Mollywood (Carved Hearts #2) Read online

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  Mollywood

  A Carved Hearts Novel

  Copyright © 2014 by L.G. Pace III & Michelle Pace

  Cover designer: Robin Harper. Wicked By Design.

  Cover model: Ruby Franco

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Something Blue

  Chapter Two - Glitterbomb

  Chapter Three - Complications

  Chapter Four - Announcements

  Chapter Five - Carved Hearts and Burnt Ends

  Chapter Six - Patience

  Chapter Seven - Cats and Dogs

  Chapter Eight - Boiling Point

  Chapter Nine - Pompeii

  Chapter Ten - Alone Time

  Chapter Eleven - Surf and Turf

  Chapter Twelve - Treats and Treaties

  Chapter Thirteen - White Christmas

  Chapter Fourteen - Full Circle

  Chapter Fifteen - Changes

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  “MOLLY, YOU ABOUT ready?” Joe’s rough voice called to me from the living room.

  I paused in my effort to put in my second earring. “Just a second.”

  “We’ve gotta hit the road, little girl! This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we can be late for.” His gravelly baritone sounded commanding, and I’m sure most people would’ve been quick to respond to his authoritative delivery; however, I’m not most people. I arched an eyebrow and picked up my tube of lipstick.

  “Pipe down, Joe.” I shot back, and I could hear his exasperated sigh all the way in the back bedroom. Heaving a weighty exhale of my own, I turned away from my vanity and opened my mouth to apologize. But, remembering that he’d been the one to start the argument, I turned back to the mirror. I took my time, applying some coral color to my lips and giving my upswept hair a last onceover. Joe may have won the battle, but dammit…I’d win the war.

  Taking a small sip from my sweet tea, I stood and surveyed the damage in my full length mirror. I’m always pretty critical of my appearance, but I felt as ready as I would ever be for the marathon of pictures I was about to be in. My mint green dress was just the sort of flouncy thing that usually picked up my spirits. But now on the day of the big event, the fitted bodice felt snug. Thankfully, it still looked okay despite the extra few pounds I’d gained from all the recent stress.

  The last few months had been nothing short of chaotic. We’d just managed to put the legal situation with my ex-husband to rest. Draven had made the prosecuting attorney’s job fairly easy by leaving so much physical evidence, including the video of his tirade and the string of text messages to me. Then there was the whole business about him using an app to track my movements. Sadly, none of his shenanigans carried much of a sentence and his plentiful bank accounts had afforded him skilled representation. At least he was behind bars where he belonged, even if it was only for a little while.

  Meanwhile, Joe’s wood working business, Good Wood, had taken off like a thoroughbred at the sound of a gunshot. When word got out that he was carving again, offers had come in droves. His reputation as a master woodworker had people buzzing. He had to quit his construction gig within weeks of the website going live. Who knew that my sexy carpenter had such a following in the wood working world? People from as far away as Peru had come seeking his special skills.

  Between the out of control success of my food trucks and the spike in orders for Joe’s shop, we’d had very little time for each other. When we were together, we spent way too much of our time arguing. I guess you could say there was trouble in paradise. I wish I could say we fought about important things, but it seemed like lately it was mostly about trivial bullshit. Neither of us seemed to be able to break this new and disturbing pattern, and it was taking its toll on us both.

  Thrusting my worries aside, I turned sideways and sucked in my abdomen. My sleeve of tattoos popped against the green dress giving me at least one thing to smile about. The constricting bodice, however…I needed to get my act together about that. Vowing to immediately cease my morning trips to the bakery down the block, I slung my purse over my shoulder and hurried out to silence my handsome escort.

  Joe stood at the window with his back to me. The afternoon sunlight played on the highlights in his honey hair. His broad shoulders filled out his collared shirt perfectly, and the way his ass looked in those slacks was inspirational. He’d draped his gray suit jacket casually over his shoulder, and the pose made him look like he belonged in a Hugo Boss ad. I’d never met a more handsome man, and even though we’d lived together for going on eight months, my breath still caught whenever I saw him.

  He must have heard me come into the room, because he turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes widened and swept me from head to toe as he slowly turned.

  “Well?” I twirled in a circle so that my skirt flared, revealing my ivory petticoat underneath. Joe blinked twice, and his square jaw dropped. “Worth the wait, Captain Patience?”

  “You look…amazing.” His smoldering gaze honed in on mine, and he took several steps toward me. Just when I was sure he’d pull a Joe and ravish my lipstick off, he halted and frowned. Raking a hand through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath. “We really do have to go.”

  “Right.” I agreed, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. There never seemed to be enough time anymore for the good stuff. I reached for the door handle, and recalling the last time we got carried away my eyes flew wide. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

  I crossed the room and scooped up a blue garter belt from the coffee table with my index finger. Holding it up for his inspection, my lips curled in a naughty smile. “Something borrowed and blue!”

  Joe smirked, probably remembering how he’d taken the garter off with his teeth the night before. The way his brow immediately furrowed again told me we’d be having another one of our “talks” on the way out to Lake Travis. My heart sank in anticipation. Our discussions were beginning to feel a lot like lectures, and it grew harder each time to keep a lid on my temper.

  Joe had been after me for several weeks to shut down truck one long enough for him to install an extra air conditioner. He felt that part of the reason I’d been feeling run down was my constant exposure to the 130 degree temperatures in the truck all summer long. I argued back that I couldn’t stand to lose the revenue and that if he real
ly wanted to make himself useful, he could install external misters so that customers would linger longer and buy more. It had been over 100 degrees for nearly a month straight and the food truck parks had been like ghost towns. Thankfully, truck one had a permanent home outside of a bar, and that same Texas heat made people thirsty. The truck at Cas’s bar more than made up for the slower action at the other location. And more importantly, the heat wave had finally come to an abrupt end. Still, Joe was like a dog with a bone about making the alterations to the older of my two trucks. He just didn’t get that I couldn’t shut down at the drop of a hat, but he would soon enough now that he had his own employees who depended on him.

  It was hard to stay mad at him, though. I’d been lusting after Joe since I was in the ninth grade, but that was “Old happy-go-lucky Joe”. That man no longer existed of course, though sometimes my Joe did a fairly convincing impersonation of him. He truly seemed contented most of the time, but “Brooding and Complicated Joe” returned a bit more with every passing day. I’d wondered more than once if he was skipping his weekly sessions with his psychiatrist.

  Joe reached for my hand and laced his fingers in mine, pulling me toward the door. We managed to get all the way to TX-1 Loop N and were on our way out of Austin before he turned the music down and started in.

  Again.

  “You need to change your phone number.” His tone was stone cold. I turned my head in his direction, but he kept his eyes on traffic.

  “I’ve already changed it once.” My stomach tied itself in knots. We were revisiting an older fight, and the topic change caught me off guard. Unsnapping my purse, I grabbed the container of mints rather than the bottle of Xanax next to it. If I’d have thought I could have kept it down, I’d have swallowed both. When I spoke again, it sounded like a plea for mercy. “Joe…we’ve been over this…”

  “Baby girl, I swear I’m not trying to pick a fight.” His voice softened, as he glanced sideways at me. I was a sucker for that sad puppy dog expression and his sexy Texan drawl. I settled into the headrest behind me, swiftly defeated by his time-tested strategy.

  “I don’t want to fight with you either. Today’s supposed to be a happy day.” Instead of looking victorious, Joe just seemed even more troubled. I despised seeing him down and knowing I was the cause made it worse Unable to resist, I reached over and stroked the sensitive skin on the back of his neck with my fingertips. He smiled and pulled away.

  “Stop that. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.” Joe’s extreme ticklishness was his Achilles heel, and his neck was my favorite target. Taunting him would usually make him dissolve into fits of laughter or cause him to pull over and have his wicked way with me. As far as I was concerned, either result would be a win. But traffic was thick, so it was in our best interest for him to focus on the road. There’d be plenty of time after the wedding for all manner of kink, so I grudgingly removed my offending digits.

  Thankfully my distraction tactics worked and he dropped the subject. We moved on to our other favorite topic, how busy we’d both be in the next few weeks. Joe had recently hired my brother, Mac, initially to keep up with his insane workload. Good Wood was already doing custom furniture and carving but the moment Mac came on board, he opened a whole other product line.

  Mac had a special talent for restoration projects and had worked all over the area. He was on the short list of people that did that kind of thing well, which meant when the materials couldn’t be used in the restoration, he often had first dibs on salvageable stuff others never got a chance to see. He’d hoarded tons of material that he had salvaged over the years from buildings set for demo. He had a couple of storage units, some things at mom’s in her shed, and his garage and shop were overrun with the stuff. His ex-wife, Princess Patron, had once famously threatened to burn their house down just to destroy all his “beloved old shit”, as she put it.

  Between helping Joe fulfill the already overloaded job requests, Mac had built a birthday present for our mom. An insanely cool coffee table made from the mantle that had once rested over the fireplace at our family’s old restaurant, Hildebrandt’s. I had my friend and webmaster, Jay, add the pictures of the table to the Good Wood website and people when nuts. Suddenly, everyone wanted repurposed pieces. Francis, Joe’s head of sales, had been fielding orders far faster than the guys could build them. Now Joe was looking to add another new employee to keep up with demands. I thought about the long days Joe and Mac were putting in and the hours I’d be covering for Sanchez all next week and groaned.

  “We need a vacation.”

  “That we do.” Joe agreed, cocking an eyebrow with a sideways glance in my direction. “Where do you wanna go?”

  I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “The beach. Somewhere isolated. Just you and me and a hammock under a palm tree. No phones, no computers, completely unplugged. Preferably naked.”

  Joe snickered, and as if the lightened mood had summoned it, my phone rang. It’s funny how your favorite song, when used as your ringtone, can quickly become the most grating sound ever. I huffed and yanked the phone out of my purse. I frowned when I saw an unfamiliar number.

  “Who is it?” Any sign of amusement had vanished from Joe’s chiseled features.

  “I don’t know.” I admitted, aware my answer wouldn’t go over well.

  His jaw tensed and he inhaled deeply. “Let it go to voicemail.”

  I clenched my teeth and nodded. He was right, but I’ve never been a fan of being told what to do. Dropping the phone into my purse, I tossed it back onto the floor.

  Joe pulled my car up to our destination, and I fidgeted nervously with my skirt. The Oasis was an imposing four story facility that could seat close to 2500 guests total. It sat overlooking Lake Travis with the most spectacular views imaginable. There were several different spaces they rented for parties, and the one we were destined for was one of the more modest sized rooms. The ceremony was scheduled to be on the terrace at 6:00 p.m. The reception would follow immediately afterward inside The Sunset Villa room. I had to admit, The Oasis was a breathtaking location for a wedding.

  Joe opened the door for me, and as we crossed the parking lot to the entrance I felt his hand come to rest on the small of my back. I felt those familiar butterflies in response to his touch. When it came to Joe Jensen, I’d had butterflies for so many years that they felt like old friends.

  Even after all these months, it was hard to believe he was really mine. He’d been best pals with my older brothers when they were all in high school, and then they’d all been roommates for a couple years after. Most girls would’ve been overjoyed to have their brother’s leave home, but I was bummed that Joe wouldn’t be hanging out in the basement rec room anymore. I found any excuse to go visit them at their shitty rental house. Joe was always sweet to me, though the twins teased me mercilessly for my obvious infatuation. After a couple years of unrequited crushing, I’d finally taken the hint that I was dreaming and moved on to boys my own age.

  I sort of lost track of Joe on my march through life. I graduated and ran off to culinary school on the west coast. I’d settled in Seattle, hoping to make a name for myself that had nothing to do with being the daughter of a successful restaurateur. For a while, I was on track to do just that, but got derailed, as so many other young women do, by a smooth talking Prince Charming.

  When I got divorced and moved back home to Austin last year, I ran into Joe again while cooking at my brothers’ jobsite. I’d been shocked at his dramatic transformation. Though he was still ridiculously good looking, his attitude completely sucked. Sweet Joe had become bitter and brusque. Of course, once I’d learned that he’d lost his wife and unborn baby in a car accident, his war torn demeanor made perfect sense.

  Jessica and Jack’s untimely deaths always disturbed me, and thinking about it made me feel awfully petulant. Joe had definitely been through hell and come out the other side surprising well adjusted. However, he could be a bit overprotective, but based on his past it was kin
d of understandable. At least, he was working on his issues rather than ignoring them. Granted, his therapy had been court ordered after he got in one fight too many. Dr. Green was assigned to help him with anger management. It hadn’t always been a smooth relationship from what Joe had shared with me, but lately he had made significant progress. So much progress, in fact that Dr. Greene had released him from mandatory therapy months ago. Joe had made the choice to keep going , which I considered a positive sign.

  If I was honest with myself, Joe had legitimate reasons to be concerned about me. My ex-husband was a total psycho stalker. But Draven was locked up and serving time and besides…I could take care of myself. I’d been doing so for years before Joe was around.

  I found myself looking over at Joe’s perfect profile, and felt that familiar ache in my chest. Frustrated at our disjointed state and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I stopped in my tracks. Joe turned to face me, a perplexed expression marring his flawlessness. I placed my hands on both of his uncharacteristically smooth cheeks and looked him in the eye.

  “I love you, Joe.” I felt my throat narrow painfully, and blinked away unexpected tears.

  “I love you, too.” His frown deepened and he brushed my sweeping bangs away from my eyes. “What’s wrong, Molly?”

  It was a good question and I wished I had a reasonable explanation. We’d come so far and been through so much, it seemed unfair that we couldn’t get it together long enough to enjoy any of it. I’d been wracking my brain for weeks to find the right thing to say, a verbal Band-Aid to slap over a hemorrhaging wound. It made me wish my love life could be as straightforward as my job. A good chef can throw random ingredients into a pot and create something delicious. On rare occasions, fate does the same thing with hearts. With the right combination of elements at just the right time, a couple can fall head over heels in love. That being said, blending two lives can get messier than any kitchen and also a hell of a lot harder to clean up. I wasn’t usually such a bawl baby, but when it came to Joe, all bets were off. I was freaked out about “us” just then, and what we were becoming. I pulled his face down to meet mine and kissed his lips delicately, so he wouldn’t be covered in my lipstick all night. “Let’s try to enjoy ourselves and talk about the ugly stuff afterwards. Okay?”