No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series) (15 page)

They’d been best friends a long time. Drake
picked up the wrench and tried to read the web page again. He
wasn’t sure if his kitchen faucet had a ball, ceramic disk or a
cartridge, whatever the hell any of that meant. Trying to ignore
the webpage ad for plumbers in his area, he focused again on the
web page.

He’d thought about calling Aaron or even Levi
to share his indignation after Molly walked out. Drawing in a long
breath now, he acknowledged to himself that he hadn’t wanted to
tell anyone. His relationship with Molly seemed…private and
personal. Too personal to even tell his best guy friends.

Turning again to the dripping faucet, Drake
remembered his toilet repair experience with Molly. He scratched
his chin, reflecting on how hot she’d looked when he’d sprayed her
down with that damned tube. Nipples pebbled up against the chilly
water, he’d had a hard time even then, recognizing that she was one
hot number.

Not that she wanted anything else to do with
him, at this point.

Drake forced himself to read the how-to page
in front of him. Right. He needed to turn off the water. Bending to
peer under the sink, he thought about his track record with
relationships. He’d dated a few women seriously, but nothing had
ever seemed to last.

Nothing but he and Molly…until they’d had
sex.

Reaching under the sink, he turned the water
off, as she’d taught him, and straightened to again study the web
page. Hell, he was up for an award for just this sort of thing and
here he was—liar—fumbling to fix his own faucet.

Looking again at the faucet type options on
the web page, he tried to concentrate.

Hell, he’d been all gaga for her in high
school and she’d broken his heart. Going there again didn’t seem
smart, but he apparently didn’t have an option.

Okay, this was probably a compression-type
faucet. He again studied the plumbing atop the sink before leaning
forward to stick a screw driver under the cap. The directions were
to pop it off to uncover a screw. Trying to ignore a flash of
longing to have his friend laughing beside him as he tried to
figure this out, Drake pried off the cap on the sink handle.

Success. At least, to that point.

Using the screwdriver, he acknowledged to
himself that if it weren’t for Molly’s tutoring, he’d have never
had a chance at fixing the damned drip. Of course, he still might
have to call a professional, but he felt a grim determination to at
least try to make the repair.

He’d kissed Molly that day and then again in
the garden and his guy parts had seemed to take over. Like when
he’d been an inexperienced, randy, clueless kid.

She’d rocked his world back then…and then
walked away for some dumb jock. Drake hadn’t eaten for several days
after that. And he’d been a kid. His recovery time had been better.
Now, he didn’t know what the hell he’d do if he let himself love
her and she left him.

At least, when they were just friends, he
still had Molly in his life.

Hell, he was still all mixed up about his
job. Still not sure he should keep doing this—and he’d gone and
messed things up with Molly. Like he needed everything to fall on
him at once.

Of course, he’d wanted to screw her. What guy
wouldn’t want to have sex with a woman as beautiful as Molly?
Particularly when she kissed him with all that heat and stuck her
tongue down his throat as she was sticking her hands down his
pants….

God. Drake put down the wrench.

He needed to call Preslee. Maybe some
straightforward, nothing-but-sex sex would help put some of this
straight. Clear his head.

Even though he hadn’t seen her for a while,
Drake picked up his phone and decided he needed to make a booty
call. If that was all Molly had been to him, maybe he needed to go
back to his other outlet.

If he had a lot of sex with Preslee, he
wouldn’t have these urges with Molly. Maybe that way, he could
start thinking of her as his friend again.

Of course, she might not want to be his
friend now.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to be his
friend, even though he kept thinking about kissing her.

* * *

That evening, Drake sat at a table to the
left of the bar hunched over his third--or was it fifth—drink. "I
don't know what Molly wants from me. She made it pretty clear
back when we were kids that she’d moved on. She started dating
other guys. We were good friends after that, though. I thought we
had a good time."

He looked across the table at the blonde
Preslee, all cute in her snug sweater. Having called her on impulse
last night, he studied the woman now. Hot and perky at the same
time, she had a healthy attitude about sex. If you liked the looks
of the other person and agreed to share an hour giving one another
pleasure, great.

Returning his gloomy gaze to his drink, he
acknowledged that the situation with Molly wasn’t that simple.
After being friends all these years, she’d said she loved him…, but
she hadn’t said anything before. The last time they dated,
she’d
ended things. She hadn’t acted like she wanted
anything different.

Okay. Yes. They’d had sex—really, really
great sex—and he’d certainly been interested in that since they
kissed…. Damn, that had been a great kiss. And
pow,
out of
nowhere, all his attraction to her had come back.

He’d squelched his desire for her after she
moved on and Molly had become a friend…his best friend. And now, he
wasn’t sure what the hell was happening between them. Maybe they
weren’t friends anymore.

Drake didn’t want that. Despite her having
said she wouldn’t supply him anymore with projects for the blog—and
her having blackmailed him into learning home improvement stuff he
had no interest in—he didn’t want her out of his life.

That was the bitch of it. He couldn’t hate
her. Didn’t even not like her—and he wanted to have sex with her
again real soon.

Across the table from him, Preslee stirred
her drink. "So you guys ended up getting it on and now everything's
complicated?"

"Bingo." Drake felt the corners of
his mouth turn down. "Screwed like bunnies."

He then gave a bitter laughed at the
irony of the expression.

He probably shouldn’t even be talking about
this with the woman sitting across from him, but the alcohol that
was running through his body made him feel reckless and talkative.
Hell, this was all he could think about anyway.

"And you were friends before this?" The
blonde stirred the drink in front of her.

"Yes." He brooded for a moment. "Best
friends. Always there for one another. Hung out a lot. She saved my
butt with the blog. Until she wouldn’t help anymore. Actually
blackmailed me into learning all this home improvement crap."

"Oh. Bummer." Preslee raised her blue gaze to
his. "So, wanna come back to my place and get nasty? Take your
mind off things?"

In the middle of taking a drink,
Drake sat the glass on the table with force. "Now that--that's
what I'm talking about. Why can't she just enjoy what we have?
Why is she changing the rules—again? I can’t keep up! We’ve had the
best friendship. We have fun, tease each other. Now—now, we’ve had
sex—really, really great sex, too."

Preslee fiddled with the earring in one ear.
"She wants to get married, huh? That’s what most women want."

"No. It’s not even that I’m against that." He
shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe that’s what she wants. We
didn't get that far."

"She didn't say?"

Staring into his drink again, Drake said,
"No. She just said she loved me. That was all. I was so blown away.
I mean, the last time we tried dating, it didn’t end well for me.
If you know what I mean."

"Just because she said she loved you, it
doesn't have to mean marriage." His date peered at him across the
table. "Are you anti-marriage? Or just anti her?"

"Neither." The word felt thick on his tongue.
"Neither one. I'll get married someday. I’d like to do that. You
know, have a family and everything. And I’m definitely not
anti-Molly."

Preslee took in a breath and reached
down to fiddle with her shoe. "Me, too. Marriage someday, I
mean."

Various scenarios ran through his mind. He
missed that—just being with Molly. “She’d be a terrific mom.”

Continuing to nibble on her straw, Preslee
didn’t say anything.

Drake leaned forward, asking her, "You never
dumped a guy, did you? Left him with a hole in his chest that he
didn’t know how to fill?”

"Who remembers who dumped who?” She stared
vaguely over his head, seeming to try to recollect. “There have
been too many of them.”

The alcohol surrounding him with a gentle
glow of well-being, he squinted at her. “How'd you get such a
healthy attitude about this messing around thing?"

She crossed her legs. “I don't know. I guess
I just like sex. I’ve been told I have daddy issues. At least,
that's what this other guy—a psychology college guy I messed around
with when I was in school—that's what he said. I don't know.”

"He said that? That you have daddy
issues? Seems harsh."

"I know," she nodded. "Particularly since I'd
just gone down on him."

"What right does a couple of college courses
in psychology give him to label you?"

"Oh, he knows the subject. He wasn't
taking the classes," she corrected. "He taught them. As a matter of
fact, he was a professor of mine."

"Umm. Aren’t professors
not
supposed
to have sex with you? Isn't that a conflict at grading time?"

Preslee shrugged. "It didn't seem
to be a conflict for him. He gave me a B minus in the
class."

Drake said indignantly, "You have to be
kidding me!”

"No." She took another swallow from
her glass. "No. So, what are you going to do about this Molly
girl? I mean, you seem to have it bad for her.”

“I don’t,” he shot back. “Maybe. I don’t
know. I used to have it bad for her—years and years ago. Then she
dumped me and just wanted to be my friend. We’ve been friends all
this time.”

His feeling of well-being receded some. “Now,
she doesn’t even want that.”

Preslee lifted her thin eyebrows. “She said
she loved you. Remember?”

Leaning forward again, he rested his elbows
on the bar table. “We’ve done the friend thing for a long time now.
I…I want Molly in my life. What if the friend thing is all we can
do? I-I don’t think I can go back to not having sex with her, but
we tried dating and it didn’t work. I clearly wasn’t enough for
her.”

Looking bored, Preslee said, “If you’re not
interested in more than friendship, you probably shouldn’t have had
sex with her--”

“Made love,” he interrupted, putting up a
hand when Preslee made a face at him. “I’m just saying, it felt
like…more. Particularly this last time.”

He meditated on those moments with Molly
wrapped all around him, calling out his name.

“It’s one way or the other.” Presley met his
gaze. “Either you guys are friends and you just fucked her because
you had a hard on or you
made love
. It can’t be both, I
don’t think.”

He couldn’t deny she was right. Either Molly
was a great piece of tail or…he loved her. God, that was scary. The
problem was that loving her might be the path to heartbreak and
rejection. Again. And losing what they had….

* * *

“Hello.” Holding his aching head with one
hand and pressing the cell phone to his ear with the other, Drake
remembered all too clearly why drinking a lot wasn’t a good
idea.

It wasn’t that he’d downed a whole beer keg,
either. Just enough to have him waking with a helluva headache.

“Hey, buddy. You sound like crap. What have
you been up to?”

Levi sounded way too chipper for this time of
the morning.

“I’m sitting here at my kitchen table,
holding my aching head and wondering if dying isn’t better at this
point.” Drake didn’t see any reason to pretend with his friend.

“Whoa. Sounds like college. Did you and Molly
make up and then lick too much champagne from your naked
bodies?”

“No. That would have been more fun. I met
Preslee at a bar last night and spent the evening talking about
Molly.”

His friend snorted into the phone. “You
didn’t sleep with her? That’s telling.”

“Telling what? Don’t be subtle. I’m using all
my brain power to handle basic functions.”

“Isn’t Preslee the
call-me
babe? I
thought you, two, just had convenient sex occasionally.”

“We do.” Drake lifted the damp cloth off his
neck. “At least, we did. But we didn’t do more than talk last
night.”

“Ahhhh. Holly was right.”

“What? Right about what?” Drake took an
experimental sip of coffee, setting the paper cup down gently.

“When I told her about you and Molly, she
said you had it bad for her.”

“I don’t. At least, that doesn’t sound like
anything I’d want to admit to. Hell, I’m just trying to get my head
straight so I can write about fixing the damned faucet.”

“Okay, let’s talk plumbing,” Levi said
peaceably. “But before that, have you heard anything about the
jobs?”

“No.” Drake took the cloth off his neck. “Not
a damn thing.”

* * *

Drake fingered his phone. His hangover had
faded, but he still felt like crap. He didn’t know what to say to
Molly, but he damn well knew he needed to say something.

Dropping his phone on the desk beside his
laptop, he stared at the blank screen.

He was staring into the blog deadline and
this was the first segment he’d do completely without Molly. Having
successfully changed the washer and stopped the faucet drip felt
pretty good, but he missed her. Missed her ragging on him for not
knowing home improvement crap. Missed Molly’s voice.

Hell, he wanted to talk to her, but he just
didn’t know what to say. He needed to talk to her, even if that
meant she never talked to him after that.