Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(23)

Tall, muscular, wearing jeans that were sinfully molded to his body. He had a warm jacket that was open in the front, showing a hunter green shirt that stretched across his chest. His dark hair was almost military short, but not quite—as though it had been but was growing out. And his chocolate eyes were staring right at me.

I had never seen this man, but I knew. Every fiber of my being knew. “Brody?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The man smiled, his eyes never leaving my face. I tilted my head, waiting for his answer.

He jerked as though he just realized I had spoken to him.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “And you’re Molly.”

I stood, mesmerized but uncertain what to do. His eyes mirrored my emotions, but still, he opened his arms and said, “I’m so sorry.”

Dropping the feather duster to the floor, I rushed forward, slamming into him. Our arms encircled each other and he lifted me easily off the floor. Setting me down, he kept his hands on my shoulders, his fingers holding on tightly.

Looking down, he asked, “I’ve wanted to come for so long. But I was such an ass—”

Reaching up, I shushed him with my fingers over his mouth. My intent had been to silence him, but the feel of his lips underneath my fingers sent an electric jolt through my arm. “No, don’t say that,” I begged. “You were honest, but please know that I never meant to be dishonest.”

Brody’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled down. “I’d like to take you to lunch. When do you get off?”

“Now,” came the reply from Gus, who had appeared from the back of the store.

Jerking around, I saw the older man grinning, with Richie standing next to him. “We got this. Go. Enjoy!” Gus exclaimed, shooing me with his arms flapping in front of him.

Looking back up at Brody, I smiled shyly. “I guess I’m off now. Let me get my coat and purse.” Hurrying to the workroom, I returned, my arms full. Brody took my coat from me, holding it out so that I could slide my arms in. Escorting me down the sidewalk, he kept his hand on my back, guiding me to his truck.



(Brody)

I was unable to take my eyes off the vision next to me, entranced from the moment she popped around the corner of the bookshelf. Molly was more beautiful than her Facebook picture had shown. Her dark, curly hair was a rich chestnut color. Her stature was more petite and her curves more pronounced. Her heart shaped face held a pixie quality. And where my hand rested on her back, the warmth moved up my arm.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, when we got to my truck. “This looks new. And big!”

Chuckling, I opened the passenger door while explaining, “It was the first thing I bought when I got out.” My hands spanned her waist and I lifted her easily into the seat. Still grinning, I ordered, “Buckle up,” before closing the door and jogging around the front to my side.

Soon we were seated in a local restaurant known for their home-style country cooking. “I hope this is okay?” I asked, suddenly nervous about my non-fancy restaurant selection.

“It’s perfect,” Molly beamed, her fingers fiddling with the napkin. “So, um…did you move back to your parents’ farm?”

“I visited when I first got out, but that wasn’t where I wanted to live…”

My explanation died out and she continued to twist the napkin around in her fingers. “Oh…” she said, her nerves visible. Wincing, she looked down, biting her lip.

I reached over and placed my large hand on hers. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” she croaked, then blushed as she nodded and smiled. “Yes,” she admitted. “I guess I am.”

My fingers tightened slightly on hers drawing her gaze up to mine. “You can’t be more nervous than me,” I confessed. “I used to dream about this moment for months—how it would be when we would actually meet. And then I thought I fuc—, I mean, messed it up. So having you sitting here with me, not hating me, is a dream come true.”

She sat in silence, her gaze never leaving mine, so I continued.

“Molly, I reacted badly…without giving you a chance to explain. I’ve always been a private person. I’ve never opened up easily to others, but you? You were different. I found myself wanting to talk to you, share with you. I looked forward to our emails and began to look forward to meeting you. But then…I suppose every article I’d ever seen about prisoners scamming money from pen-pals hit me and all I could think of was that I was being taken for a ride.” I observed her wince, and hurried to add, “But that was wrong…I mean, you never asked for anything. All you ever did was give.”

Her gaze stayed on their hands, clasped on the tabletop. Swallowing deeply, she nodded. “For me…you were the special friend I could have. The one thing in my life that wasn’t tainted by where I was.”

I gently rubbed her hand with my rough thumb, hoping she would look back up at me but her eyes stayed downward. “Molly…please look at me,” I begged. As her gaze hesitantly lifted, I observed pain in her eyes. “I am so sorry,” I confessed once more.

Her lips slowly curved as she offered a small smile across the table toward me. Opening her hand, she allowed my fingers to link with hers.

“So what did you decide to do after getting out?” she asked, her smile warming my heart.