A Proposal For The Officer. Christy Jeffries
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or are you the one who plays video games for a living?”
Despite being on the cover of Forbes last month for their feature article on “World’s Youngest Billionaires,” Kaleb’s siblings never let him forget that no matter how much money he made, he would always be the little brother. So when Molly said “video games” in that tone, she might as well have been asking if he was the one who set fire to small wildlife animals in his parents’ basement. At least his back brace and teenage acne were long gone. Along with his self-respect apparently.
“Video games?” Hunter snorted. “Kaleb’s, like, the most successful software developer in the world.”
Oblivious to the tension in the front seat, the boy launched into a monologue about the company’s top-selling games while Molly’s eyes shot icy glares at Kaleb and her forefinger made a dramatic swipe against her throat. It took him a moment to figure out that she was referring to him staying silent about what had happened at the store, not his job profession. Or maybe she didn’t want him to bring up either subject. All he knew was that he liked her soft pink lips a lot more when they weren’t pursed together in a violent shushing gesture. Actually, he kind of liked them both ways.
He mouthed the words, “What’s the big deal?”
But the minivan behind him honked to let him know the light had changed to green, and he didn’t get a chance to lip-read Molly’s response.
So she had diabetes. What was the big deal? Millions of people probably had the same diagnosis and didn’t go into undercover stealth mode to keep it a secret. He needed to know why.
“Dude, all of your electronic devices are, like, going crazy.” Hunter was apparently done with his rambling soliloquy about Perfect Game Industries, although it did give Kaleb’s ego a boost to know that at least one person in the town of Sugar Falls—besides his mother—didn’t think his company was a fallback career. “Are you gonna answer them?”
Kaleb glanced at the display. Speaking of his mother, his family was certainly busting out the big guns if Lacey Chatterson was trying to track him down. Everyone knew he never avoided his mom’s calls. If he didn’t respond soon, he’d get a firsthand look at how this little ski resort town up in the mountains ran a full-scale search party.
“I’ll call them back later,” he said, slipping his cell phone into his front pocket. “Let’s help your aunt take these groceries inside.”
Falling completely off the grid and being the irresponsible Chatterson might be fun for a change.
When Molly had initially been medically grounded, she’d still been living on base so the daily routine of military life made it easy to pretend that nothing would change. Just like the time she’d twisted her ankle after a postejection survival training exercise, she pulled office duty—pushing paperwork and keeping her personal life classified. There was no point in getting her family and squad mates all worried about something that would probably require a simple fix. She hadn’t even told her fiancé about her diagnosis. Although, in her defense, she’d been about to when she walked into Trevor’s condo with a bag of Chinese takeout from his favorite restaurant and found him eating pork dumplings from the ends of another woman’s chopsticks.
Canceling vendors, returning wedding gifts and watching her savings account free-fall with all the forfeited deposits was only slightly more pleasant than undergoing a battery of doctor appointments and lab tests. In a last-ditch attempt to get away from it all, Molly had cashed in on Trevor’s trip insurance and went solo on the honeymoon that never was. Unfortunately, besides a great suntan and a somewhat functional straw tote from a street market in Fiji, Molly’s head wasn’t any clearer than it had been two weeks ago.
As she looked around at her sister’s apartment—which she’d been thinking of as her temporary duty station until she could figure out what she was going to do with her life—Molly felt as though she’d just overshot her landing and had to circle around and try it again. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, she was halfway curled into a ball on the oversize white sofa in the living room, watching her nephew and Kaleb put away groceries she didn’t remember selecting. What in the world was she going to do with all those cans of soup?
More important, what was she going to do with this guy who now knew her secret? She shuddered. Even thinking the word secret made her feel all dirty and cowardly, like she was hunkering down in some barren cave rather than Maxine’s plush renovated apartment in the heart of quaint, touristy Sugar Falls.
Kaleb’s face was so handsome the glasses almost looked fake. A few weeks ago, when she’d first experienced problems with dizziness, Molly had been looking at all the advertisement posters above the display cases at the ophthalmologist’s office while she waited for her vision tests to come back. This guy resembled the sexy models in the pictures, trying to convince the middle-aged patients with cataracts and receding hairlines that they, too, would look like some gorgeous stud if only they invested in the right spectacles.
His brown hair was a bit too long and too messy. His jeans were a bit too new and too expensive, despite the fact that they certainly fit his slim hips well. And when he’d stripped off his hooded sweatshirt and she’d seen him in his shirt, Molly let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. His dark blue T-shirt appeared to be made for him, the fabric so soft and well-worn she could see the ridges of his lean muscles under it.
All in all, he didn’t look like the owner of a multi-billion-dollar technology empire. Which was probably why she was so surprised to find out that he was related to her sister’s best friend. Not that the rest of the Chattersons were much different than this one, with the exception of most of them being redheads. And they were only millionaires, as opposed to billionaires.
“Can we order some pizza from Patrelli’s?” Hunter asked after digging around in the shopping bags and only coming up with food that would require a can opener to prepare.
She nodded and would’ve handed him her cell phone, but he’d already pulled out his own. “Get me a large meatball sub,” she said as he started dialing.
“Actually,” Kaleb interjected, “Molly is going to have the chicken Caesar salad. Dressing on the side.”
Hunter gave his idol a thumbs-up before speaking to a person on the other end of the line. Apparently, being a favorite aunt had just been trumped by the guy who invented some stupid video game called “Blockcraft.”
“But I wanted the meatball sub.” Molly crossed her arms across her chest, her voice sounding whinier than she’d intended.
“And do you also want your nephew to have to call 9-1-1 when you go into another one of your blood sugar attacks?” One of Kaleb’s brown eyebrows arched above his glasses.
Molly tried to arch her own brow in response to him, but only succeeded in looking like she had something stuck in her eye. Being tired was one thing, but she was beginning to feel completely useless.
“I’m gonna walk down the block to pick it up,” Hunter said, pulling on a sweatshirt. “I sure like our new house, but sometimes I really miss living in the middle of town like this.”
Kaleb handed the boy two twenty-dollar bills and her nephew was out the door before Molly could even protest. Or ask him not to leave her alone with the hunky tech guy who’d just saved her. Sort of.
“You didn’t have to buy dinner, too. I have money,” she said, looking around for her wallet. Actually, she didn’t know how much longer her military salary would last and she probably shouldn’t be wasting it on pizza—or dry salads, in this case.
“I think all of your cash went to the swear jar,” Kaleb said, his hands loosely tucked into his front pockets. He was probably eager to get away from her. Not that she could blame him. She’d been trying to get away from herself for quite a few weeks, as well.
His