Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  Molly blushed, then glanced at her clothes. “Gorgeous? I’m a mess. If I’m going to Savannah, I need to run home, put away my groceries, and change.” She held the baby out in front of her. “Look at you. So sweet, and Uncle Brant’s bad-mouthing you.”

  Jax cooed and babbled, then blinked one eye.

  “Are you winking at me?”

  He threw her a sloppy grin.

  “Is it okay if I go with you while Uncle Brant visits Mommy? Hmm?”

  The baby waved his arms, then made a beeline for her necklace.

  Laughing, she covered it with one hand. “I do have a price, though.” Her gaze slid from the baby to his uncle.

  Brant’s expression turned wary.

  She smiled. “After you visit your sister, take Jax and me to my favorite Savannah lunch spot.”

  “Is it babyproof?”

  “Very.”

  Jax let out a high-pitched squeal and thumped his feet against Molly’s hip.

  “See? Even Jax is excited about it.” Molly kissed the baby’s cheek.

  “The kid’s excited about anything he can put in his mouth.”

  Molly laid her hand on Brant’s arm and felt the sizzle. Brant must have, too, because he pulled away, brows raised.

  Steady. Stay steady. “It’ll be okay,” she said.

  “Says you.”

  “Yes, says me. I’ll pick up the last few things I need. Then I’m yours for the day.”

  “Mine for the day?” His tone held a touch of naughtiness.

  She tossed him a saucy grin.

  “You know,” he said, his voice gruff, “a grin like that about cuts a man off at the knees.”

  Still smiling, she handed him the baby.

  But when she pushed her cart in the opposite direction, he stopped her. “Whoa. Wait a minute, sugar. You can’t leave me alone with all this.” He swept a hand, indicating the mile-long aisle of baby foods and supplies. “Help me. Please.”

  “What does he like?”

  “No idea. I haven’t seen him since he was two months old, and Lainey took him to Florida.”

  Molly bit her tongue. Not a good time to ask about Jax’s father.

  “He’s a beast now, but Jax was a preemie. So for the couple months he was here, he was way too tiny for me. Too breakable. And since Lainey was breastfeeding…” He shrugged.

  Palming a jar of food, he gave it the evil eye. “Look at this. The label says number two is for a six-month-old. Jax is seven. Do I still buy him a two? Or do I bump up to a three?”

  “Brant, I don’t know any more about this than you do.”

  “Isn’t it genetic or something? Part of a woman’s DNA?”

  She smiled ruefully. “No. I don’t have younger siblings, no nieces or nephews. And before you ask, I never babysat. I have no experience whatsoever.”

  “But you must love babies. I mean, who doesn’t?”

  Jax let out a loud burp.

  She laughed. “I do. Even burping male ones.”

  Despite herself, she gave in and helped him pick out enough food for a small army.

  “What if I feed him something he’s allergic to?”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. What have you fed him so far?”

  “The stuff in his diaper bag.”

  “Feed him that till you talk to Lainey. Ask her today.”

  “Good idea, but boring.”

  “Well, then, try something different.”

  He palmed a jar of food. “Quinoa and kale? Seriously? That’s like sending the kid off to some sissy spa. Real men don’t eat this stuff.” Shaking his head, he dropped it into the shopping cart along with a bag of organic pears and spinach mix and “strong veggies” in some kind of a squeeze bag with a Smart Flow spout, whatever the heck that was.

  “Think I’ll cut the kid a break.” He tossed in a container of vanilla pudding mixed with bananas. “That should be good, right?”

  “I’d like it…I think,” Molly said.

  “You know what, though? Tucker always breaks out in a rash when he eats bananas. Do you think Jax will?”

  “He might.”

  With a sigh, Brant returned the pudding to the shelf. “It shouldn’t be this hard to buy groceries for a baby.”

  They moved to the diaper section, and Brant groaned. “So does Jax need supersoft swaddlers or sensitive swaddlers?” He moved on to the next box. “Or maybe this twelve-hour protection that promises to keep him snug and dry for that long? That would cut down on the diaper changes.”

  He glanced at Jax, who had found a piece of lint on his blanket that fascinated him. “I don’t think so. These must be for older kids with more bladder control.”

  “Actually,” Molly said, looking more closely at the boxes, “I think they’re sized by weight.”

  “Okay, that makes it easier.”

  “Do you know how much he weighs?”

  “A little less than a car tire, so I’d say about seventeen, eighteen pounds.”

  “Seriously? That’s how you figure weight?”

  “Hey, I’m a car man. It’s what I do.” His shoulders slouched. “Give me a rusted-out car, and I can make the thing sing. Yet standing here in the baby aisle, I’m practically paralyzed for fear of screwing up.” He tipped his head and scanned the ceiling. “If somebody’s watching this on camera, you have my permission to laugh your butt off.”

  Behind him, an elderly lady, one hand cupped behind her ear, said, “What’s that? Couldn’t hear you.”

  He rubbed his tired eyes and, refusing to meet Molly’s, swallowed a laugh. “I said I need some butter.”

  “You’re in the wrong aisle, honey.”

  “I sure am. You have a good day.”

  “You too.” She laid a wrinkled, age-spotted hand on Jax’s cheek. “Your daddy’s a good-lookin’ guy, isn’t he? So are you.” After a little pat, she wheeled her cart away.

  Brant watched her go. “I’ve always heard grocery stores and babies were women magnets, but that sweet, hard-of-hearing octogenarian isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

  Then he smiled and turned to her. “You still willing to go to Savannah and spend your day off with us?”

  “I am—but don’t forget, you owe me lunch.” She eyed the shelves of formula. “Do you know which of these he drinks?”

  Brant whipped out his phone and brought up the picture he’d taken of the empty container.

  They added it, along with baby wipes, no-tears shampoo, and a couple new bottles to the jumble around Jax.

  Molly handed him a bottle brush. “Don’t forget to wash those bottles before you use them.”

  “I won’t. Maybe I can take them in the shower, too.”

  “What?” Her brow furrowed.

  “Never mind.”

  “I need to stop at the deli,” Molly said. What she really needed was some space between herself and Brant Wylder for a few minutes. He was—spectacular. He was so…so male.

  He tagged along behind her. Swinging around, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Going to the deli.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need lunch meat.” He waved a hand at his cart. “All this is for Jax. I need food, too.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled.

  “Hey, Molly.” A tall, older woman stood behind the counter, her white hair tucked under a net cap.

  “How are you today, Ms. Ella?”

  “Ah, my darned lumbago’s acting up, but other than that, I ain’t got nothin’ to complain about. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like a quarter pound of chipped ham, please.”

  Behind Molly, Jax started fussing. Brant patted his back, whispering to him, and the baby practically burrowed into his chest.

  She heard a huge sigh. Ella leaned on the counter, staring moon-eyed at Brant.

  “Is there anything sexier than a big, strong man holding a baby?”

  “No.” Molly let out a sigh of her own. “Unfortunately there’s not.”
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  *

  After they separated, Molly made quick work of her shopping. When Brant finished his, he met her at the front of the store.

  “Want to follow me home?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  His low-timbered voice set off warning bells in Molly, and she knew he knew exactly what he was doing. The man was walking testosterone, and that slow grin? Whew. In a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that fit exactly right, dark glasses, and a backward ball cap, Brant Wylder pushed every single one of her buttons.

  Then she glanced at Jax and laughed out loud. “Where did he get that?”

  “The magazine aisle. I thought we could both use one.”

  The baby, now wearing a bright-red ball cap with the brim to the side, giggled.

  “The kid’s got NASCAR in his blood. I’d rather have an A. J. Allmendinger hat, but no luck.”

  “He’s the driver you follow?”

  “Yep. All the way. You a racing fan?” he asked.

  “Me? No, but my dad is. He was a huge Rusty Wallace fan and practically went into mourning when Rusty retired. I’m not sure who he roots for now.”

  “How can you not know that?”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t see him often.”

  “Okay.” Curiosity, quickly banked, had flared in his eyes. “Bristol’s my favorite race. My brothers and I never miss it. In fact, we already have our tickets for next year. I’ll get the kid an A. J. hat there if I don’t find one before.” He jiggled his keys, then quickly hid them behind his back when Jax reached for them. “Can’t have those for a few more years, bud.”

  “Are you wearing jeans to the hospital?”

  “Yep. I know you’re used to seeing me in a tux, but that’s not me. This is. The Wylder brothers? Rugged. Manly.”

  “I know.”

  He cocked a brow. “How?”

  “Your hands are working hands.” She took one, turned it in hers, and ran a finger along it.

  Catching an edge of unease in his eyes, she pressed her palm over his much larger one. “I like them. This is the hand of a man who protects, who fixes.”

  He folded his fingers over hers.

  “You know where I live in case we get separated?”

  “No.”

  “I live above my shop. That Little White Dress.”

  “Across from the wine and cheese shop?”

  “Right.”

  “Short commute.”

  “I like it.”

  “Think I’ll stop by the inn and drop off the stuff I won’t need. Fortunately, Annabelle put minifridges in the rooms.”

  “Okay. See you in a few.” She left him cramming the pile of supplies into his trunk.

  *

  Molly hit the house debating on whether to change clothes before or after she put away her groceries. Vanity won. She dumped her bags on the table and flew into her bedroom. What to wear? Her ruthlessly organized closet held work clothes on one side and casual wear on the other. Today called for something in between.

  She stripped off her sweats and slid into a pair of black jeans. The faded sweatshirt went into the hamper. Riffling through her choices, she considered several tops before deciding on a supersoft, lightweight sweater in pale blue. The longer sleeves might feel good in the hospital. Since the top had a scoop neck, she added a gold double-chain necklace with several dangly stars, then thought better of it and removed this magnet for little fingers.

  While she swiped fresh mascara over her lashes—since she didn’t have fabulous ones like Brant and Jax—the doorbell rang. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

  “What am I doing, Bubbles? Did I offer to go with him because he needs help or because I find him fascinating? And isn’t that scary?”

  The cat made a low, purring sound and twisted around her ankle.

  The bell rang again.

  Too late to question why now.

  *

  Brant watched as Molly, with a huge white cat trailing in her wake, took her own sweet time walking down the stairs toward them. The black jeans and soft-looking sweater she’d changed into practically had him drooling.

  “Hey, Brant.”

  The second she opened the door, the cat whirled and sprinted up the stairs.

  She grimaced. “That was Bubbles, who is by now cowering under the bed.” She leaned in and gave the baby a kiss. “Hello, sweetie. I’m almost ready. Why don’t you come up while I finish? I’ve got a few perishables to put away, then I’m good to go.”

  The baby in his arms, Brant followed her upstairs to an apartment filled with light. “Blue is a great color for you.”

  She blushed. “Thanks. I have a thing for it.”

  “Yeah, I see that.” He had a nearly overwhelming urge to drop a quick kiss on her pert nose.

  Her apartment, simple yet comfortable, seemed so…Molly, with old pine floors, big windows, the feminine touches. “My mother would go bonkers over this place.”

  With Jax balanced on his hip, Brant followed her into the eat-in kitchen—again, light and airy. A huge set of doors with transom windows above took up an entire wall and led to a stunning deck. A girlie-to-the-max crystal chandelier hung over the table. Everything except the pink flowers on the table was either blue or white. The space fit her perfectly, yet strangely enough, he didn’t feel out of place in the middle of it all.

  He nodded toward the living room. “Will your cat bother the baby if I put him down on a blanket?”

  “No. She won’t come out till you’re gone. Then she’ll slink around the room’s edges until she’s satisfied the enemy has left.”

  “Good to know.” He plunked Jax down in the center of a spread baby blanket. Kneeling, Brant walked his fingers from the baby’s belly to his chin and grinned at the giggle. Handing him a rattle, he said, “Here you go. Chew on this.”

  Returning to the kitchen, he watched as she dispatched the groceries into a spartan pantry and fridge. Food didn’t appear to be high on Molly’s priority list. Everything in them, though, had a very precise and exact spot, including the Oreos, which were a surprise. Maybe one of these nights they could share a couple along with ice-cold glasses of milk.

  He peeked around the corner to check on Jax, who’d kept up a constant stream of gibberish. The kid was happy. The cat was nowhere in sight.

  Gazing back at Molly, he watched a big bunch of broccoli disappear into her crisper. That, he decided, she could eat by herself. She kept her home the way he kept his shop. His house, though? A little more relaxed.

  Before she closed the fridge door, she asked, “Want something cold to drink?”

  “You have water?”

  “I do.” She handed him a bottle and took another for herself. Then she hefted her purse to her shoulder. “Ready if you are.”

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  Two steps into the living room, he stopped so quickly, she bumped into him.

  “Whoops, sorry,” she said.

  “Would you look at that?”

  Molly peered around his shoulder.

  Jax was on all fours. A little wobbly, he crawled a couple of inches before collapsing.

  “Wait till I tell Lainey.”

  The baby rose again, an ear-to-ear grin on his face, and Brant grabbed his phone from a back pocket and videoed him as he moved toward them. He turned his head to show Molly, and they nearly grazed lips.

  If he leaned in, would she spook and shy away, or would she meet him?

  He didn’t get to find out, as she stepped back.

  “I think he’s got that pretty well down pat. You do know what that means? Nothing will be safe, and you’re really going to have to keep an eye on him. No more finding him where you leave him.”

  “Yeah.” His stomach churned. So much to think about, to remember.

  *

  In no time, they were on the road to Savannah. Jax, true to form, fell fast asleep the minute the car wheels started to turn.

  “See?” Brant jerked his chin t
oward the rearview mirror. “I swear, if I could drive him around all night, he’d put in a full eight hours of sleep.”

  “Hire a chauffeur.”

  He snorted.

  “Or not. You need one of those plug-in swings. If it’s the motion that puts him to sleep, that might work the same as a car.”

  “Not a bad idea. Or maybe I can get my hands on one of Ford’s concept cribs. They’ve got it all figured out. You get the sound of the engine, the motion of the car, and LEDs to simulate nighttime city lights.”

  “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “Nope.” He picked up his smartphone. “And it’s all controlled by an app on this.”

  “I want one,” Molly said. “Might be good for insomniac nights.”

  Brant waggled his brows. “I can help with that.”

  She grinned. “I’ll just bet you can.”

  Because the day had turned beautiful, they cracked their windows a couple of inches. It felt good, almost too good, considering the reason for the trip. Guilt nagged at Brant.

  He felt her watching him. “What?”

  “What happened to your sister wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why are you scowling?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Seriously? I’m sitting here beside you, and believe me, that expression would have intimidated even Genghis Khan.”

  “Molly—”

  She shook her head and held up a hand. “Not my business.” Then she drew in a deep breath. “I know this isn’t any of my business, either, but I can’t help but wonder. Where’s Jax’s daddy?”

  “Jason? Who knows?” Brant rested his right hand on the gearshift knob. “When Lainey got pregnant, my folks pitched a fit and demanded she and Dimwit get married.” He sighed. “I never did think that was a good idea, but in the end it didn’t matter. The night before the wedding, Jason bolted. Lainey was devastated, and my mom and dad were heartbroken for her. He never even showed up when Jax was born, has never laid eyes on his son. What kind of man behaves like that?”

  “A real jerk. Unfortunately, there are a lot of them out there.” Molly thought of her own father. He’d hung around longer than Jax’s daddy, but he’d walked just the same.

  Brant threw her a sideways glance. “There’s more.” He spilled it all: Lainey’s teenage drinking problem, her rehab and five years of sobriety, and the DUI that caused her accident. “So we’ve got a lot on our plate.”