had no interest in talking about Connie. In fact, what had happened with Connie this morning felt like a million years ago. Molly McKenna had happened since, and right now, right here, he only wanted to concentrate on her.

“Another time,” he said, kissing her head again. “Hey, Molly McKenna, who is crazy enough and amazing enough to go teach kids in North Philly every day to make a difference…are you brave enough to dance with an English brother?”

As luck would have it, the band was playing another one of her favorite songs from
Singin’ in the Rain
called “You Were Meant for Me” as they made their way back into the ballroom hand in hand.

Weston led her onto the dance floor, pulling her expertly into his arms, and she considered how odd it was to have arrived at the church so angry and forlorn, only to find herself swaying gently on the dance floor with Daisy’s brother-in-law several hours later. His words during the toast,
Someone who
gives
you hope, when you’d just about run out of it. And you know…someday, it’ll happen for you
, had been meant for her, but it was
Weston
—with his hot kisses and kindness and conversation—that was making her believe they were true.

Dusty isn’t the end of the line
, she told herself. Molly didn’t have a clue who she’d end up with, but some small part of her was relieved that Dusty wasn’t the one. In a strange turn of events, gratitude was starting to rear its lovely head and remind her that everything happens for a reason. She and Dusty weren’t meant to be, and when Molly separated out the humiliation from the actual break-up, she realized some part of her was grateful to be free.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Weston.

No. He’d been kind enough to listen to her talk about Dusty twice now. She wasn’t going to let Dusty steal any more time from her and Weston tonight.

“I love this song,” she said, grinning at him.

“It’s from my mom’s favorite movie,” confided Weston.

“Mine too!”

“Your favorite or your mom’s favorite?”

“My mom’s,” exclaimed Molly.

“
You look lovely in the moonlight
, Molly,” said Weston, trying not to laugh.

She laughed
for
him. The line he’d recited came right before the song they were dancing to in the movie. “How many times have you seen it?”

“Five thousand and fifty-eight,” he answered, deadpan. “You?”

“At least that many. Any time it was on TBS or PBS, every Christmas day, every time it rained…the list goes on and on.”
“I feel your pain.”

“It’s not that bad…
the angels must have sent you and they meant you just for me
…”

Realizing that she’d just broken into an impromptu sing-along, she felt her cheeks flush hot, and drew her bottom lip between her teeth sheepishly.

His eyes, which had watched her with surprise as she sang the words, immediately dropped to her lips and lingered there. When his eyes cut back to her, his were stormy, and his voice was low and gravelly when he said, “If dinner wasn’t about to start, I’d drag you up the back staircase again.”

Molly sucked in a breath, her eyes widening as she stared back at him, wishing they had hours until dinner. The music ended, and Weston stopped dancing, but he held onto her, standing on the edge of the dance floor. He stared at her face as though he were memorizing it, and Molly, captivated by the intensity in his gaze, was helpless to do anything but stare back. He was so beautiful with his wild eyes and a lock of his blond hair falling over his forehead. She reached up and raked her fingers slowly through it, feeling his eyes on her, hot and hungry, until her fingers stilled on the back of his neck.

“Stables after dinner?” he asked softly, making no move to let her go.

Molly licked her lips and pursed them, nodding, stunned by the equal amounts of tenderness and lust she felt for him.

His hands loosened on her lower back, and she suddenly released the breath she’d been holding. What in the world was happening to her?

Taking her hand, he walked her over to her table, pulling out her chair.

“Wes!” said Brooks Winslow, oldest brother of Alex’s girlfriend, Jessica, and Weston’s sometimes riding companion. “Congratulations on your new sister-in-law. Daisy’s a vision.”

“Thanks, Brooks.”

“Fitz is one lucky bastard,” added Preston.

The rest of the table offered their own versions of congratulations and good cheer as Molly settled in her seat.

“You’ve returned our Molly,” said J.C., lifting his glass and winking at her. “
Un seul être vous manque et tout est dépeuplé.
”

Molly laughed nervously, wishing she knew what J.C. had said and feeling a little embarrassed by so much attention.

When Weston didn’t say anything, she twisted her neck to glance up at him standing behind her chair and was surprised to find his expression way beyond icy—it was positively glacial as he looked back at J.C., and Molly sensed it relayed a message that J.C., with his smug grin, read loud and clear.

Finally, Weston cut his eyes to Molly. She watched his face soften as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“See you later?”

She smiled and nodded, and with one more warning glance at J.C., Weston turned and headed to his own table.

***

Weston’s French was rusty, but roughly translated, J.C. had said, “
With the loss of one person, the whole world can feel empty”
as he winked at Molly. It had been on the tip of Weston’s tongue to tell J.C. to fuck off and find another girl, but at the last minute Weston realized he had no claim to Molly. He liked her very much. He hated the fact that he had to leave her with a smooth-talking Frenchman while he fulfilled his filial duties at a table across the room from her. And he’d likely be on edge until her hand was safely laced with his again. But, laying claim to her? Weston had no right, and for whatever indecipherable reason, it frustrated him.

Damn J.C. Rousseau to hell and back! Why had Daisy sat Molly beside him anyway?
Wasn’t there any room at his grandmother’s table, for God’s sake?

Weston stalked angrily to the table where Barrett and Emily, Fitz and Daisy, Alex and Jessica, Stratton and Valeria, and his cousin, Kate, waited for him. Taking a seat between Kate and Alex, he was further frustrated to discover that his back was to Molly’s table and huffed softly as he sat down.

“Well, hello, sunshine,” said Kate, nudging him with her elbow.

“Hey, Kate,” Weston mumbled, picking up his pre-set Champagne flute and downing it.

“Someone’s having a great time, huh?”

Weston sighed deeply, looking up to his brothers and their significant others all staring at him. When he saw the worry in Daisy’s eyes from across the table, he forced himself to smile warmly at her before turning to Kate.

“Yep, I am, cuz. Thanks for noticing. I’m having a great time.”

“I don’t miss anything. I’m a litigator.”

“Bottom feeder,” he teased.

“Just wait ‘til you pass the bar, little one. Words like that will be akin to cannibalism.” Kate grinned at Weston, grabbed a bottle of white wine from the middle of the table and poured him a full glass. “That should help.”

Weston shrugged, feeling fairly certain that it would take more than a glass of wine to “help.” Now, a glass of wine thrown in J.C.’s face?
That
might
help.

“Daisy’s awfully sweet,” Kate whispered into his ear as conversations resumed around the table. “But she doesn’t know you like I do. Spill it. What’s going on?”

“You know the Rousseau’s at all, Kate?”

He was surprised to see her wince lightly before answering. “A little.”

“What do you want to know about the Rousseau’s?” asked Alex from Weston’s other side, flicking a concerned glance at Kate before leveling his eyes on Weston.

“Butt in much?” asked Weston belligerently.

Alex shook his head and Weston noted that his lip was puffy with a touch of dried blood near the spot where it had split.

“You’re such a brat tonight,” said Alex.

“Yeah? Well, you’re a pain in the ass every night.”

“Who is? Alex?” asked Barrett, leaning over Kate to join the conversation.

“Wes wants to know what we think of the Rousseau’s.”

From across the table, Stratton’s head snapped up from canoodling with Valeria. “We think they’re assholes.”

Alex chuckled and lifted his glass to toast Stratton.

“Jax and Mad aren’t all bad,” said Kate, lifting her chin. “I’ve always liked them.”

“I’m not talking about Jax and Mad,” clarified Weston. “Or Ten. Everyone
knows
he’s a dick.”

Stratton’s eyes narrowed as he nodded emphatically, but when Valeria leaned up and kissed his cheek, his whole expression changed on a dime and he beamed down at her with wonder and tenderness.

“Étienne’s the worst of the bunch,” agreed Alex, throwing back a hefty sip of scotch and winking at Kate.

Weston wasn’t sure what was going on between Alex and Kate, but now wasn’t the time to find out. J.C. Rousseau was Barrett’s age, which meant that Barrett probably knew him best. He leaned over Kate a little. “Barrett, what’s J.C. like?”

“Solid businessman. Good with figures. Brokers international deals between—”

“Sweetheart,” said Barrett’s fiancée, Emily, gently. “That’s not what Wes is asking.”

“What’s he asking?”

Emily’s eyes widened and she licked her lips.

“Oh,” said Barrett, his whole body shifting closer to Emily. “Oh.”

“Barrett?” said Weston. “I’m over here.”

Barrett turned back to Weston, but his eyes were darker and Weston noticed his hand snake out and grab Emily’s, pulling it possessively into his lap.

“What’s he like with women? Charming. Smooth. He dated Hope for a while before Alex did. But, I don’t hear bad things about him. He’s certainly no Étienne…”

Kate cleared her throat, and stood up, excusing herself to go to the bathroom, which meant that Weston could lean over her seat to talk to Barrett.

“…but he’s no choirboy either,” finished Barrett.

“Speaking of the Rousseau’s,” said Jessica, “did you hear that Étienne Rousseau was in an accident last night?”

Fitz, who sat beside her, nodded. “I did. I heard it was pretty bad, but I don’t know any details.”

Jessica grimaced, running her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “I don’t want to spread gossip, but Brooks told me the police found his car wrapped around a tree and Ten was completely unconscious.”

“Jesus,” exclaimed Stratton, shaking his head and looking down at the table.

“That’s terrible,” offered Emily.

Jessica nodded, and they all settled into a maudlin silence, contemplating Étienne Rousseau, who wasn’t a good person, but didn’t deserve life-altering injuries.

“Wow. Moody bunch. What’d I miss?” asked Kate, returning to the table.

“Nothing,” said Alex quickly.

“Absolutely nothing,” added Stratton on top of Alex.

“Hey, Wes,” asked Daisy, looking eager to change the subject. “What do you think of Molly?”

“Mol-ly!” said Kate in that teasing, singsong voice that girls always used when talking about potential love interests for their brothers or male cousins.

“Ohhhh,” said Alex. “Molly? Is that her name? Is that who I have to thank for this?” He pointed to his lip, giving Weston a sour look.

“I’ll make it better, baby,” said Jessica, palming Alex’s face and kissing him gently.

Weston rolled his eyes. “Can you two get a room? I’m sure Alex’s is free. And hey! In about ten minutes, I’ll come knocking on the door to interrupt you two for more pictures. How about it?”

“We’d be done by then,” said Alex in a low, throaty voice, before kissing his fiancée again.

Because Alex and Jess were dissolving into a full-blown make-out session, Weston looked up at his new sister-in-law. “She’s great, Daisy.”

“I know.”

“How did you two meet?”

“We’re in a drama club together in Bryn Mawr, near where she lives. Neither of us was cast this season so we split the job of stage manager. I’ve spent a lot of time with her in the dark,” said Daisy, chuckling, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “She’s better than great. She’s terrific, Wes.”

Weston quickly processed the thought that he wouldn’t mind spending a lot of time in the dark with her too, then shifted uncomfortably in his chair as his body heated up at the thought. When he finally looked back up at Daisy, she was staring at him meaningfully and he easily read the message in her eyes:
Molly deserves better than the jerk who just dumped her
. He nodded at her. He couldn’t agree more.

“Well, dating Molly, whoever she is, has got to be better than dating an Atwell sister,” said Stratton bluntly, while Barrett and Alex muttered “Amen, brother” in unison.

“Sorry things didn’t work out with Connie,” said Fitz, realizing that someone should offer condolences.

Weston shrugged, picking up his fork as the servers finished delivering the salad course. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Thank God,” murmured Alex, sighing with relief.