“Hmm.” Mollie taps a finger against her chin. “Maybe I’ll pass, then.” I hold up my hands. “Then I won’t go.” Mollie grins. I’m gripped by the urge to grab her face and— Hell no. No more fantasies about Mollie’s mouth. No more fantasies about Mollie, period. “Then I will,” she says. “I love live music. Thanks for the invite, Patsy.” Jesus, Mollie is such a brat. I wish I hated that about her as much as I did three days ago.
