Page 57 of No Offense

“Ugh, jeez, Dad.” She pushed him away, but she was grinning as she did it. “I love you, too. And you know I will.”

Later, John found himself driving to the Lazy Parrot, asking himself if he was crazy. Who brought the woman they were interested in a pie? Let alone a pie and flowers in the same day. If Pete ever found out about this, he’d think he was nuts.

But John had to do something to show Molly how sorry he was for acting like such a—

Grumpy dad.

He didn’t feel very reassured about his decision when he walked into the lobby of the Lazy Parrot and saw no one (as usual) at the front desk. He hadn’t realized it was so late. Probably Molly was in bed already. After all, tomorrow was Monday, a workday, even for children’s librarians. He should have called first.

But if he called, he might wake her. He could take a gamble, he thought, and hope she was still up and at the tikibar—though what would she be doing there this late on a Sunday night?

He went through the lobby and out into the courtyard and instantly regretted it.

“Hello again, sexy policeman!” The tourist from before was in the hot tub—even though it was close to seventy-five degrees outside—and she was still drinking. How was that even possible? By rights she should have passed out by now from dehydration.

But no—she had a plastic cup shaped like a coconut in her hand, accompanied by a pink paper umbrella. She was staying well hydrated on something.

“Hello,” John replied, just to be polite.

“Are you looking for Molly again?” the woman asked. There were several other people in the hot tub with her, none of whom, unfortunately, was Molly.

“Well,” John said, trying to figure out the best reply. If he said yes, it might not look good. But if he said no, it would be a lie. “I, er—”

“He’s looking for Molly,” the woman assured her friends, and they all cackled in a friendly but decidedly knowing way.

Feeling foolish standing there with his pie, John began to back away. “Maybe I’ll just come back another—”

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” the woman said. “Is that for her?” She was eyeing the insulated bag in his hands.

“Um,” he said. “Yes, it is.”

“What is it?”

“It’s, um.” John could not remember ever feeling so stupid. “It’s a pie.”

“A pie?”

“A key lime pie.”

The women in the hot tub exchanged glances. John couldn’t read them, exactly, since it was dark in the courtyard except for the light from the pool and the party lights strung across the tiki hut. But he thought they were smiling.

“Don’t worry, hon,” one of the women said, finally. “We’ll get her for you.” Then, to John’s utter mortification, the women began to scream, “Molly! Molly!”

“Wait,” he said. “You don’t have to—”

But it was too late. He heard a door being opened somewhere above his head, and turned to see Molly on the second-floor balcony, wearing only an overlarge Denver Broncos T-shirt and what appeared to be men’s boxer briefs. Even more startlingly, she had on a large pair of glasses in tortoiseshell frames.

It had never occurred to him before that Molly wore glasses, but evidently, she did. Possibly she wore contacts during the day. This would at least partly account for why her eyes always seemed so large and dark.

“What is it, Mrs. Filmore?” she called down to the women in a slightly irritated voice, then noticed John.

“Oh,” she said, in an entirely different tone. “It’s you.”

Their gazes met, and it was as if the rest of the world melted away. The only thing that existed was her, and the smell of the night-blooming jasmine.

At least until the woman in the hot tub behind him shouted, “He brought you pie!”

John wished the earth would open and swallow him whole.