The Choices I've Made (By the Bay #1)

Chapter Five: Jake

"So, I'll admit, walking around the inn in my boxers probably wasn't the brightest idea I've had," I said to Molly as I carefully carried her into the sitting room.

That had been a feat in its own right, considering how much effort it had taken to talk her into letting me pick her up.

"No," she'd said firmly.

"Well, I guess I'll just leave you on the steps."

"Fine." She'd pouted.

Until I'd begun to walk away, and she'd realized her predicament.

It wasn't exactly a cakewalk for me either. Feeling her smooth skin beneath my fingers as her arm wrapped around my neck—a feeling I'd never forgotten.

Every molecule in my body was on fire.

But she wasn't mine.

The slim gold engagement ring on her left hand made that crystal clear.

I set her down on the sofa that I had occupied only a night before, drunk off my ass, as I begged her to take me in.

Not my finest hour.

"Put your foot up on these," I instructed, grabbing several throw pillows and neatly stacking them on the coffee table.

She did as instructed, her eyes never wavering from me.

"Your mama always said you'd suffer the consequences of those stairs for all the years you flew down them."

Her arms wrapped around her middle. "Shut up."

"I could always call her," I suggested. "Maybe she'll be able to help you with this ankle. I mean, what do I know? It's a wonder I even made it through medical school."

"Don't you dare, Jake Morgan Jameson. God, I hate you," she muttered.

"Don't call me by my middle name," I fired back. "And, no, you don't. Otherwise, you would have slammed that door in my face rather than letting me stay."

Her eyes rolled—something I'd nearly memorized after the number of times I'd seen it. "Not like you gave me much of a choice."

My eyes met hers. "There's always a choice, Molly. Always."

"Look, could you just focus on my foot, so I can get going? Some of us actually have things to do."

I grinned, loving the sass she was sending my way.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, trying to keep from chuckling.

Kneeling next to the coffee table, I took a closer look, spotting some swelling already beginning to form around her anklebone. Slight bruising could be seen as well.

"Can you move it?" I asked as my fingers inspected the structure, checking for any possible breaks.

"No, not well," she admitted.

"I don't think it's broken," I said, "but I can't be sure without an X-ray. I know someone who might be able to arrange that for you."

"Are you serious?" she said. "Is this some kind of joke to you, Jake? This is my business. I have a list a mile long for today, people who depend on me."

Anger boiled to the surface. "What do you think I've been doing for the last twelve years, Mols? Sitting around? No! I've been working my fucking ass off. Every day. For twelve years. So, don't think I don't understand hard work and commitment. You need a goddamn X-ray."

My firm tone obviously struck a chord as her once-rigid posture faded, and she leaned back into the seat cushions.

"Fine," she relented, her arms still firmly across her chest.