help next. Her turquoise Cowgirl Up Café T-shirt seemed way too tight and didn’t go with the long, flowing skirt. Molly remembered her high school job at a fish and chips place near Groton, Connecticut, when her parents had been stationed at the military base there. On her first day, she’d been tossed an oversize orange-and-blue striped polyester dress that smelled like battered grease and Atlantic cod and had the name “Dolores” stenciled on the front.
She felt this woman’s pain. Thank God Molly had become a pilot, because she had sucked at every job she’d ever had before enlisting. Ugh! Did that mean that if she couldn’t fly planes, she’d have to go back to waitressing? To being around all this delicious food and not being able to sample a single bite?
When Monica—at least that what the waitress’s name tag read—finally made her way to them, she fumbled with her notepad and barely made eye contact before asking to take their order.
“You gotta get one of their cinnamon rolls, Aunt Molly,” Hunter said. “They’re world famous.”
“As good as that sounds, I think I’m going to get the veggie omelet.” She tried to ignore her nephew’s gagging expression.
“Would you like hash browns or home fries with that?” Monica asked.
Even with Hunter sitting between them, and at least fifty other diners in the surrounding area, Molly could clearly hear Kaleb’s swift intake of breath. She zeroed in on his disapproving scowl.
“What?” Molly asked.
“Potatoes are a starch, which basically converts into sugar as soon as it hits your digestive tract.”
“They’re also a vegetable. I’m sure a couple of bites would be fine.”
“Look.” Kaleb pointed to something on the menu before suggesting, “How about the sliced tomatoes?”
The waitress, who, up until that point, had looked as though she’d rather be anywhere that didn’t require social interaction, lifted one of her eyebrows at Molly and gave her that look women give each other to silently ask, Are you really going to let this guy talk to you like that?
Each fiber of Molly’s soul wanted to fight back and order every single potato product they served—which would’ve been quite a meal considering they were in the great state of Idaho. But she ignored the throbbing vein in her temple and only mildly defied him by forcing out the words, “I’ll take the cottage cheese.” And then in an effort to prove to this stranger that the controlling man sitting next to them wasn’t the boss of her, she added, “And a side of bacon.”
When Kaleb ordered the cinnamon roll French toast, Molly shot him the dirtiest look she could manage. It might’ve been juvenile, but it was either that or risk giving Hunter another IOU for his swear jar.
“I thought you guys were friends,” her nephew said once Monica left to get Kaleb’s orange juice.
“I don’t know if I’d say we were—” Kaleb broke off when Molly drew a finger across her neck.
“Of course we’re friends, Hunter.” Molly held the tight smile as her nephew looked back and forth between them. She prayed her jaw didn’t crack.
“Oh, I get it,” the boy finally said. “My mom and Cooper used to argue like that before they got married.”
“We’re not arguing,” Kaleb’s mouth said, while his eyes added, Nor are we getting married.
Not that she needed him to spell it out. But clearly, Hunter did, because the twelve-year-old didn’t look convinced.
“That’s also what my mom and Cooper used to say.” Hunter’s knowing smirk was enough to make Molly sink down in her seat as she bit back an argumentative response.
* * *
Oddly enough, that wasn’t the most awkward breakfast Kaleb had ever had. Even when he’d grabbed the check, only to have Molly tear the paper in two when she wrestled it out of his grip, he’d only been mildly annoyed. Too bad the business owners in Sugar Falls hadn’t caught on to SmartPay; otherwise, he could’ve paid the bill with a simple tap on his watch.
In fact, the woman seemed to bring out his competitive spirit, a Chatterson trait that always seemed to intensify whenever he was in the same city as his antagonistic siblings. Plus, seeing her get all flustered and defensive every time she thought Kaleb might slip and say something was rather entertaining.
Most of the women he went out with were overly agreeable, always putting him—and his bank account—on a pedestal. Fortunately, the novelty of dating a billionaire wore off as soon as they realized Kaleb spent more time inside his company’s headquarters than he did jet-setting around the world, making social appearances. So it was an interesting change of pace to be sharing a meal with an attractive female who wasn’t trying to impress him or talk him into taking her shopping or to a swanky, new restaurant.
Actually, Kaleb got the impression that Molly couldn’t wait for him to leave. They’d barely walked outside the café when Hunter invited him over to play video games. Kaleb was tempted to accept, if only to see Molly squirm some more.
“I thought we were going to head into Boise today to see that new superhero movie,” Molly told her nephew.
“Superhero movie?” Kaleb asked. He knew exactly which one she was talking about because he’d been an adviser on set to Robert Downey, Jr., and had been invited to the premiere a few weeks ago. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“You know.” Molly rolled her wrist in a circle. “The one where the guy wears that suit and he fights that bad guy who is trying to destroy that thing.”
Hunter slapped a palm to his forehead. “He’s called Iron Man.” Then the kid looked at Kaleb. “You wanna come with us?”
“I wish I could.” And he was surprised to realize that was the truth. He’d love to sit by Molly in a dark air-conditioned movie theater, sharing a hot bucket of buttery popcorn... Wait. Was she supposed to eat popcorn? He pulled out his phone to ask his voice-operated search engine, then saw the two sets of eyes eagerly awaiting his response to the original question. Although each set looked hopeful for opposite answers.
“Actually, I can’t,” he finally said, and Molly let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m supposed to go with my family on some sort of ATV tour this afternoon.”
Her look of relief suddenly turned to one of blanket envy. He recognized the expression from twenty minutes ago when she was staring at the maple syrup dripping off the cinnamon roll French toast he was eating, looking like she wanted to stab him with her fork so that she could lick his plate clean.
Just then, Hunter waved at a kid getting out of an SUV down the street. “That’s Jake Marconi. Hold on a sec, I’m gonna go tell him something.”
The boy left Kaleb standing there alone with his aunt.
“I’ll give you ten dollars to switch with me this afternoon,” Molly said under her breath, her nephew barely out of hearing distance.
“I’d gladly switch for free,” Kaleb replied. “But my dad keeps accusing me of avoiding my family. Trust me. I’d much rather see the movie again than bounce along an overgrown trail, hanging on to some four-wheeled motorcycle for dear life.”
Her face was incredulous. “Are you kidding? Who’d want to sit and watch a bunch of fake action on the screen when you could be out there living it?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to spend the evening on his sister’s sofa with a heating pad wedged under his back.” Not that Kaleb was worried about a flare-up from his old surgery, but it was obvious that an adrenaline junkie like Molly—or at least like most pilots—wouldn’t understand that some people preferred to get their excitement the virtual way.
“Hey, Kaleb.” Hunter ran back to them, another boy on his heels and a woman trying to keep up behind them. “This is my friend Jake. I told