Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  “Sorry,” Molly said.

  “Me too.” Brant stuffed his hands in his worn-jeans pockets. “You’ll go?”

  “Against my better judgment.”

  “Since when did judgment have anything to do with it?” Tansy murmured.

  Molly scowled. “Whose side are you on?”

  Tansy flashed a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Me? Go on. Have fun.”

  “You’ll have to drive,” Brant said. “I came with those knuckleheads.”

  “Who are you calling a knucklehead?” Tucker challenged, strapping the baby into his seat.

  “What about Jax?” Molly asked.

  “Uncle Gaven will take him home and put him to bed.”

  “Me? I never said—”

  Molly didn’t miss a beat. “How nice of your brothers to give you a few hours off, considering you’ve had him for, what, two or three weeks by yourself?” She gave Tansy a hug. “We need to do this more often. Gracie Bella…” She opened her arms and the young girl threw herself into them.

  After a hug and a kiss, Molly said, “Next time, it’s Dairy Queen for that strawberry sundae.”

  “Hear that, Mama? Molly’s gonna buy me a sundae!” Gracie Bella clapped her hands.

  “Wonderful! We’d better get home. Daddy Beck’s going to wonder what happened to us.”

  Gracie Bella’s smile disappeared, and she placed her little hands on either side of her mother’s face. “Nothing happened to us, Mama. We’re right here.”

  Tansy laughed. “Yes, we are, oh literal one. Don’t forget your sweater.” Molly’s friend winked at her. “Have a good time. And Molly, listen to your heart. Let it talk to you.”

  Chapter 17

  In the parking lot, Molly waited while Brant planted another kiss on Jax and issued an admonition to be good for his uncles, along with an apology for the fumbles they’d make. “They mean well, Jax. Be kind to them.”

  “Maybe you should take him home, BT.” Gaven threw an arm around Molly and winked. “I’ll take our girl out for a drink, and you’d better believe I won’t fumble that.”

  “She’s not our girl, sonny boy.” Brant smacked him playfully upside the head. “Hands off.”

  “She your girl?” Gaven asked.

  Molly held her breath.

  Instead of answering, Brant said, “You’ve got my number if you need me.”

  “Get out of here,” Tucker said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, if they only knew,” Brant said as he and Molly walked toward her car. The night was soft and the only sounds were the ones drifting from the restaurant. He took her hand in his and pointed up at the stars. “The Big Dipper. I love the night.”

  “Me too. I spend a lot of them on the deck, wrapped up in an afghan, enjoying hot cocoa. Bubbles usually keeps my feet warm.”

  They reached her car, and he opened the door. As she made to get in, he bent down and sent a shiver through her as his lips touched her cheek. Oh boy. She needed to breathe or she’d pass out and miss whatever tonight might bring.

  She filled her lungs with cool air.

  When Brant slid into the passenger seat, Molly’s palms grew damp. Tucked inside her Mini together, darned if first-date jitters didn’t set in. Except it wasn’t actually a date, she reminded herself. He’d asked her out for a beer—and only because they’d run into each other. It wasn’t as if he’d planned it.

  Still, she wished she’d worn something more exciting. Prettier. Sexier.

  *

  Duffy’s was packed.

  Brant closed the door behind him and whistled low. “They givin’ away free drinks or something?”

  “It’s the only place in town for music.”

  He eyed her. “Sweetheart, it’s not really music. It’s a jukebox.”

  Sweetheart. Whew. Her belly did a little flip. He’d called her that before. Heck, he called everybody that. Well, some people. A few people. And she was rattled. Somehow, tonight, with only the two of them, that sweetheart sounded different, felt different, and she’d kill for a drink. Her mouth had gone Sahara dry.

  There was no baby, no Jax, as a buffer.

  “Molly?” One finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face up. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. And you’re right, it is only a jukebox, but it gives Duff’s customers a chance to dance.”

  His hand at the small of her back, Brant led Molly to a corner table.

  Binnie threaded her way through the crowd and handed them a menu. “What’ll you have to drink?”

  They both ordered beers, and Brant slid the menus back to her. “We ate at one of your competitors.”

  Binnie tsked. “Sorry you had to put up with subpar food.”

  Brant flashed a grin.

  After their drinks arrived, he strolled to the jukebox and fed a few dollars into it.

  He came back to the table and held out a hand rough from the construction work he’d been doing. “What do you say we hit the floor and snuggle up a bit?”

  Breathless, she nodded.

  Holding her hand, he led her onto the little square reserved for dancing. When he pulled her into his arms, she felt his heat, the beat of his heart. She closed her eyes and breathed in his fresh Irish Spring scent.

  One dance became two, then turned into three. The songs Brant had picked wrapped around them. “Wonderful Tonight,” “Just the Way You Are,” and the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody.” Their bodies melded perfectly, and Molly couldn’t remember why she’d been mad at him. Might have to forgive him this time. Maybe.

  With Brant holding her close, nothing else seemed to matter.

  By the time they returned to their seats, their beer was warm. Molly sipped at hers to wet her parched throat. Brant, with those muscles rippling beneath his T-shirt, did crazy things to her, sent her pulse racing like a wildfire, hot and out of control.

  He pushed his drink away and asked Binnie for a cold Coke.

  “I’m going to visit the little girl’s room,” Molly said.

  Coming back to the table a few minutes later, she caught Brant on the phone. He hung up when he saw her.

  “You called to check on Jax, didn’t you? Is he sleeping?”

  Brant took a swig of soda. “Want to dance?”

  “Uh-uh. I want the truth.” She grinned. “You look so guilty.”

  “Okay, I checked on him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Neither of my brothers has done any babysitting.”

  “Had you? Before that police officer placed Jax in your arms?”

  “No, but…”

  “It’s that control thing, Brant. Loosen your hold on those reins. There’s no reason your brothers shouldn’t help out.”

  “I know. Jax isn’t crying, but he’s not sleeping, either. They asked how soon I could get home.”

  “I say buy the kid a new teething ring for a job well done.”

  A quick burst of laughter erupted from him. “That’s one of the things I enjoy about you, Molly. Your smart-ass sense of humor.”

  He pushed out of his chair and caught her by the hand. “Come on. One more dance.”

  It started slow with an added dip, then he swung her out with a quick twirl. When he added a touch of dirty to it, Molly almost swooned. The man was good.

  When the song ended, he simply held her close, his strong arms wrapped around her, his clean scent surrounding her.

  She wanted him.

  It wouldn’t be a forever thing, but why not enjoy it short-term? Short was good. In some things, anyway. Her lips turned up in a grin.

  “What?” Watching her, he drew back.

  “Nothing.” Heat raced over her face.

  His eyes crinkled in a slow grin. “Okay, we’re all entitled to our secrets. I hope, though, that heat has something to do with me…and you.”

  She simply mimed turning a key over her lips.

  Brant dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Understood.”

  Molly sighed. “As much as I hate to say this,
it’s late, and I have to work tomorrow.”

  “You’re right, Cinderella. Time to get you home.” Then he frowned. “Technically, I guess it’s time you get me home, since you’re driving, and how bizarre is that?”

  On the way, she asked, “Just curious here, but why does Gaven call you BT sometimes?”

  “To remind me what a sorry middle name Mom and Dad saddled me with.”

  “And that name would be…?”

  “Truman, after our thirty-third president.”

  “Brant Truman Wylder. I kind of like it.”

  “’Cause it’s not yours. Although my brothers didn’t get off any easier. Tucker Kennedy and Gaven Roosevelt.”

  “Mom’s or Dad’s idea?”

  “Dad’s.”

  When she pulled up in front of his house, the moon was riding high in the sky.

  Brant faced her, one long arm stretched over the back of the seat. He leaned into her, unfastened her seat belt, and turned off the ignition. Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her as close as the car’s gearshift and console allowed. This time, their lips met in a feverish kiss. One followed another until Molly became lost in them.

  Nuzzling her neck, Brant asked, “Can we go to your place, Molly?”

  “Yes.”

  When he drew away, she felt chilled. Was she making a huge mistake? She finger-combed her tangled mass of hair.

  Brant reached over and stilled her hand. “Leave it. It looks all bed-mussed. Sexy. Like you and I already had a really great time.”

  “Whew. You’ve got me all flustered.” She closed her eyes. “And I probably shouldn’t have admitted that.”

  He chuckled. “We should get goin’, darlin’, before one of my brothers hauls me inside to watch the kid.”

  With shaky fingers, she started the car and pulled back onto the road.

  *

  By the time they reached her door, Brant was kissing the back of her neck, whispering in her ear, and making it darned near impossible to fit the key in the lock.

  Halfway up the stairs, he pinned her against the wall, the full length of his body against hers. He claimed her lips in a frenzied kiss as his fingers made fast work of her buttons. As her blouse fell open, his gaze blazed a hot trail from her eyes to her lips to her silk-covered breasts.

  He groaned, and she sent up a thankful prayer that beneath her practical jeans and soft cotton long-sleeved blouse, she’d worn lacy pale-yellow lingerie.

  Within seconds, both the jeans and the top were history. His followed, and she swallowed hard. The man was gorgeous and seriously ripped.

  Molly ran a hand over his abs, then followed with her mouth.

  “I wanted to go slow this first time, Molly, but…”

  “Take me, Brant.”

  And he did, right there in the stairway.

  Afterward, he carried her to her bed. This time they made love leisurely, exploring every inch of each other’s body.

  When she had her breath back, Molly asked, “How’d you get this scar?”

  “This?” He rubbed the spot on his thigh. “Stupidity. We had a car on the rack with rusted fenders. Lots of jagged metal.” He met her eyes. “It was just Gaven and me then. Tucker was still away. Anyway, I stood too close when Gav brought it down, and a piece of metal caught me. Bled like a son of a gun. Ten stitches.”

  She made a face. “Ouch.”

  “My own fault. Roll over.”

  “What?”

  “Roll over. I want a closer look at that tattoo riding your backside. I caught a glimpse of it when you bent over for DeVonne’s shoes, and I’ve been fantasizin’ about it ever since.”

  “I’m not rolling over so you can look at my butt.” Hot color raced up her face.

  “Sure you are. Besides, sweetheart, I’ve already seen your butt. First-class.” He waggled his brows. “Now I want to check out your tattoo.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he simply flipped her onto her stomach.

  She let out a little squeak. “Brant Wylder—”

  She stopped and drew in a breath when his lips kissed the small bluebird.

  Resting on an elbow, Brant traced it with a fingertip, and when she looked over her shoulder, he met her eyes in the moonlight that filtered through her curtains. “Nice.” His voice was husky. “Very, very nice. I approve.”

  “I’m glad, since it’s there to stay.”

  But she knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t stay.

  Truth? She was scared spitless tonight would alter everything, and since she couldn’t let that happen, she went on the offensive. “Brant, you understand tonight doesn’t change anything.”

  “You trying to convince me or yourself?” He ran a finger lazily along her bare back, over her hip to the top of her leg, his green eyes darkening. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe we need to try harder.”

  Before she could answer, he rolled her onto her back. His lips captured hers, his hard body blanketing her. His mouth and hands roamed over her, leaving not an inch untouched, and by the time he finished, both were out of breath, drenched in sweat, and bone-meltingly satisfied.

  “Everything’s changed, darlin’. You said three years, right?”

  Wide-eyed, her gaze flew to his.

  “I’m a patient man, and I’m in no hurry. I can wait.”

  “Brant—”

  “Molly.”

  *

  He meant to go home, but the bed was warm and the woman beside him so tempting. Another few minutes of stolen time wouldn’t hurt, would it? He drew Molly in and closed his eyes. When she snuggled closer, he draped a leg over hers. This felt right. He didn’t want a one-night stand with this woman, her list be damned.

  He drifted off to sleep.

  *

  An uneasy sensation of being watched woke him. Bubbles sprawled across the top of his pillow, her blue eyes staring unblinking into his.

  “Go away. Shoo. Go.”

  Molly stirred. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your cat. She’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “Bubbles, come here.” The sheet slid down as Molly reached for her pet.

  His breath caught, but he forced himself to say, “I should go home.”

  “Really?” She squinted when he turned on the bedside lamp.

  “The squirt will be up in a few hours, and I need to be there. To save him from my brothers, not the other way around.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes, one hand stroking her cat, the other spread across his stomach. “Give me a second.”

  “Any appointments this morning?”

  “No.”

  “How about I take your car? Stay in bed where it’s nice and warm, and I’ll deliver it before lunch.”

  “Sounds perfect. The keys are on the stairs somewhere.” She fingered the sheet. “Brant, I was serious before. Nothing’s changed.”

  “So was I. We turned a corner last night, Mol. One that can’t be unturned. Everything’s different today.” He leaned down and gave her a toe-curling kiss. “I’ll lock up behind me.”

  He’d thrown down the gauntlet. Would she take it up?

  *

  Brant stood motionless in the doorway of his rental, tempted to turn around and leave. The house was a disaster. Baby bottles and toys were strewn everywhere. A wadded-up, dirty diaper lay on the floor next to the couch, a half-eaten jar of baby food sat on the counter, and both his brothers were fast asleep, fully dressed. Tucker sprawled the length of the sofa, and the baby was tucked up beside Gaven on the roll-away he’d somehow talked Annabelle into lending him. Nobody had bothered to change Jax into pajamas.

  He glanced at his watch—4:10 a.m. The mess would wait.

  Stumbling over a pair of shoes, he made it to his room, closed the door, and dropped onto his bed, fully clothed. Might as well join the club.

  *

  Jax didn’t disappoint, rising with the sun.

  “What the heck?”

  Brant smiled sleepily. T
hat would be Gaven.

  A grunt came from the living room. Tucker. Good. They were both awake.

  “Brant! Hey, Brant, get out here. This kid’s crying. Again.”

  “Feed him and change his diaper. He’ll be fine.”

  “No way,” Tucker said. “We had duty last night.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve had it a heck of a lot longer. No relief. No downtime.” He pulled a pillow over his head. “You’ll do fine.”

  Ignoring the banging and cursing, he actually managed to get another five minutes of shut-eye before his door flew open.

  “He reeks.” Gaven held a crying Jax at arms’ length.

  “It’s last night’s dinner. It runs right through him, I swear.” He sat up. “Give me five minutes in the bathroom, then I’ll rescue you.”

  Brant knew as sure as he knew his own name that if he changed and fed the kid before he showered, he’d step out of the bathroom to find his brothers gone. They’d be sitting at Dee-Ann’s counter, eating breakfast. Not gonna happen.

  “And while I’m in there, clean up the place. It looks like a pigsty. Mom taught you better.” At the bathroom door, he stopped and took another look at his brothers. “You both look like you have the mother of all hangovers. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d hit the bars. Hard.”

  Tucker raised a hand to the back of his head. “There were two of us, and we couldn’t keep it together. How do you do it?”

  “Honestly? The first few days, I thought I’d died and gone to hell. There are still times I feel that way. But to be honest? I can’t imagine life without the little guy, stinky diapers and all.”

  *

  An hour later, Brant figured Molly would be up and around…and more than a little tired. He grinned, thinking about how they’d spent the night. Molly was so sweet and demure. But get her heated up, and she was more than he could have dreamed.

  He wanted her again. And again and again. Instead of appeasing his appetite, last night had whet it, and he craved more.

  When he dropped Jax off at day care, he gave him a dozen little kisses, then left without looking back. He’d learned really fast that if he took that last peek, both he and Jax had trouble separating.

  Brant drove to Main Street and parked in front of Tansy’s. Another couple of months and all those azalea bushes would be in bloom, and he’d be here to see them. Feeling good, he swung through the intricately carved front door.