I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(66)

Julie gave a little happy sigh. “Mitchell’s scowls do make me hot.”

Riley waggled her eyebrows. “You know what makes me hot?”

“Everything,” Emma Sinclair said, joining the group. “Everything makes you hot. And hungry.”

“Speaking of which, Mollie,” Riley continued, “I’ve decided to hire that magical caterer you used so that he can make me those little mini quiches at all hours.”

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “You do remember that you just got married three months ago? To the love of your life?”

Mollie smiled into her wine. She liked Emma—she was cool, maybe a little bit haughty, but with a biting sense of humor that fit in perfectly with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, but Sam can’t cook,” Riley said, referring to her new husband.

“But he makes whisky for a living,” Emma countered. “Surely that’s better.”

Riley pursed her lips. “I’ll think on that one. I want the whisky and the mini quiches.”

“Yes, well, I want the Prada purse and the Louis Vuitton, and I can afford neither, so I’ll splurge on Coach,” Julie said. “You see how that works?”

“Not really. I can’t eat purses, Jules.”

Mollie smiled and took a sip of her wine. When she’d suggested the party to Jackson, she’d done it mostly to help him banish the whole solitude thing he’d had going on since moving to New York. Jackson wasn’t a chatty guy by any stretch of the imagination, but normally he wasn’t antisocial either. She knew that back in Houston there had always been dinner parties and game nights and galas. She’d wanted him to know that he could have that in New York too.

But there was an extra bonus to this party that Mollie hadn’t seen coming: she liked these people, a lot.

Cole and Penelope had been first to arrive. She’d been especially curious—and wary—of those two, since they’d be the ones conducting the actual interview, but after about thirty seconds in their company, she relaxed.

Penelope was a friendly, zero-filter tomboy who was equal parts sweet and hilarious. Her enthusiasm for all things sports had been rivaled only by Cole’s. Cole was a life-of-the-party type of guy whom Jackson seemed completely relaxed around.

Then the rest of the group had arrived, and it became abundantly clear that they were all good people.

She’d been particularly curious about Lincoln Mathis, her would-be date, and she wouldn’t have been fully a woman if she hadn’t admitted that her lady parts had given just the tiniest bit of a sigh at what they’d missed out on. The guy was gorgeous. Not only was he physical perfection, all dark hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders, but there was something almost heartbreakingly compelling about him: shadows in his eyes and secrets in his smile that had made her chest hurt, even as he’d been making her laugh.

And then there was the Stiletto crew.

Mollie had been intimidated at first. She loved Stiletto. Her job didn’t allow a lot of time for fun reading, but every time she took a plane, she treated herself to the latest issue of Stiletto from the airport newsstand. Knowing that she was expected to make conversation with the women who actually put content on those glossy pages had made her a bit tongue-tied.

And she’d been a bit jealous too. Not just of their looks, although the combination of perfectly fitting dresses, higher-than-high shoes, and shiny hair had been a little bit overwhelming. No, mostly she was jealous of their confidence. These women knew what they wanted and got what they wanted—and what they wanted were their men, each more good-looking than the last.

Still, her nervousness had lasted about thirty seconds before the newly married Riley had linked arms with Mollie and determined that she was going to join their group as Baby Spice. Which in turn had set off an argument over what the rest of their names would be, ending with Julie and Riley arguing fiercely for the spot of Crazy Spice, which seemed about right.

“So, Mollie, are you going to tell us what’s going on with you and the delicious quarterback?” Julie asked.

“Um—”

“Penelope and Grace will kill you if you don’t wait for them,” Emma said with a nod in the direction of the two women who were chatting with their significant others on the other side of the room.

“Eh, so she can tell it twice,” Riley said, waving her hand.

“I don’t even know what to tell,” Mollie admitted.

“Start with the basics,” Riley said. “He didn’t really sleep with all those women, right?”

“Riley!” Emma and Julie spoke in unison, looking appalled.

“What? You know Penelope’s going to ask it!”

“Yeah, for her job. But you can’t come into someone’s house and start—”

“He didn’t sleep with all those women,” Mollie interrupted.

They all looked at her, and she put a hand over her mouth to cover a laugh. “Wow, it feels good to say that out loud.”

Emma gave her a sympathetic smile. “I bet. As much as we’d all like to say that other people’s opinions don’t matter, it can’t be easy to watch false rumors swirl around someone you care about.”

“Well, that’s not even the worst part,” Mollie said glumly. “The worst part is that I believed the rumors. Didn’t even question them, and…” She bit her lip. “I think I hurt him. He’d never say so, but…”