Her mother lifted up her arm. "Plus, a shorter arm cast, without all the bells and whistles. I feel so much freer now."
"I know Mom. This is great progress. But you're going to have to be a little more patient, and wait for your physical therapy appointment tomorrow so they can work with you and show you how to manage these new casts."
Her mom waved her off, then lost her balance a little and grabbed Molly's arm for support.
"Careful, Mom."
After about five minutes of very slow ambling, her mother took her spot on the sofa.
"That was shockingly exhausting," her mom said.
"You've been on your butt for six weeks, Mom. It's no surprise you're so weak."
Her mother huffed out a sigh. "I thought I'd be dancing by the end of the day."
Molly grasped her hand. "Knowing you, it won't take much time at all. As long as you don't try to push harder than your body allows."
"I suppose. But I'm so tired of being stuck in the house. This has been frustrating."
"I know it has, Mom. But look at you. Six weeks out from a major injury, and you're already in a walking cast for your leg, and a regular cast for your arm. That's progress, and you have to look at it as being halfway to being completely out of those casts."
"You're right. Of course, you're right. I just want life to get back to the way it was before."
"It will. I'll bet your therapist will be so excited to work with you tomorrow."
"She'll torture me. She loves torturing me."
Molly laughed. "You love every minute of it, too. You enjoy the challenge."
"What I'm going to enjoy is getting out of this house."
A week later, her mother was beside herself with excitement. She'd had daily therapy visits, and was getting around on her own with her walking cast. The therapist had been working on her core balance, plus they were doing work with her arm as well.
It had been grueling. Molly had gone with her mother to her appointments.
Her mom was such a fighter. She knew it was going to get worse before it got better, especially after the casts came off. She had every confidence her mother would completely recover from her injuries, because Georgia Burnett would accept no less.
Her dad was almost as excited as her mom when he came home that day and saw her moving around the house on her own, noting her progress after a week under her new physical therapy regimen. They were going to celebrate with a pot roast Molly had prepared for dinner. Mom had even helped, insisting on slicing carrots at the counter. She'd called it part of her therapy, and though she'd been a little slow at it, she'd done a great job.
But Carter texted her saying the new cabinets had come in for the bathroom, as well as the wall tiles. He was going to do some installation after work. He asked if she wanted to come over to see it.
"Of course you should go," her mother said. "You've already taken me to the therapist today and cooked dinner. You've spent every day with me for the past week. Go enjoy time with your boyfriend."
Molly was about to object that Carter was definitely not her boyfriend, but her mother waved her hand in dismissal.
"Go. Spend some time with Carter."
Anxious to get out of the house and not wanting to argue relationship status with her mom, she texted Carter that she'd be over shortly.
She changed clothes, then drove over to Carter's house. His garage door was open, so she went through that way and knocked on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again, but still no answer, so she tried the knob. The inside door was unlocked. Since Carter was expecting her, she stepped inside.
The sound of hard rock music smacked her ears. No wonder he couldn't hear her. The light in the bathroom was on, so she headed in that direction and found Carter. The shell of the vanity was already in. "That dark wood is going to look so good with the tile we laid on the floor the other day."
With the pale beige tiles and the dark brown cabinets, plus the cream color on the walls, the room was starting to take shape.
He looked up and smiled at her. "Thanks again for helping out with that. And for coming with me to pick out all this stuff."
"Are you kidding? I had fun spending your money."
"Now you sound like a girlfriend. Or a wife."
"Bite your tongue. Would you like something to drink?"
"How about iced tea? I made a fresh pitcher after work."
"Okay."
She slipped off her jacket, then went into the kitchen and fixed them each a glass of tea.
When she handed Carter his drink, he took a couple of deep swallows. "Thanks."
"What do you need me to do?"
He handed her a drill. "Will you screw in these brackets so we can start putting the drawers in?"
She loved that he didn't question her ability to use power tools, though she was glad no saws were involved. In short order, they had the drawers placed.
"We need to finish up the tile work on this wall," he said, pointing to the area above where the tub would go. "Painting's already done, and they're going to deliver the countertop tomorrow and put the sinks in."
It was almost finished. "I'm so surprised how quickly it's all come together."
"Bathrooms don't generally take too long once you have the demo portion complete. You and Luke really helped a lot."
"I can't wait to see it all."
They worked for a few hours on the tile, and took a break while Carter ordered pizza, since he hadn't eaten yet. Molly filled Carter in on her mother's therapy visit earlier in the day and her revised cast situation.
"Your mom's a superstar. I'm not at all surprised she's doing so well. Knowing Georgia, she'll break records in her recovery."
"I figure she'll cut the estimated twelve weeks down to eight."
He laughed, and bit into a slice of pizza. "You're probably right. Speaking of, when do you think you'll be ready to start work?"
She thought about it. "I don't know. She's doing very well, but I'd like to hover over her a few more days to make sure she feels confident enough to hang out by herself. Maybe next week?"
"I don't want to push you. You're here to be with your mom, so you just let me know when you're ready. And when she's ready."
"Okay." She studied him as he ate. "And why? Are you having a paperwork emergency?"
"Not any more than usual."
"I'm looking forward to digging in and seeing what you've got."
He leaned back in his chair and slanted a sexy look her way. "I'm pretty sure you've already seen what I've got."
"Indeed I have." And it had been awhile since she'd seen it. Touched him, felt him, been with him. She'd been wrapped up with her mom, and Carter with work. Though she'd been able to dash over to help him with the bathroom project, during those occasions Luke and Emma had been over as well, which meant no alone time, and they'd worked late into the night. It had been exhausting work, and she'd wanted to be there for her mom, so she hadn't stayed.
Tonight, though, she had an action plan, and that meant time for her and Carter.
He'd finished his pizza, so she pushed back from the chair in the dining area and came over to him, straddling his lap.
He grasped her hips. "Is this dessert?"
"This is definitely dessert."
She slid her fingers into his hair, loving the thick softness of it, so different from everywhere else on him, which was so incredibly hard. She spread her thumb over his bottom lip, then bent and kissed him, taking in his rush of breath as an exhilarating aphrodisiac, an instant turn-on that sent a thrill of expectation through her. Her entire body tingled with awareness when he swept his hands under her shirt to explore the skin of her back.
Suddenly, her bra was undone, and her nipples tightened in anticipation. She straightened and pulled off her shirt, removing her bra, needing Carter's hands on her. A rush of desperate need coursed through her, a frantic desire that had to be satisfied right now.
She felt his erect
ion pressing ever insistently against her sex, and she surged against him. His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes half lidded, a storm raging in them.
He cupped her butt and stood, lifting her. She thought he'd carry her down the hall to the bedroom, but he pushed the plates and pizza box to the far end of the table and set her on it.
She smiled at him as he popped open the button of her jeans. She kicked off her tennis shoes and helped him as he pulled her jeans down her legs while he unzipped his. He pulled a condom out of his pocket.
"Ever ready, are you?" she asked.
"Around you? Hell yes."
She liked knowing he was as anxious as she was. It reminded her so much of those frantic, teenage years when they couldn't wait to get at each other. Her heart pounded against her chest as he pulled her panties aside and entered her, his body looming over hers as he thrust, his hand sweeping under her to cushion her butt.
"I'm not fragile, Carter," she said, holding on to his arms. "I won't break."
She felt he was holding back, that he wasn't giving her all the pent-up passion he felt for her. She wanted all of it, and when he unleashed it, taking her mouth in a kiss filled with naked desire and fury, then pushed her back against the table, she took it all in, and gave it back in equal measure. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arched against him, then stretched fully out on her back.
She lifted his shirt, raking her nails across his back as the two of them melded together until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. This was what she'd craved, this lightning storm of pleasure and pain and need. She cried out as she came, and he groaned as he let go, both of them shuddering, holding on to each other as the storm held them in its fury.
When it passed, Molly still trembled, and Carter stroked her side, his body wet with perspiration.
They were stuck to each other, stem to stern.
"I need a shower," she said.
He lifted, smiling down at her. "I think you're just using me so you can spend time in my shower."
She laughed, and he pulled her up. She hopped off the table. "Maybe."
After a quick shower, Molly cleaned the remnants of dinner--and sex--from the table, threw away the trash, and when Carter emerged from the shower, they took a final look at the bathroom remodel.
"I can't wait to see the counter and sinks in there."
"It'll be even better when there's a toilet, but that'll go in last."
"Then you'll have another room finished. Before long, you won't have any rooms to work on."
"There are still three more bedrooms to knock out. But that's just floors and paint, maybe expanding closet space, and choosing furniture. Nothing too major."
She patted his arm. "It's good to have a project."
He walked down the hall with her and into the kitchen, where they refilled their glasses. "I'm also thinking of building a second garage so I can have a project area."
"A project area for what?"
"Rebuilding old cars. There's a '68 Camaro I'm eyeing that I might want to refurbish. But since I house Rhonda in my current garage, I need some additional space."
"I see. You have plenty of room on the side of the garage to build a third garage space."
"That's what I was thinking."
"In your spare time, of course."
He took a sip of his tea, then smiled at her over the rim of his glass. "Of course."
They ended up snuggled up on the sofa watching an action movie, wrapped under a fleece blanket. It was an okay movie, but her mind drifted, thinking about this house, the way Carter had bought it, bare bones, and completely overhauled it. And even though he was almost finished, he was still coming up with new ideas.
It was a lot like the jobs she did. She'd come into a place, look at the bare bones, and find ways to improve things.
She liked that he was always thinking ahead, of the next step, the next project. He kept busy, didn't just sit around doing nothing but drinking beer and being lazy. Carter definitely wasn't a lazy guy. She admired that about him.
Of course, even back when they were teenagers, he'd had a lot of dreams, had plans for the future. They'd been different plans back then, and his present hadn't quite matched up with what they'd talked about in the past.
But whose life ever did? Hers sure hadn't.
Then again, look at them now, cuddling together on the sofa, much like what they'd used to do when they were younger.
She never thought this would happen again, that she'd feel so comfortable with Carter, or that she and Carter would ever--
So maybe things hadn't changed as much as she thought.
She pushed the blanket off. "I should go."
He gave her a confused look. "You don't want to stay tonight?"
She grabbed her tennis shoes. "I don't think so. I have to be there for Mom in the morning. You know, just in case she's unsteady."
Carter ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, right. Sure."
She grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door. "I'll talk to you later."
"Molly."
She turned, and he pulled her into his arms, giving her a deep, lasting kiss that only added to her confusion.
"I'll talk to you later, okay?"
She nodded. "Okay. Good night."
She was out the door in a hurry, without once looking behind her.
Her heart pounded the entire way home.
Chapter 26
IT WAS THANKSGIVING week, and Molly had a million things to do. She had sat with Mom going over the menu and been to the grocery store.
Molly and Emma had already decided it was going to take an act of Congress to keep their mother out of the kitchen, especially since everyone was going to come over to their parents' house for Thanksgiving this year. Emma offered to host at her and Luke's place, but having Mom travel too much wasn't a good idea. Plus, if she got tired, it was easier for her to just go to her room so she could rest.
Molly had been invited to Carter's parents' house as well, but there was no way she could juggle it all, which was too bad. She'd always liked Amanda and Robert Richards. They were great people, and she'd spent a lot of time at their house when she'd been dating Carter.
In fact, one of these days she had to stop by and say hello to them again.
Just not this week.
"Are you sure we can't just go to Megan's bakery and buy some pies?"
Her mother gave her a look of horror. "One does not buy pies to serve during Thanksgiving, Molly. One makes them."
"Why not? I buy them all the time. Megan makes great pie."
"Yes, she does. And she'll sell a lot of them this week to people who don't cook. But we can cook."
Molly pored over the list of to-dos. "We can do a lot of things. And you will not be making your homemade crust this week."
As her mother opened her mouth to object, Molly waved her pen in her mom's direction. "No. Too much work, too hard on your arm. No homemade crust. I've already bought ready-made crust. It's in the freezer, and your pies will still be awesome. Emma and I will see to that."
Her mother looked crushed, which made Molly's stomach tighten, but she refused to yield.
"I'm not an invalid, you know."
"No, you're not. But this year, there won't be homemade crust on your pies. And you know what? I'll bet they still taste amazing."
Some of the items had to be made early--like six pies--since her mother had to invite practically the entire town of Hope to Thanksgiving dinner, which was why Molly had to buy a twenty-six-pound turkey, plus a huge ham. They made a pumpkin pie and pecan pie, and tomorrow they'd make several more. Her mother suggested they also make cookies.
"How do you do this?" Molly asked later in the day while her mother sat drinking some hot tea and Molly did dishes.
"Do what?"
"Work a full-time job, and make all this food? You do this every Thanksgiving?"
"I do a little bit every night after work. Your father is very helpful."
&nbs
p; Molly shook her head. "You're like Wonder Woman, Mom."
Her mother beamed. "Well, thank you, honey. I just enjoy staying busy."
"Now you sound like Carter."
"Really? How's that?"
"He works a full-time job. He's renovated practically every room in his new house. He works on his cars."
Her mom took a sip of tea, then set the cup down. "He's motivated to stay busy. And he isn't out carousing every night."
Carousing. Molly smiled at the word as she finished scrubbing a pot and put it in the dish rack. "I guess so."
"So what's bothering you about him?"
She grabbed the dish towel to dry her hands, then turned around and leaned against the sink. "Nothing bothers me."
"The two of you have restarted your romance since you've been back home."
"Not really. We're just spending time together. There's no romance going on."
Her mother gave her that look, the one she used to give her when she knew Molly had been lying about something. "I think we can be honest with each other, Molly. I've given you a wide berth all these years when you refused to come home, when you left so suddenly. I've always let you and Emma decide your own fates."
"I appreciate that, Mom."
"But you and Carter--you two were so much in love--so seemingly destined for a future together. And then you suddenly broke up and decided you had to go on this grand adventure without him, and you changed your entire life's direction. I didn't understand it then, and I still don't."
She shrugged. "I just . . . changed my mind, Mom. I was under so much pressure at the time, and I made a choice about what I wanted to do with my life. As far as Carter, well that was a high school romance and it just didn't work out, so we broke up. It really wasn't a Romeo and Juliet kind of tragedy, you know."
Her mother gave her that look again. "He's a good guy, Molly."
She so didn't want to have this conversation with her mother, but saw no way out of it at the moment. She kept her head down, focusing on the extensive list she'd started to make. "Yes. He's a good guy."
"Do you want to tell me what happened? Your breakup was so abrupt."
She shrugged. "We just realized we wanted different things. I wanted to travel, and he wanted to go to college."
"You wanted to go to college, too. So what changed?"
Everything. "I don't know, Mom. Like I said, I changed my mind--my direction."
"I'm not stupid, Molly."
Her head shot up. "Of course you're not."