Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  Mystified, Brant peeked in the bag. “Baby monitors?”

  “They’re wireless. Put one by your bed and one by Jax’s crib. You’ll hear every noise he makes. You can sleep in your own room without worrying.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in for a kiss.

  When she stepped back, she blinked, speechless.

  Darlene chuckled. “I think you misrepresented certain things, Molly. Defibrillator, my butt. How about a fire hose?”

  “I don’t under—” Brant started.

  Sam held up a hand. “Let it be. Some things we’re better off not knowing.”

  Molly smiled, then gave Jax a big smooch. “You be good, okay?”

  Brant curled his fingers around Molly’s arm. “Why don’t you stay for lunch? I’ve got stuff for sandwiches, and we’ll run you into town later.”

  She made the mistake of glancing toward Darlene, who threw her a wink and a thumbs-up.

  “What am I missing here?” Brant’s gaze moved between the two.

  “I’m telling you, don’t ask,” Sam warned again.

  “I’d love to, Brant,” Molly said. “I really would, but I have to open my shop. Can I take a rain check?”

  “Sure. How about a movie here tonight? With popcorn.”

  “She’d love that,” Darlene said. “She’ll see you at six.”

  “Darlene!”

  “Well, you would love it, so stop beating around the bush. The boy’s offered to entertain you. Let him. For heaven’s sakes, enjoy each other. Have some fun. Let the future take care of itself.”

  Sam started toward his truck. “You children have fun.” He slapped a hand on his thigh and opened the passenger door. “Come on, Hobo. Hop in.”

  With a wave over his shoulder, Sam rounded the truck and slid into the driver’s side. He tooted his horn and was gone.

  *

  When Darlene pulled up in front of That Little White Dress, Molly threw her arms around the older woman. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Glad I could do it. And those monitors were a good idea. The man could use some sleep.” Darlene took Molly’s hand in hers. “Enjoy tonight. Regardless of what happens, the sun will still come up tomorrow.”

  “You’re right.” Molly grabbed her purse and hopped out.

  Moonshine and Mint Julep yapped from the back seat. Molly reached through the open window and gave each a head pat, careful not to muss their bows.

  Unlocking her door, she sprinted up the stairs. Since Hobo, Moonshine, and Mint Julep had all contributed, she wore enough dog hair on her skirt to carpet the boutique. Stepping out of it, she promised to attack it with the lint brush later. Not now, though. Glancing at the clock, she slid into black cigarette pants and a long-sleeved pullover. She slicked her hair back into a ponytail and added a simple silver necklace. A touch of lipstick and she called it done.

  “’Bye, Bubbles. I’m off to work. Again.”

  Downstairs, she hit the lights and flipped the sign to Open. In the back room, she dug a yogurt from her fridge and, leaning against the counter, made fast work of it. Not the same as sandwiches with Brant, but it would do.

  Fortified, she headed to the front of the shop.

  The door opened, and a woman in her late sixties breezed in.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning to you, too, dear. I’m Lettie Dowmeyer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Molly took her offered hand. “How can I help you?”

  “By giving me a job.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Honey, I’m sittin’ home bored silly while you’re runnin’ this place all by yourself. Last I heard, you’ve got a gal over in Rincon doin’ your alterations.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It’s Lettie, please. I’m a seamstress—an excellent seamstress, and that’s the truth, not braggadocio. I worked at a bridal shop in Savannah, so I’ve dealt with my share of high-strung brides. Clerked there, too, so times you need to be gone—like this mornin’—I can keep the store open for you.”

  Molly opened her mouth, then closed it again. A steamroller had just barreled through her door.

  “My kids are grown, my grandkids too busy for me, and my husband is drivin’ me crazy. Now that he’s retired, he’s home all day doing nothin’. I love him, but I need some time away. My gettin’ a job here’s the perfect answer. For both you and me.”

  “I’ve considered hiring someone, but—”

  “You don’t know me, don’t know if you can trust me to do right by your gowns and customers. Understood.” She dug in her purse and came out with a handful of letters, which she thrust at Molly. “These are from people I’ve sewn for, people right here in Misty Bottoms.”

  Baffled, Molly took the references. Since she’d thought about hiring help only in an abstract way, she didn’t even have an application form. But she liked Lettie. She might be exactly what the shop needed…if she could indeed sew.

  “Tell you what,” Lettie said. “I’ve caught you off guard. Why don’t we agree on a trial? If, at the end of a week, I’m not what you need, I’m out of here. No questions and no hard feelings.”

  Molly studied the older woman. With her puff of white hair, electric-blue glasses, and conservative strand of pearls, she looked like somebody’s favorite grandma, a grandma made for hugs. And her smile was absolutely contagious.

  She should read the letters, then make a couple of calls. Be smart about this.

  “When can you start?”

  “Right now. Even brought my lunch.” She patted an oversized purse, then pointed at Molly. “I can’t do that, though.”

  “What?” She looked down at herself.

  “Wear black. I’ve been by the shop a few times and noticed you’re always in head-to-toe black. Me? I like color.”

  “Hmm. I wear black so I don’t compete with the bride, with the quintessential bridal white.” She chewed her lower lip. “No white, but I guess other colors would be okay. Pastels might be a problem, though.”

  Lettie laughed. “No pastels for me. I like bold.”

  Molly nodded. The fire-engine-red dress Lettie wore today packed a real punch. It might work. Besides, she’d spend most of her time in the back doing alterations rather than working the floor. “Let’s give it a try.”

  Life dropped little gifts into your lap once in a while, and Molly believed Lettie Dowmeyer would prove to be one of those. She grinned.

  She had an assistant.

  *

  By the end of the day, Lettie had sold a negligee set and hemmed a slip for one of their brides. Molly had planned to call the seamstress in Rincon and run the slip over tomorrow after closing. Now she wouldn’t need to make the trip.

  She waved goodbye to Lettie and locked the door. What a day. She’d treated herself to breakfast at Sweet Dreams, Brant had baby furniture, and she’d hired her first employee. On top of that, she’d enjoyed her time with Darlene and Sam. Moving here had been the right choice. So had hiring Lettie.

  Since she had movie plans with two handsome guys, Molly hustled upstairs for a quick shower. Wrapped in a robe, she fed Bubbles and grabbed a sandwich for herself. Then she slid into jeans and a soft yellow blouse. Halfway out the door, she raced back upstairs and switched on a small lamp.

  “I won’t be gone long, baby. But if I am, you’re to be in bed by ten, got it?”

  The cat meowed and wandered off to find trouble.

  Molly hoped she’d find a little of her own.

  *

  When she knocked on Brant’s screen door, the scene was almost shockingly domestic.

  Jax, safely ensconced in his playpen, banged on an old pan with a wooden spoon. The second he spotted her, he grinned and discarded his toys to crawl toward her.

  “Come on in,” Brant called. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be right there. Just saying hello to Jax.” She leaned in for a couple of noisy kisses.

  “Yeah, the kid’s always
stealing the spotlight.”

  She started to laugh, but it stuck in her throat when she stepped into the next room. A tea towel slung over one shoulder, another tucked into the waist of his jeans, Brant stood at the sink washing baby bottles. Reaching for the doorjamb, she watched him. What was there about a man in the kitchen that kicked up the heat?

  He turned and smiled, his dimples winking. “Hungry? I should’ve offered dinner tonight.”

  “No, I ate.”

  Laying the bottle brush in the drainer, he crossed to her. “Sorry, but I have to do this or die.”

  With that, his lips captured hers. Changing the angle slightly, he went deeper. Tongues dancing, bodies touching, he groaned, an inherently male sound. He pulled back and dropped his forehead to hers. “I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s only been a few hours.”

  “Four very, very long hours.”

  “Did the baby give you trouble?”

  “No. You did. The smell of you in the house, the echo of your voice, your laughter.”

  “Brant—”

  “I know. Nothin’ serious. But babe, you’re messing with my head.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “Somehow that makes it harder to deal with.” He ran his hands down her arms, laced his fingers with hers. “How was your day?”

  Tingles zipped from her fingers and sizzled through her entire body. “It started off great. I helped deliver baby furniture to a gorgeous hunk!”

  “Oh yeah?” He grinned and ran the tip of one finger down the side of her face, along her jaw. “Did this grand specimen of a male thank you sufficiently?”

  “Well, there were other people around, so he was kind of shy about that. I got the feeling, though, if I could catch him alone, he—”

  The kiss, hot and searing, stole her breath. Where the first kiss had started slowly and built, this one was impatient, insistent. By the time he drew away, she wasn’t sure which end was up.

  “Okay.” He exhaled.

  “Might I second that emotion,” she said. “And you’re welcome. Very.”

  Molly toyed with the top button on his shirt. “I hired an assistant this afternoon.” She frowned. “Maybe she hired me.”

  His forehead creased. “What?”

  “I’m not sure exactly how it happened. I opened the door, and Lettie sort of blew in. Kind of like Mary Poppins. She had that same take-charge air about her.”

  “Did you check her references?”

  She slid his button through the hole, then buttoned it again. “Not exactly.”

  His brow lifted.

  “She gave me some letters of recommendation, but I hired her before I read them.”

  “Why?”

  Molly lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. She felt right. Kind of like when you found the new spot for your business. We agreed on a one-week trial period.”

  “Okay, I—Shoot!” He ran toward the sink and turned off the water. “Good thing the water was just trickling. I forgot I put the stopper in.”

  “What’s that crunching noise?”

  Brant grimaced. “Macaroni.”

  She took a step back and heard another crunch. Sure enough, a crushed piece of macaroni was under her shoe.

  “Jax grabbed a box this afternoon and chewed on it. I figured it kept him busy, so no harm, no foul. Until he managed to gnaw a hole in it. Even without teeth, the kid’s like a beaver. Maybe the cardboard simply caved beneath all the slobber. Anyway, before I realized what he’d done, he was shaking the box, and macaroni flew all over.”

  She grinned.

  “You think it’s funny, huh?”

  “The mental image?” She tapped her forehead, her grin growing. “Yeah, I do.”

  “You have a sick sense of humor.” He scanned the floor. “I swept. Three times. Guess I missed a few pieces.”

  With a sad shake of her head, she said, “Finish up here. I’ll go play with the beaver.” Halfway out of the kitchen, she asked, “What are we watching?”

  “You have to ask?”

  She thought for a second. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Only one movie to watch today. It’s a Wylder family tradition.” He hesitated. “You do know what day it is, don’t you?”

  “February second.”

  “And?”

  “Movie day?”

  “No! It’s Groundhog Day.”

  She said nothing.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Groundhog Day. Bill Murray? Andie MacDowell?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat.” He rubbed his hands together in glee. “Up for it?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Yet another reason you’re my kind of girl.”

  Brant flopped on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table, the remote in his hand. “My cable isn’t on yet, but they promised it by tomorrow. Man was not meant to live without TV.”

  She tsked. “All those football games. Those NASCAR races.”

  “Thank heavens for the internet.”

  When she sank onto the sofa, Brant crooked his finger.

  “Come closer. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Seriously? Safe from what? Bill Murray? A groundhog?”

  “You never know.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” But she slid nearer, Jax perched on her lap, jabbering a mile a minute. “What do you think he’s saying?”

  “He’s crowing because he’s got the best seat in the house.” Brant draped an arm around her and Jax popped his thumb in his mouth, his head resting against her and his face tipped up to watch her. They looked like any young American family.

  It felt weird…and wonderful.

  Brant hit Play, and she got caught up in the movie.

  Ten minutes in, he nudged her. “Look at Jax. The kid’s taking it all in.”

  Sure enough, Jax was fixated on the screen.

  “My nephew’s a genius.”

  Molly simply shook her head.

  Half an hour later, the genius started fussing.

  “How about I get Jax ready for bed while you fix a bottle, then make that popcorn you promised me?” she asked.

  “I think I’m getting the short end of the stick.”

  “Yeah, but it’s your stick.”

  “True.”

  After drawing a couple of inches of water into the tub, she tested it to make sure it wasn’t too warm. She scooped Jax from the playpen and carried him into the bathroom. “Let’s take a bath, sweetheart. Won’t that be fun?”

  “Cut it out,” Brant called from the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “You’re teasing me. Setting off all kinds of pictures in my head. Not nice.”

  She laughed. “Uncle Brant can be kind of grumpy, can’t he?”

  The baby let out a stream of babble while she undressed him.

  “Oh, I do wish I knew what you were saying, child.”

  “He said you should take a bath—or a shower—with Uncle Brant to sweeten him up.”

  “In your dreams, big boy.”

  “You got that right.”

  “We’ll ignore Mr. Grump, Jax.”

  “I heard that.”

  “That was the point,” she called back, lowering Jax into the water.

  Happy splashing commenced immediately.

  “Ah! I should have worn a raincoat. Guess you’re a water baby, huh?”

  He let out a squeal and kicked his feet, laughing.

  “Oh, look, you have a rubber ducky.”

  “His name’s Ebenezer.”

  “Get out of here. Ebenezer?” She knelt by the tub, soaping the baby down with his special soap.

  “Every boy needs a pet.”

  “And Jax has Ebenezer,” she finished.

  “You got it.”

  With a lot of splashing and even more laughter, Molly managed to bathe Jax. She was afraid to hurry, because wet, he’d become a slippery little bugger. But she didn’t want him to catch cold, either.
/>   She looked up to find Brant leaning against the doorjamb watching, an odd expression on his face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just—nothing.”

  He walked back to the kitchen.

  She stared after him. Strange.

  Jax grabbed her hair.

  “Yes, I know.” She pat-a-caked his hands. “You want my attention, sweetie. But your uncle? A curious and complicated man.”

  Holding the sweet-smelling, hoodie-towel-wrapped baby close, she carried him into his room and dressed him in a clean diaper and pajamas.

  Brant had a bottle ready, so she sat in the rocker and cuddled Jax while she fed him. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evened out, and his little hand dropped from the bottle. Her throat constricted as she held the warm, sleeping baby. Nothing else had ever come close to this feeling.

  Very carefully, she carried him to his new crib, touching her lips lightly to his rosy cheek.

  Brant stood behind her, his green eyes forest-dark. She raised a finger to her lips, and he nodded.

  She stepped from the room, and he partially closed the door behind them.

  The room smelled of fresh popcorn and butter. Brant had turned off the bright overhead light, and the remaining small lamp gave the room an intimate air. Even the worn furniture and faded rug looked less shabby.

  “Ready to finish the movie?” She took a handful of popcorn and curled up on the lumpy sofa. Again, the normalcy of the scene struck her. The baby bathed, fed, and in bed, the lights low. The happy couple…

  Brant dropped down beside her.

  “You are going to let him sleep in his own room tonight, aren’t you?”

  He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “Probably, since someone set me up with a baby monitor. Why don’t you stay the night and keep me company?” he whispered against her ear. “Keep Uncle Brant from getting lonely.”

  She shivered as his breath caressed her skin. “So not going to happen, Wylder.”

  “Maybe I can convince you.”

  His lips moved along her neck, over her jaw, and up her face till she was desperate for them on her own lips. “Brant.”

  The kiss was heated, deep, and long, and arrowed to her core. She forgot all the reasons she shouldn’t give in as her entire body became one huge erogenous zone. Her blouse dropped to the floor under his clever fingers. His lips slid along her throat again, trailed lower until they found her breasts. Through the lace of her bra, his mouth closed over her, and she bowed up to meet him.