Babyjacked: A Second Chance Romance

by Sosie Frost

  Ha.

  No way.

  I decided on neutral ground. A sandwich ring. Nothing said cordiality like bologna.

  I pulled up to the cabin and frowned. Why did he insist on leaving the front door open? I hauled the sandwich ring to the porch and rapped on the door with my foot.

  “Hey…” My voice choked off. I nearly dropped the food.

  Rem finished spraying the charred rug in front of the fireplace and set the fire extinguisher on the couch. He tapped out a scorched corner with his boot then kicked the frosted, destroyed rug towards the garbage in the kitchen.

  He’d shaved his beard.

  Not all of it. Just trimmed it close to his jaw. An immaculately chiseled jaw. The dark beard sculpted his face. Not such a wild, mountain savage anymore. Rem might have been the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

  I tucked the sandwiches on the counter and smiled. “Did I miss the show?”

  Mellie used the cushion as a trampoline to careen up and over the back of the sofa. She landed at my feet and grinned. Tabby also played on the sofa, though Rem had foreseen her inevitable fall. A half dozen pillows padded the floor to catch the baby as she rolled off the side.

  “I got it under control,” Rem said.

  “What happened?”

  “As best I can tell…” He poked around inside the hearth. “I think PJ Sparkles got too close to the fire.”

  Mellie shook her head. Her pigtails waggled…one near her ear, the other on top of her head. An admirable effort from Uncle Rem. At least he hadn’t used tape.

  She pointed at him. “BJ was cold!”

  “PJ,” he corrected.

  “I like BJ!”

  He winked at me, but I cautioned him with a wagging finger.

  “Careful.”

  Rem shrugged. “Show me a guy who wouldn’t like a BJ.”

  I wasn’t getting sucked into that discussion. “You missed a spot.”

  Rem stomped on another flickering ember. While he knelt, he examined the fireplace with a poker. “Cas, you know kids better than I do. Is this an accident or a sacrifice?”

  He retrieved the melted plastic doll from the fireplace—hair singed away, cheeks charred, eyes a puddle of plastic. Mellie screamed in abject terror and bolted from the room. Tabby, delighted by the new game, mimicked and stormed off down the hall, chasing her sister with an equally shrill squeal.

  “You might have some nightmares tonight.” I warned.

  “Great.” He popped the horrific doll into the garbage and tapped a hand over the sandwich ring. “What’s this for?”

  “They couldn’t write Sorry My Brother Is A Prick on a cake. Though the bakery did offer to condense the message into a rather convincing doodle.”

  This gave Rem too much ammunition. He crossed his arms, the green flannel a forest dark against the chestnut of his eyes. He’d trimmed his hair too. Neat and tidy. Damn. Now he knew how sexy he looked. He’d use that to every advantage he could.

  His smirk was a blend of playboy arrogance and smug satisfaction. “You were worried about me.”

  I corrected him before he got too cocky. “I was worried about the kids.”

  “Nah, that’s not it.” He swiped a dishrag from the sink and attempted to de-goo a puddle of dried orange juice from the counter. His eyes never left mine. “I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about me last night.”

  I thought about him most nights. Last night was no different. “You know it. You’re just like a popcorn kernel stuck between my teeth.”

  “You were lying awake all night because of me.”

  “Yep. Like a mosquito bite on my ankle.”

  “Bet you couldn’t sleep.”

  “Know how your sock sometimes flips upside down in your shoe?” I took the dishrag from him and tackled another speck of unidentifiable sticky that had dripped down his counters. “You’re that. Except there’s also a splinter in the toe.”

  He leaned a little closer, his voice low. “Bet you wished you could have called me.”

  “Yeah, I wanted you as much as I wanted a never-ending case of the hiccups.”

  “Bet you wished I’d called you.”

  My chest tightened. “No way. You’d be the reason my phone dies at fifteen percent.”

  Too much. Too fast. Rem moved close, and I suffocated in his confidence, his pride. One second I couldn’t breathe, the next…this broken heart would flutter to life.

  “What did you want me to say to you last night?” he whispered. “Tell me what I can say.”

  Nothing.

  There was nothing that would quell five years’ worth of rage, disappointment, and hurt.

  And this tingling mess of emotions wasn’t helping. I shoved it down with a sigh, but a deep breath only fueled the confusion. His scent overwhelmed me—a blend of freshly cut wood and salty sweetness like freshly tapped maple. Just the sort of manliness that’d cling to pillows, sheets, and girls who stayed a little too long for their welcome.

  I pushed him away with the prod of my finger. “I’m only here to drop off the sandwiches.”

  “You know the way to a man’s heart, Cas.”

  “Yeah. Now give me the roadmap out.”

  “Probably vegetables.”

  A bucket of sponges and rags rested on the coffee table. Rem had found a vacuum from the seventies and parked it near the entryway. I plucked the feather duster from Mellie as she pixy-pranced into the kitchen and used it to brush the dirt off Tabby. No dice. I picked the baby up and stared at the dark streaks over her pudgy cheeks.

  “You weren’t a dirty blonde yesterday.” I held her out to Rem. “How’d she get so dirty?”

  “The house has been empty for a long time.” He took her from me with a wince. “I’m not sure if she’s a baby or a dust bunny.”

  “Just don’t toss her in the garbage.”

  “Maybe she’d cry less in there?” He looked in her eyes. Her little lip pouted as she shared his furrowed expression. “Maybe I could just put the top on and muffle the sound. Then we’d be quiet again, huh Tabby?”

  “No!” She patted his cheeks. It appeared to be her favorite word. She giggled as she said it, her face lighting up then going grumpy in an instant for appropriate drama. “No!”

  The cabin was still standing, but dirt was the glue holding it together. I brushed the duster along the curtains near the window. A plume of dust puffed over Mellie as she rushed to my side, hopped on one foot, and doodled a smiling face into the grime of the glass.

  “Rem, I think you need a good spring…summer cleaning,” I said. “Your cobwebs are growing cobwebs.”

  “A little mess is healthy.”

  “Yeah, but I could grow Jules’ planned allotment of corn in the dirt by the entryway.” I dusted a bit harder, brushing a year’s worth of fuzz and debris from the window sill and wooden planked walls. “Do you need help with this? It’s a big job.”

  “I thought you were just delivering some sandwichs.”

  Mellie twirled in the golden sparkles drifting through the patch of sun. Then she sneezed.

  “Pass me the broom,” I said.

  “Now Cassia Payne…” He handed over the broom with a low hum. “If you aren’t here to let me win your heart…you must be avoiding the farm.”

  The broom’s stiff bristles scoured the wooden floor. It felt good. I pitched the pillows and cushions from my path and swept my irritation into the dust pan.

  “Jules was out of line yesterday,” I said. “He shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

  Rem shrugged. Did the rest of him ripple too? How much muscle had this lumberjack packed on while away in the woods?

  “He wasn’t wrong.”

  I could still be embarrassed for my brother. “It wasn’t right to say it. And he knows it. He’d apologize—”

  “Jules will never apologize. And that’s fine. I’m not looking to earn any respect. I’m only in town to watch the kids.”

  Nothing had ever sounded so bizarre
from Rem. When he’d left, he was a bastard. A heartless man who I couldn’t believe had hurt my family so badly.

  Now?

  He’d returned from across the continent to take care of his nieces.

  What had happened to him out in the wilderness?

  “Jules took Dad’s death hard…” I stopped. That wasn’t right. “Everyone took Dad’s death hard. Jules especially, since he’s the executor of the estate. Marius is guilty because he was overseas when it’d happened. Tidus has all these issues now—he’d said some really terrible things to Dad before he died. Hadn’t even come home for three years. Varius…well, after he lost his faith, he lost interest in everything. Hasn’t been the same since he quit the ministry. And Quint is trying to keep it together, but he hates it here the most.”

  Rem offered me a beer. I declined, but he popped off two caps anyway. “And now that the perfect storm of Payne is all gathered in one farmhouse?”

  “It’s chaos. They’re fighting. Constantly. All of them. Jules and Quint. Tidus and Dad’s ghost. Varius and everyone. Marius hasn’t even called from Afganikoreapakiindonesiastan or wherever his classified post is now. Quint is just making it worse for the fun of it. Every day someone is screaming or punching a wall. It’s not right.” I stabbed the floor with the broom. “We’re supposed to be mourning.”

  “What about you? How are you doing?”

  A lot of people had asked me that. Rem’s question felt like the only one that wasn’t a platitude, and I hated how it twisted inside me.

  “I’m done.” I punctuated the words with a sweep out the door and onto the porch. Mellie followed, brushing her own pile of invisible dirt with a magazine. “I spent last year taking care of Dad. I lived at home, gave up a teaching opportunity in Ironfield. But I had to do it. He was practically bed bound by the end, legs too swollen to walk or do much. And where were my brothers?” I extended my arms. “Nowhere to be seen. None of them could deal with what was happening to Dad. After Mom died, and after the fighting started, none of them could stand to be in the same room with each other. Everything went to hell.”

  That wasn’t the truth. The stress and fighting had started before Mom died—when we lost the barn, the season’s stored hay, and two cows. But Rem probably knew that. It’d been his fault.

  I plucked the Maxim out of Mellie’s hands and offered her the broom instead. Rem had the decency to look shamed, but I thwapped it over his head.

  “You know, you really ought to babyproof this place,” I said.

  “What needs to be babyproofed?”

  I pointed to the outlets, including the unfinished one near the bathroom. “Oh, I don’t know. Those fixtures.”

  “Do babies really poke things into the outlets? Sounds like an urban legend.”

  “Not sure you want to rail against helicopter parenting on the issue of electrocution.”

  He reluctantly nodded. “Fine. Electrical sockets. I’ll take care of it.”

  “And the cabinets.”

  “What about them?”

  To illustrate my point, Mellie dove inside the cabinet under the sink, crawled all the way back, and returned to deliver her uncle a present that was either the world’s largest clump of hair or a mummified mouse. He frowned, pitched it outside, and set her on the counter to wash her hands.

  “Cabinets.” He agreed. “I’ll nail ‘em shut. What else?”

  “I…don’t know.” I grabbed a toddling Tabby to give her a squeeze. She clapped, squealed, and tooted in delight. “I mean, there’s a million and one things they can get into up here. What about the big outlay building outside?”

  “The woodshop?” Rem shook his head. “Nah. Millie and I went over that. That’s off-limits.”

  “Is it locked?”

  “Think it should be locked?”

  “What’s inside?”

  “Woodworking stuff. Saws. Power tools. Hammers. Nails.” He winked. “Balloons. Slides. Stuffed animals. A waterfall of chocolate.”

  “Lock it,” I said. “Trust me. Keep everything sharp over there. These girls are going to be a handful. They’ll need constant supervision. You’ll have to make sure they’re on a schedule. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, bath time, bed time. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  His expression said no, but I’d never known Remington Marshall to admit defeat. “Look, Mary Poppins, if you’re so worried…why don’t you grab your magic umbrella and stay up here?”

  I crinkled my nose. “What?”

  “Want a job?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Be their nanny.”

  Never knew Rem to have such a sense of humor. I retrieved the broom and stepped over Mellie as she made dust-angels in the foyer.

  “Okay,” I said. “I charge twenty dollars an hour, and I want benefits.”

  “Done.”

  “Did I say twenty? I meant fifty.”

  Rem didn’t blink. “Whatever you want. Name your price.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “You said this place is a death trap. And, apparently, I’m unprepared for the responsibility of keeping two kids alive. I agree. When do you want to start?”

  “I’m not…” I tapped my nails on the broomstick. “No. I’m not going to be a nanny. I’m leaving, remember? Friend in Ironfield. Looking for a job in the city.”

  “Doing what?”

  Damn it. “…Early childhood education.”

  He poked at Tabby, earning a slobbery smile. “Well, look at that. I happen to have an early child right here. And the other one could probably use some education too before she’s adopted into a dust mite society.”

  “I’m not…I can’t be a nanny.”

  “You know kids. You know what to do for kids. And you like these kids.”

  He thrust Tabby at me, revealing one pudgy little tummy as her shirt rode up. I gave her a tickle, utilizing my sixty-thousand-dollar education to become an expert in giggles.

  “You need the money, don’t you?” he asked.

  I grumbled. “I do.”

  “So?”

  Out of the question. “Absolutely not.”

  He lowered Tabby to the ground and offered her a plastic bowl of Cheerios. The cereal immediately spilled, but the bowl made an excellent drum. The baby was content, and he set his sights on me.

  “Give me one good reason you’ll say no,” he said.

  I’d give him the best one. “We’re not even going to talk about the kisses?”

  Wrong reason.

  Rem’s voice lowered, a dark and caramel growl that layered me with regret and shivers and memories.

  “Must have been some good kisses if you remember them after all this time,” he said.

  I didn’t look at his lips. “You mean you forgot?”

  “I made myself forget.”

  “Why?”

  “Because thinking of that night when you were almost mine is the reason I had to put three thousand miles of uncut wilderness and five years between us.”

  In the past twenty-four hours, this man had made my heart ache so much I considered popping some of Dad’s leftover beta-blockers. I wasn’t about to let Rem twist me up any more.

  “No one asked you to leave,” I said. “No one told you to go. It’s not heroic, Rem. It just hurts.”

  “Good thing I’m a changed man.”

  I’d never wanted him to change, only to be honest. “How can I trust you?”

  “I’ll prove it. I got the kids. I got the bank account. The cabin. The responsibility. I’m different.”

  “You’re still chasing me.”

  His hound-dog grin should have run me up a tree. “Can’t blame a man for trying. It’s lonely in these woods. Gets real dark and cold at night. I’m looking for someone to warm me up.”

  “And that’s why the answer is no. We have a history.”

  “Do we?”

  The sadness kicked me in the gut. “We might have had a history.”

  “Do you think there’s still
a chance?”

  “How could there be, after all that happened?”

  He surprised me with a wink. “Then what’s the problem? Are you attracted to me?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Then work for me.”

  “I can’t.”

  He smoothed that beard. Easier to see his smile. Harder to resist wondering how it’d feel scratching all over me. “What if I show you that this could be perfectly platonic?”

  “How?”

  “Kiss me.”

  I poked him away with the broom. “And what would that prove?”

  “That there’s nothing between us.”

  “That’s like leaving my credit card in the street to prove there are no thieves around.”

  “Not trying to steal anything from you, Sassy.”

  That’s because there was only one thing left to give him, and I’d mercifully avoided that roll in the hay. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “One kiss,” he said. “We’ll settle it once and for all.”

  I focused on cleaning as I scrubbed my way into the kitchen, hoping my hips didn’t sashay with every brush. He watched, his gaze practically boiling over my skin.

  “Why not?” Rem asked.

  I didn’t have to lie. “Because it took me five years to get over our last kiss, and I can’t spend the next five forgetting this one.”

  “One kiss.” He edged too close for me to breathe, think, or defend my honor. “One little, teensy, tiny nibble of a kiss. I promise—I won’t even make it a good one.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed badly before.”

  “Then I can’t afford the risk.”

  “For all we know, every kiss of mine becomes a five-year memory.” He towered over me, leaning in, his whisper playful and tempting. “And that’s just the kiss. Imagine what I could do with a touch. A lick. One night with me, and you might never forget it.”