Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  She and Jax moved into the shade. Sprawled beneath a tree, they watched the guys’ progress. A wall went down, and Jax flinched at the noise.

  “Time we headed home, isn’t it?” When the guys stopped for a water break, she sidled up to Brant. “How about I take Jax with me while you finish here?”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Lettie’s at the shop. Between the two of us, we should be good.”

  “Thanks, Mol.” He cupped a hand beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. “I’m glad you came today, helped us knock down these walls. Someday we’ll look back at this and say, ‘Remember when.’”

  Molly blinked. This was his first mention of a future. How did she feel about it? Happy? Sad? She honestly didn’t know.

  “One small problem. I don’t have a car.”

  “Take mine.”

  “Your Camaro?”

  “Sure.” He fished the keys from his pocket.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” He met her eyes. “I trust you.”

  She went brain-dead for all of three seconds. Breathlessly, she said, “I’ll take good care of it. Of both your babies.”

  “Let me help with his car seat. It’s a real bugger.” After he strapped the baby in, he pulled her close, kissed her gently.

  “Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Tugging on the neck of his T-shirt, she drew him to her. “One more.”

  This kiss was far from gentle. Its heat nearly melted the enamel off her teeth.

  “Till later.”

  She nodded, unable to form words.

  A sleepy baby in the back seat and a diaper bag beside her, Molly pulled Brant’s Camaro onto the two-lane road. She didn’t dare meet her own eyes in the rearview mirror for fear of what she might see there.

  *

  Traffic was light on the street outside her shop the next morning. Brant and his brothers had collected Jax and his car a little before six the previous night. They’d offered to include her in dinner, but she’d opted out. They needed time together—and she needed some time alone.

  Still, Brant had sent another text just before bedtime. One that gave her some very pleasant dreams.

  Molly lit several vanilla candles for both the scent and the ambience, then checked to make sure everything was in place and spotlessly clean. Lettie wouldn’t be in today, so she had the shop to herself.

  She’d barely turned the sign to Open when two women breezed through the door, talking and laughing. “Good morning. Welcome to That Little White Dress. How can I help you today?”

  “Hi. I’m Dawn Brower, and this is Starr. Shelly Clark, one of our best friends, is getting married, and we need a phenomenal shower gift. Something that will make everyone else jealous they didn’t buy it for her.”

  “Shelly found her dress here,” Molly said. “She’ll be a beautiful bride!”

  Eyeing the gowns on the rack, Starr nodded. “She mentioned you have some really great lingerie. We thought maybe we’d buy a set for her.”

  “Wonderful idea. Let me show you what I have.”

  “You, uh, know her size, right?” Dawn asked.

  “I do.”

  Half an hour later, the decision made, Molly gift-wrapped the red lace underwire bra and matching tap panties. The door had barely closed behind Dawn and Starr when the bell jingled again.

  “Be right there,” she called from the back room.

  “No hurry.”

  She recognized that voice.

  “Dad?” Dropping the empty box she’d been folding onto the counter, she hurried into her showroom. “I was thinking about you this morning.”

  “Oh yeah?” He flicked a glance at her, then turned his gaze to the store and its merchandise. “Came to check out my investment.”

  “Want me to get the books?”

  “That would be great.”

  Heading for the back room, she stopped. “What NASCAR driver do you follow now? Since Rusty retired?”

  He frowned. “Where’d that come from?”

  She shrugged, not wanting to explain the need to know her own father better, to feel their old connection.

  “I was following Junior, but the kid decided to retire.”

  “Junior? Rusty’s son?”

  Her father guffawed. “No, honey, not Rusty’s kid. Dale Earnhardt Jr. You do know who he is, don’t you?”

  “Yes. He’s done some commercials. Jeans, soda, insurance.”

  “Sure has. Earned himself some nice change with them, too. I kind of like Matt Kenseth. The kid’s good, and he drives clean.”

  “Okay.” She vowed to look up Kenseth to find out what she could about him. It would give them something to talk about. “Do you want something to drink, Dad?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll have lunch later, then head back to Savannah.”

  The day’s happy bubble burst. He hadn’t come to see her, to tell her he’d missed her. He wanted to make sure his money was safe, not his daughter.

  *

  Brant and his brothers worked their butts off, determined to make as much headway as possible before Tucker and Gaven returned to Lake Delores. They’d argued and haggled and finally decided on the best layout for their new space. Darlene’s niece volunteered to babysit Jax for a few days so he wouldn’t be exposed to the dusty construction zone.

  From the second they dropped the baby off until it was time to pick him up again, the brothers sweat buckets at their new Wylder Rides shop.

  But today they decided to take a lunch break rather than eat while they worked. Tucker and Gaven headed to the house, while Brant shook off the dust and washed up, determined to sneak in a visit to a good-looking brunette. If he managed to grab a bite while he was in town, so much the better.

  The sign said Closed, but the door was unlocked. “Molly?”

  He found her in the back room, eyes red, tear tracks down her cheeks.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He wrapped his arms around her, and she practically burrowed in. “Is someone sick? Hurt?”

  She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “No, I’m being a baby.”

  “I seriously doubt that. What happened?”

  “I was sitting on my deck this morning, thinking about your sister and her situation. My mind travelled to my parents and their divorce, and I wondered if maybe it had been harder for my dad than I realized.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  “Okay.” Brant tread carefully, not sure where this was headed.

  “A little bit ago, my shop door opened and there he was. My dad. I thought he’d come for a visit, but he’d come to check the books.” She swiped at her eyes again. “You’d think I’d learn.”

  Clutching his shirt, she whispered, “Somewhere, somehow, I let him down.”

  “No, Molly, he let you down.” Brant hugged her tighter. “Honey, you got caught up in an adult situation. You became collateral damage. You have no ownership in what happened between your mother and father.”

  “That’s what my mom said, but—”

  “But nothing. What’s your dad say?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve never discussed it.”

  Brant snarled. His parents had always had his back, with love. Not much wonder, Molly wasn’t in a hurry to commit to anyone. Yet here she was selling dreams to others.

  The woman amazed him.

  “Where’s Lettie?”

  “She has today off.”

  He nodded and held her for a while longer. “Listen, I’m running out for lunch. What would you like?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bzzzz. Wrong answer.”

  She smiled crookedly. “A grilled cheese on white.”

  “You got it.”

  Brant left Molly’s shop with a grim determination to track down her father. The prick hadn’t even asked her to join him for a sandwich. It seemed Jason had someone breathing down his neck for the “Worst Father of the Year” award.

  Since Dee-Ann’s was the closest lunch spot,
Brant steamed toward it. The minute he walked in, he recognized Mr. Stiles, who was sitting by the window in his expensive shirt and well-creased pants, his shoes shined to within an inch of their lives. He resembled Molly. Or rather, Brant corrected, Molly resembled him. The hair, the color of the eyes. But while her eyes held kindness and passion, her father’s conveyed indifference.

  Dee-Ann waved to him. “Have a seat, Brant, and I’ll be right with you.”

  He nodded and walked over to Stiles’s table.

  The man looked up, startled, when Brant slid into the chair across from him.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Not yet.” Brant kept his voice level and folded his hands on the table.

  Dee-Ann set a glass of sweet tea in front of him. “What’ll you have?”

  “Burger. Medium well and loaded. I’ll need a grilled cheese on white, too. Both to go. I’m having lunch with Molly so she doesn’t have to eat alone. She’s a little rattled today.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brant saw Stiles go on alert.

  Concern filled the older woman’s eyes. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “I’d say you could ask this guy, but I doubt you’d get an answer.”

  Mr. Stiles looked confused.

  Dee-Ann glanced from one man to the other. “Everything okay here?”

  A muscle twitched in Brant’s jaw. “Yeah, we’re good. Can’t say I have too much respect, though, for a man who drives from Savannah to Misty Bottoms and then can’t be bothered to invite his daughter to lunch.”

  Mr. Stiles tossed his half-eaten Reuben onto the plate and leaned toward Brant. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Want me to call Sam?” Dee-Ann asked. “Deputy DeLuca left here not more than a few minutes ago.”

  “No. We’re fine.” Brant threw her a smile. “Why don’t you get those sandwiches together? Molly’s dad and I are gonna have a little talk.”

  “Molly’s dad?” Dee-Ann squinted at him. “Thought you looked familiar.” She looked back at Brant. “You let me know if you need anything—anything,” she said.

  “Got you. Thanks.” Taking a quick look around the diner, he saw only two tables occupied on the other side of the room. Good. This talk was best done without an audience.

  He turned back to Stiles. Keeping his voice low and controlled, he held up a finger. “First off, Molly doesn’t know I’m here.” He held up a second finger. “Second, I’ll admit I’m probably crossing a line.” Another finger popped up. “But third, you’re a real jackass.”

  Red crept up from beneath the collar of that crisp shirt and spread over the older man’s face. “I hate to repeat myself, but who are you?”

  “Brant Wylder, a friend of your daughter.”

  Stiles said nothing for a few seconds. “That still doesn’t explain why you come slamming in here, all but crawling up my butt.”

  “You hurt Molly. I don’t know why, and I guess that’s none of my business, but when you walked out on her and her mom, you owed her an explanation. You owed her your time and love, too. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been pretty stingy with both.”

  When Mr. Stiles started to interrupt, Brant shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m talking, you’re listening. You waltzed into her shop this morning, a shop she’s poured herself into, a shop that’s incredible, and didn’t bother to ask about her or tell her how fantastic that shop is. Instead, you wanted to look at the books. Then”—Brant stopped for a breath—“you left her to eat alone instead of spending an hour with that amazing woman. You left her wondering yet again how she’d failed you.”

  This time Stiles’s mouth dropped open. “Molly has never failed me.”

  “Have you ever told her that?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “I don’t need to. She knows it.”

  Brant shook his head slowly.

  “The girl’s never, ever let me down,” Stiles spat out between gritted teeth.

  “Molly thinks you left your marriage because of her.” Brant recognized he was telling tales out of school, but without some outside interference, nothing would ever change between father and daughter. If she hated him for sticking his nose in, well, he’d have to learn to live with it—or change her mind.

  Stiles raised his coffee for a drink, and the cup wobbled. “I had no idea.”

  “You do now, so the question becomes what are you going to do about it?” With that, he pushed back his chair and walked to the counter. “I’m starving, Dee-Ann. My burger ready?”

  She hustled out of the kitchen, bag in hand. “Right here.”

  He threw her a wink and a very generous tip, knowing she’d given him extra time to finish his business. “Thanks. You’re a special lady.”

  He walked past Molly’s father without so much as a glance and headed out the door and down the street to another very special lady.

  Chapter 15

  Without even opening her eyes, Molly nudged Bubbles. “Let me sleep, baby.”

  She rolled over, her back to the cat.

  “Meow.” Bubbles tapped the side of Molly’s face.

  “Five more minutes. Please.”

  Bubbles head-butted her.

  Molly pried open an eye. Morning light streamed through the window.

  “Oh no!” Jumping out of bed, she hugged the cat. “Good girl. I forgot to set the alarm!”

  Bubbles squirmed free and trailed in Molly’s wake as she rushed into the bathroom.

  Around her toothbrush, she muttered, “It’s Brant’s fault. He doesn’t leave room in my head for anything else.” When the cat meowed again, Molly said, “I know, and I really hate that he caught me during my meltdown. Then he offered a sympathetic ear—and brought me lunch.”

  She sighed and set down her toothbrush. Those darned texts he sent every night at bedtime didn’t help, either. Without breaking a sweat, the man had worked his way into her life.

  How did she fight it?

  More important, did she want to?

  “Maybe I’ll take a ride after work, Bubbles. If I happen to drive past the new Wylder Rides shop and Brant happens to be there…”

  A quick shower later, she put on mascara and lip gloss and arranged her hair into a loose, low bun. She tossed on sleek black slacks with a long-sleeved black top, low-heeled pumps, silver earrings, and a funky necklace. Good to go.

  Coffee in hand, she practically flew down the steps. Lettie would be here any minute, and Molly could grab her go-to yogurt then.

  Instead, she’d barely turned on the lights when a couple showed up.

  “Good morning!” She held the door for them. “How are you today?”

  “We’re wonderful,” the beaming woman said.

  The large man beside her, a silly grin on his face, nodded. Molly sized him up. Six five and two eighty, maybe. Wow.

  “I’m guessing you’re not from Misty Bottoms, are you?”

  “No, ma’am, we’re from Atlanta.” The giant, his voice deep and smooth, slid his hand over the woman’s. “We stayed at Annabelle’s last night.”

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? A friend of mine has two brothers staying there.”

  “The Wylders?”

  That stopped her. “Yes.”

  “Told you that was them!” The guy elbowed his companion. “I recognized them from TV. Man, they do some kind of work. They’ve got magic hands when it comes to cars.”

  Heat crept up Molly’s chest and neck. At least one of them had magic hands when it came to other things, too.

  “Do you know why they’re here?”

  Molly hesitated, then decided what the heck. Since most of the town already knew their plans, it wouldn’t be long before word spread. “They’re renovating an old service station for a new shop here in Misty Bottoms. I think, though, Tucker and Gaven left late last night or early this morning.”

  “That’s why we didn’t see them at breakfast.” He hugged the woman beside him. “Baby, I’ve got to have them do my ride for me.”

  “Why
don’t we talk about today first, sweetie?”

  “You bet.” He turned to Molly. “This is a little unconventional, but we’d like to get married.”

  Molly couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Most of the people who walk through my door want exactly that.”

  “Today.”

  She choked on the laugh. “Today?”

  The outside door opened and closed. Lettie stood a step inside, purse in hand. From her wide-eyed expression, it was clear she’d overheard the conversation.

  “Do you think Mrs. Bryson can fit us in?”

  “You want to get married at Magnolia House. Today.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She studied the pair. “You’re serious?”

  They grinned at each other. The bride-to-be said, “Very. It might be impromptu, but we want it all. The dress, the cake, the flowers.” She sighed. “A beautiful venue.”

  “Today.” Molly knew she was repeating herself, but holy Toledo. Today?

  “Today.” Looking slightly embarrassed, the groom shuffled his feet. “Guess you don’t recognize me.” He held up a hand. “Not that you should, and that’s exactly why we’re here.”

  Molly turned to Lettie. “Do you know him?”

  “Nope.” Lettie shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “This beautiful woman is DeVonne Maxwell.”

  The ladies nodded to each other, then he held out a hand the size of a turkey platter. “Tyrone Sterling. I play for the Atlanta Falcons.”

  “Football,” Molly murmured as they shook.

  “Yeah. DeVonne and I planned to do this next spring, but the whole thing has gotten totally out of hand. We want this to be our wedding. We want it to be about us. Instead, it’s turned into a three-ring circus.”

  “So we’re running away,” DeVonne said. “That being said, I still want a wedding to remember. Today’s the day we start our life together as husband and wife.” She drew a breath. “We’d like you to help us.”

  “Have you made arrangements with Jenni Beth at Magnolia House?”

  “No.”

  Oh boy. Molly’s mind raced. She had no appointments, so Lettie could cover the shop. What about Tansy, Cricket, and Jenni Beth, though? They could already be up to their elbows in obligations. And Magnolia House might be booked.