Babyjacked: A Second Chance Romance

by Sosie Frost

  Rem turned somber—a dark, serious glance broken with a forced shrug. “She’s…sick. Needed some help.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. Just needs time. I came home to wrangle the kids.”

  “I’m surprised to see you.” No harm in the truth.

  “It’s been a while.”

  Silence.

  I looked away. Somehow, under the heavy flannel, bushy beard, and shaggy hair was the Remington Marshall that still made my chest flutter. My options were to escape or find a defibrillator. My heart was broken, but it could still stop if he whispered the right words.

  I shuffled towards the door, but Mellie plucked at the electrical tape banding her knee. The garbage bags of clothes, the injured child, and the quarter inch of dust over the cabin didn’t bode well.

  “Are you sure you know…” How to phrase it without insulting him or completely terrifying the kids. “I had no idea you liked children.”

  “They’re all right.”

  “And…they’re still alive. So you must be doing…okay?”

  Rem snorted. “They’re kids, Cas. I can handle ‘em.”

  Right. “And…how long have you had them?”

  Rem checked his watch. “It’s been five hours, and I haven’t lost my mind yet.”

  Yet. “And you’re happy to babysit?”

  “Sure.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as she needs.” Rem sounded confident. Or foolish. Probably foolish. “Don’t worry. It’s temporary. A week or two at the most. Shouldn’t be too hard. Keep an eye on them until Emma’s good, and then I’ll head back to the logging company.”

  I laughed. Sweet Jesus, he was serious. I covered my mouth. “You…you’re keeping them here?”

  “I was going to let them out at night like a cat, but I figured they’d rather get the lay of the land first.” He plopped the baby on the ground within range of both the wall outlet, fire place, and his penknife on the coffee table. “How hard can it be?”

  And that was all I needed to hear.

  I did not need to get involved.

  Did not need to warm at his smile.

  Did not need to wonder why my skin tingled in his presence.

  Rem was a good-looking boy when we were kids, but at twenty-seven, he was absolutely gorgeous. A hard jaw from hard work. Toughened voice from a tough life. A strong back strengthened through manual labor. He might’ve tussled with a baby hell-bent on toddling into the fireplace, but he hadn’t left the wilds in the forest.

  Rem looked as out of place in his own home as the kids did in the middle of the woods.

  I had to help him.

  Maybe I made this bad decision because it had been so long since I last saw him. Maybe I let my heart lead because the beard disguised him in a dark, tempting mystery. Or maybe I took pity on him because five years ago I had been hopelessly in love with our small town’s baddest bad boy.

  Rem wasn’t a trouble-maker anymore, but he was still in trouble. Especially now that Butterpond had changed so much. We had cell phone reception. Community events. A giant Facebook group where all the busybodies kept in touch. Butterpond wouldn’t let him hunker down in the forest and hide forever.

  And it must’ve terrified him.

  “How’s the farm?” Even his words were jagged, briars in his throat. Either he was out of practice with small talk or he knew he shouldn’t have asked.

  “It’s a warzone,” I said. “but no fires at least.”

  “Tidus okay?”

  “Is he ever?” I smirked. “Tidus hates this town as much as me.”

  “What about everyone else?”

  Well, they wouldn’t be happy to hear that Rem came back home. “Julian is…Julian. Trying to rebuild the farm like he has any idea how to manage it. Marius is overseas still—he can’t tell us where, and he likes it that way. Varius hasn’t been the same since the tornado. Quint…God only knows. Runs around like a puppy, but turns rabid the instant any of my brothers look his way.”

  Rem rummaged through his fridge and offered me a beer. I shook my head. He popped the cap off but didn’t drink.

  “About your dad…” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Just…I’m sorry.”

  So was everyone, but I still nodded and accepted the thoughts, prayers, and Bundt cakes.

  “We knew it was coming,” I said. “His heart was bad.”

  “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

  I’d done a fantastic job of smooshing that pain deep, deep down and suppressing the memories of the past few months when I’d taken care of him. My brothers understood, but it felt different for me—the one adopted girl in the family of biological sons.

  They’d left me alone on the farm with Dad, and the family slowly tore itself apart. Fight after fight, even during Dad’s last days. Each of my brothers swore they’d never speak to the others again.

  At least, until that phone call had to be made.

  “The good news...well…news, I guess,” I said. “Everyone is home now. In Dad’s infinite wisdom, he left the farm to everyone. Every decision on the land must be made in unison, in person. No subdividing the farm. No selling our pieces to anyone else. It’s World War Three with pitchforks and chicken coops.”

  “Feathers flying?”

  “Bombs dropping like eggs.”

  Tabby attempted to toddle with Rem’s wallet into the bathroom. Mellie giggled from inside. Rem excused himself, swore as the toilet flushed, and returned with a soaking wet wallet. He pitched it into the sink and shooed both kids away.

  They stayed glued to him, wrapping their arms around his legs like they hadn’t been hugged in years. Rem knelt down and welcomed them into his thick arms.

  It wasn’t a sight I’d expected to see from a man like him.

  “So what…” His words mumbled over Tabby’s fingers as she clobbered him in the mouth. “What are you…doing?”

  “Anything I can to get out of here.”

  Mellie slid from his side and skipped back to her baby doll. He set Tabby on the counter. I rushed forward before he realized that the one-year-old was a bit hyper and likely to take a tumble. She eagerly offered me more of his possessions. I accepted the jingling keys and his cellphone, but I stopped her before she lunged for a sheathed bowie knife tucked inside a stack of paperwork.

  Rem leaned against the sink, sipping his beer. “You’re leaving, huh? Where are you planning to go?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “Been there, Sassy.” The nickname rolled off his tongue, like he’d never stopped using it. “Running doesn’t get you as far as you think.”

  “Well, I need to get somewhere. I love my brothers too much to start hating them.”

  “You know they need you, especially with your parents gone.”

  The guilt was already suffocating me. “Jules says I remind them of Mom.”

  “Yeah. I can see the family resemblance.”

  As was the gentle joke which passed around the town. I brushed my dark fingers through the bouncing curls I’d swept away with the aid of a bubblegum pink scarf. Didn’t matter if my momma was blonde haired and green eyed or if she shared my mahogany skin and fawn eyes, people in Butterpond knew I was her daughter because she’d taught me how to be a lady.

  And how to whoop my brothers into shape if they gave me a hard time.

  But mostly how to be a good lady.

  Also, a forgiving woman. She never thumped the Bible, only used it to swat our backsides when we acted out. What would she say about this? The man I swore never to forgive…and the kids tumbling around his house.

  Mellie climbed the woodpile. Tabby unsuccessfully attempted to roll off the counter, falling into my arms.

  And he thought it was going to be easy.

  He wouldn’t last the night.

  “Do you have everything you need for them?” I asked.

  Rem nodded. “I got some of their clothes. They brought toys. I set them up
in the spare bedroom.”

  “Well, that’s good. But…do you know Tabby’s diaper is on backwards?”

  He approached the child, picked her up under the arms, and gave her a quick once over.

  “Is that why it keeps leaking?” He whistled in realization. “Thought she was an overachiever.”

  Fantastic. “Okay, Rem…there’s like, six things I can see from where I’m standing that will seriously maim the very young children.”

  He plopped Tabby on the counter and attempted to twist the diaper to the right position. When that didn’t work, he undid the tabs with so much force ripped the Velcro, removed the diaper, and left her tush on the cold counter. The diaper flipped, but he couldn’t fasten it.

  He grabbed his handy electrical tape once more. “There. Now she’s got a racing stripe.”

  If only he could feed, bathe, and entertain the kids with tape too. At least it wasn’t a staple gun.

  I finally asked the question. “Do you need help, Rem?”

  His lazy smile would’ve been cute if Mellie wasn’t heading for the axe he’d set near the backdoor. “You worried about me, Sassy?”

  “Worried you’re going to end up on the news…” I pointed to the axe wielding Mellie—one blue ox short of a classic American tall tale. “And now I’ll be an accomplice.”

  “Mellie, you chop my house down, you’re building the next one.” He took the axe from her hands and searched for a place to put it. The cabin was a mess, so he shrugged and stuck it on top of the fridge, clattering a couple pots and pans out of the way. “They’re kids. Sure, I need some time to fix the place up…” Rem batted at a spider web over the kitchen window. I cringed as the spider clamored to hide in the dusty curtains. “But they needed me. Emma asked, so here I am. Someone’s gotta help the girls. Just like what your family used to do for all those kids—including me.”

  “You’re certain you can handle it?”

  “Got no problems here.”

  I should have left. The suitcase waited in my car. I had a full-tank of gas. I’d been threatening to head to Ironfield for two weeks now.

  Rem had the box of supplies. The kids hadn’t set fire to the cabin yet.

  They’d be fine.

  But my feet didn’t move. “Do you have food for them?”

  Rem took a swig from his beer. A liquid dinner might have suited him, but I doubted Mellie and Tabby wanted to lounge on the couch, knocking back a cold six-pack of Juicy Juice.

  “I’ll find something,” he said. “I think it’s cute that you’re worried.”

  “I’m not worried.” If I was worried, I’d have to stay. “I’m…making conversation.”

  “Could have done that a long time ago,” he said. “Called me up.”

  And let him know how twice in the past five years I’d actually tracked down a contact number for him in the middle of the Canadian wilds? No thanks.

  “I didn’t hear from you either,” I said. “Not even a hey, sorry about the barn.”

  “I am sorry about the barn. Sorry about a lot of things. Sorry I haven’t seen you since then.”

  I stomped down a betraying warmth. No need to open that Pandora’s Box. “You were the one who left.”

  “You didn’t want me around.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Cause you were too polite. You’d let Julian’s fist do the talking.”

  “He’s quite persuasive.”

  “And if he knew you were up here, asking about my dinner plans?”

  I smirked. “Asking about the kids’ dinner plans.”

  Rem glanced over his shoulder. “Mellie, want some dinner?”

  The little girl marched into the kitchen, dragging Rem’s boots on her feet. She stumbled as she walked, but she raised her little chin as if she wore a tiara instead of steel-toed mud buckets.

  “I don’t like peas,” she said.

  “Me either. See?” He winked. “We’re fine.”

  This would be fun. I knelt to her level. “Mellie, what else don’t you like to eat?”

  Her words bumbled in and out of intelligibility. “Chicken. Broccoli. Green. Yogurt. Cars. Dragons. Shoes!”

  The answer became a rambling story about a kitten, dragon, and a spaghetti noodle, but she illustrated my point.

  “Any ideas, Chef?” I asked.

  Rem had attempted to memorize her preferences and got lost somewhere around worms and green. “I…have some beef jerky.”

  “You’re going to feed beef jerky to some toddlers?”

  “Got some trail mix too. A can of soup beans.”

  “…How long are you keeping the kids?”

  “As long as Emma needs.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “How long do you think you can keep them alive?”

  “At least through the night.”

  Good enough for me. Now it was my turn to leave him. I’d already survived five years without speaking, without resolving anything, without…

  Saying those words.

  I’d last another five. Maybe by then, he’d be out of jail for child endangerment.

  “Start small,” I said. “Do you have milk?”

  “Well-water.”

  “Do you want my advice?”

  Rem braced himself on the counter, muscles flexing, eyes brightening with a roguish playfulness that made any game unwinnable.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Cas…I’ll take anything you’re willing to give.”

  “Go into town—”

  “Nope.”

  I sighed. “Why not?”

  “I’ve gotten real good at avoiding Butterpond.”

  “Who’s the real baby here? Get off this mountain. Take the girls into town. Buy some kid-friendly food.”

  “Like…chew and whiskey?”

  I scolded him. “Battery acid and horseradish.”

  He grimaced, finally realizing the girls couldn’t survive on dried meats and wild onions.

  “Okay,” he said. “This might be hard to believe, Cas…but I might need some help managing this circus. I mean…” His smile turned wicked. “I can pitch a hell of a tent, but beyond that…”

  I didn’t need the visual. It’d taken years for me to stop fantasizing about it. “It won’t be that hard. Just…feed them. Make sure they don’t set themselves or the forest on fire. Put them to bed. Repeat.”

  “Go with me,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “To the store.”

  Nope. Nada. Not happening. “It’s right where you left it, Rem.”

  “How will I know what to buy? Chicken nuggets or liver and onions? Red jello or red wine?”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  He edged a little closer, grabbing Tabby before she tossed his phone against the wall. “Not asking for much, Sassy. Give me a couple pointers.”

  “I’m on my way out of town.” And this time, I meant it.

  That smile didn’t just slay me—it pinned me against the ropes, powerslammed me to the mat, then grabbed a metal folding chair from the crowd.

  “How about one last favor for me?” he asked.

  Not a chance. That well had emptied trying to put out the barn fire.

  He read my reluctance. “Okay. A favor to the kids?”

  Damn it. Tabby gave me a wave of her chubby fingers. Mellie continued to list things she liked, didn’t like, and some sounds the baby particularity enjoyed while shouted at the top of her lungs.

  I surrendered. “Tell me you have a car seat.”

  “No, the kids rode up here on top of a wild boar. Have a little faith, Cassi.”

  “That’s the problem,” I said. “I don’t have much faith left in you.”

  “Me either.” Rem’s voice had mellowed with honesty and time. “Just means I can’t disappoint you anymore, huh?”

  “You’ve never backed down from a challenge.”

  “That settles it.” His amusement thudded my heart like an axe missing a tree and striking a nearby boulder
instead. “I got nothing else to lose, Cas.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I already lost you.”

  2

  Remington

  I never thought anything could be as bad as the day a splinter had wedged in the cushion of my truck’s seat. If only I might have stayed so naïve.

  Cheerios made for a worse ride. Or were they Lucky Charms? Some sort of dusted cereal had ground into every square inch of my truck. The seats. The windows. The carpets. Inside the dome light.

  Five hours.

  I had the kids for five hours.

  Where the hell did the cereal come from? Did it sprout from their pockets? And why the hell were their hands perpetually sticky? They seemed to exude some sort of adhesive. Christ, I could have saved on wood glue and just rubbed a toddler over my furniture instead.

  I had braced myself for the diapers and the crying and the shrieking. Wasn’t that much different from a weekday night on the snowfields with the other loggers who’d run to the far corner of the earth just to escape whatever caused them to pound beer after beer at night. Vomit. Shit. Piss. Tears. They’d prepared me for the ankle-biters.

  But no one had told me about the crumbs. The girls had a halo of grime that followed them around. Maybe not dirt or anything gross, but a tornado of food bits, fuzz, and inexplicable chocolate.

  I didn’t even know I had chocolate in the cabin.

  Where in the hell had they found it?

  Was it even chocolate?

  I didn’t have a goddamned clue what I was doing.

  And I sure as hell hadn’t expected to open the door this afternoon and face all of five-foot-nothing Cassia Payne.

  That woman was the embodiment—the embootyment—of my every past mistake. She was a good girl every boy wanted to chase, but I was the bad boy who’d cracked that hard, chocolate shell of hers. Unfortunately, before I could get a taste…I’d crushed her heart.

  Probably for the best.

  I didn’t deserve her then. I sure as hell didn’t deserve her help grocery shopping now.

  “Is this the store?” Mellie swung her legs with the express purpose of ensuring her mismatched tennis shoes could hit my seat.

  They could.

  Pink shoe struck first. Purple followed, smacking the seat with enough force to feel it in my kidney.