Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(49)

"Well look who finally made it home in one piece. Looks like you two got stuck out in the rain." My dad walks into the kitchen wearing jeans and a Ravens fleece, his big frame filling the entire doorway. He walks to the counter and, with is back to us, lifts the coffee carafe out of the coffee maker, gets a mug out of the cabinet, and proceeds to pour himself a cup while we stand there idly.

I take him in, trying to picture what Molly see's.

It's not uncommon for people to be intimidated by him - shit, even I am occasionally.

Finally, my dad turns and faces us, slowly stirring his drink before tapping the coffee mug with the spoon, and setting it in the sink. He eyes Molly critically - one eyebrow crooked - at the same time his giant hand reaches out for a shake. "Brian McGrath. You must be Molly. Can't say we've heard all that much about you." He says this nonchalantly and sips his coffee, watching us over the brim of the mug for our reaction.

What an ass.

"Brian!" My mom admonishes, her soft features flush and she turns a dark shade of pink as she re-enters the kitchen. "What he means is we're so glad to finally meet you. By chance, I noticed you at the last home game."

I want to say 'Yeah, everyone noticed because I couldn't stop myself from eye f*cking her from the ice' but I hold my tongue. Molly and I aren't touching, and I find myself wanting to reach for her hand. Not necessarily to protect her from my parents - well, mostly just my dad... my mom's being way cooler than I thought she would be - but to make it easier on her.

Molly's face flushes with a little blush of her own. "Oh, well. That wasn't my choice - I was coerced into going." She elbows me shyly in the ribs and my dad's steely gaze bores holes into her, like he can't believe she'd touch me in front of him.

My dad sets down the coffee mug and crosses his arms, leaning against the granite countertop. "And how does that work? Being coerced into going?"

What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?

So, I mine as well tell you this: my dad doesn't want me dating.

Ever.

It's like I mentioned before - he wants me to focus solely on hockey, which I've always done. An occasional lay on the side is fine, as long as it doesn't interfere with my game and he doesn't have to see or hear about it. You know what they say: If you don't see it, does it exist?

Having someone steady or an actual girlfriend?

Not on the list of priorities he's made for me.

So yeah. It's obvious that he's not pleased - and he's acting like someone's pissed in his Cheerios.

Suddenly, the gender roles are reversed and Molly has become the proverbial guy every dad dreads and waits for on their front porch while polishing their shotguns. Thankfully, my mom crosses the room and lays her hand on my dad's arm - I consider this his warning: Mom is the only person who can calm my dad the f*ck down.

"Would you kids like to sit? Let's go into the living room."

We follow my parents into the living room and much to my horror, Kendall is perched on the end of the couch with her giant, fat, tabby cat Jazzy in her lap and instead of tuning in to the television, she's watching us with a smirk on her face.

For an eleven year old, she's acting like a nosey teenager, and up until right this second it's never really bothered me. Except at this particular moment, she is bugging the living shit out of me.

And even her damn cat seems like a cocky little *.

My mom motions for us to sit on the couch - just to be on the safe side, I sit directly next to Kendall: I have a feeling she's going to be like a loose cannon and those lips aren't going to stay closed for very long. Eventually she's going to want to get her two cents in.

Wearily, I watch her from the corner of my eye as Dad sits directly across from us in his favorite leather chair. Leaning forward, he clasps his hands in front of him and props his elbow on his knees. I can hear him thinking from across the room.

My mom clears her throat and plasters her trademark optimistic smile on her face.

Could this be any more awkward?





Chapter Twenty-Four

MOLLY

"Awkward? That's an understatement..." - Molly



Can someone tell me again why I'm here?

Mr. McGrath, with his big brooding stare, is watching me from his seat - a big leather Lazy Boy recliner that looks like it has seen better days. I would even bet money that Weston's mom has tried to toss it to the curb a few times...

It looks like Mrs. McGrath - Laura - is about to say something, but Kendall interrupts.

"So Molly, what grade are you in? Are you a senior too?" She sits innocently watching me with big doe eyes, and her hand lazily strokes the orange cat that's sleeping on her lap.

"Yes, I'm a Senior too. How about you? What grade are you in Kendall?"

She perks up with importance. "I'm in middle school this year," she says flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Sixth grade. Did you have Mrs. Deerfield for any classes when you were my age?"

"You know, I think I did! She was one of my favorites," I smile shyly as Kendall nods her head enthusiastically.

"Her class is my favorite - but I have this kid Ben that sits behind me and he's always pulling my hair. Last week I finally told him if he didn't stop, my brother would jam a hockey stick so far up his ass he wouldn't walk for a week."