Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  He regretted bringing up the subject. Still he said, “You had to have known we’d get to this talk sooner or later.”

  In a quiet voice, she said, “Let’s not spoil tonight.”

  “Fair enough. You ready to hit the road?”

  “I am.”

  He signaled for the check.

  Halfway across the parking lot, Brant hesitated. “The logistics of getting everyone home’s a little more complicated than I’d originally thought. I’d planned to drop you off, then go back to the house and pick up Kitty and Jax. If I take her home on my motorcycle, though—”

  “I’ve already had my ride, so I’ll stay with Jax, then you and he can deliver me home in your car.” She looked at him sideways. “And you can pray Jax falls back asleep after all that.”

  “Being a single parent is tough. Puts a big dent in my love life.”

  She chuckled, and he figured they were back on steady footing. Nothing had been gained, but nothing had been lost, either.

  Right there in the parking lot, he pulled her in and kissed her till he ached. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I love that mouth of yours.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose, then dropped another on the top of her head. “I want you, Molly.”

  What scared him to his very soul was the niggling suspicion that having her physically, no matter how many times, wouldn’t be enough. Somehow or other she’d worked herself under his skin. Inside his head. Into his heart?

  *

  Molly stood in the open doorway as Brant drove away with a bundled-up Kitty, her arms wrapped tightly around him, hooting and hollering in glee. Good thing Brant had no close neighbors.

  “Kitty’s on her way home, Jax, and you need to go nighty-night.”

  Even though Brant had pulled in quietly, the baby had heard them and woke. They’d caught Kitty on her way to the makeshift nursery when they crept in.

  “How about some nice, warm milk?” Molly asked.

  “Bababa.”

  “Great.” She yawned. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be another.

  Bottle prepared, she carried both it and Jax to the rocker. It didn’t take long to realize he was more interested in playing than sleeping, though. She glanced toward the bedroom. Maybe if they lay down, he’d fall asleep more easily. She didn’t want Brant to come home to a fussy baby, although right now, Jax seemed perfectly content. They’d have to take him back out, but since he slept well in cars, it might be okay.

  She toed off her boots and settled on the bed with Jax cuddled against her. Within minutes he was asleep. Soft moonlight played around the curtain’s edges. That, mixed with the baby’s quiet breathing, soothed her. It had been a nice evening—until Brant turned serious. About them. She didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to think about the future.

  Things were good between them, easy and unassuming. Why analyze their relationship or try to make it more? He took care of his family, yes. They all counted on him. But could she? What if he lost interest in her and walked away?

  She refused to live an echo of her mother’s life.

  *

  Brant let himself into the nearly dark house. Darned if he hadn’t enjoyed his trip into town with Kitty. The woman must have given her husband one heck of a ride all these years, and Brant wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Harvey found himself in the market for another motorcycle. According to Kitty, it had been almost fifteen years since he sold his last one.

  He whacked his knee on the corner of an end table and swore.

  “Molly?”

  No answer.

  Taking off his shoes, he peeked into the baby’s room. Empty. That left his bedroom.

  Standing in the doorway, he rested a hand against the jamb. Sleeping Beauty was right there in his bed, her incredible hair spread over his pillow and his nephew tucked in the crook of her arm, his little head resting on her breast.

  For the first time in his life, Brant found himself thinking of forever, and the lady wasn’t interested. The irony didn’t escape him.

  For all of two seconds, he considered waking her. He eyed the couch, then turned back to Molly. Too tempting to resist. He pulled a blanket from the linen closet and covered her and Jax. Giving up the fight, he lay down on the other side of the baby.

  In that moment, all was right in his world.

  *

  Molly woke slowly as a ray of early-morning sunshine kissed her cheek with its gentle warmth.

  As her mind engaged, she recognized the sound beside her: a baby’s happy gurgling. Smiling, she opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with a babbling baby and a very sexy, heavy-eyed, five-o’clock-shadowed Brant.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” His voice, husky with sleep, touched her heart.

  She was hip-deep in quicksand and sinking deeper by the minute.

  “Good morning, Brant. You should have woken me last night.” She grimaced. “I didn’t mean to steal your bed.”

  “You didn’t. We all fit just fine. And for the record?” His beautiful green eyes penetrated her soul. “You’re welcome in my bed anytime.”

  “Brant—”

  “Just puttin’ it out there.”

  She sighed, her emotions too scattered to speak. Peering at the clock on his nightstand, she blinked in surprise. She still had several hours before she opened her shop.

  Brant’s gaze followed hers, then returned to her face.

  He reached out to play with her hair, and her stomach fluttered.

  “With you here in my bed, I can think of so many ways to start the day.” He tipped his chin at the squirmy baby. “He negates every single one.”

  “A shame, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah.” His hand roamed down her neck, over her shoulder. “Let me at least feed you before I take you home. This one needs a diaper change and some food, too. Not quite as easy to hop out of bed and go as it used to be.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is. Why don’t you let me change Jax while you make coffee?”

  “An offer I can’t refuse.” Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over the baby to drop an easy kiss on her lips, then rolled out of bed.

  By the time she’d given Jax a quick bath and dressed him, Brant had her coffee poured and breakfast started.

  She picked up her cup and breathed in the rich aroma before taking a drink. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

  “Not at all. Want company?”

  “Not this time.”

  Brant’s spatula clattered onto the counter. “Does that imply you will the next time?”

  She sent him a saucy grin. Coffee in hand, she left the room.

  *

  Her freshly shampooed hair slicked back in another ponytail, she moved into the kitchen. “Smells good.”

  Brant had set the table and placed a jelly jar full of wildflowers in the center.

  “Breakfast and flowers. Wow.”

  “That’s me. Mr. Romantic.”

  She snorted.

  “Did you hear that, Jax?” He held up the baby. “We braved the cold and hunted high and low for those flowers, but does she appreciate them?” He shook his head in mock disdain. “Women. You can never make them happy. Remember that.”

  Molly gasped. “You can’t tell him things like that.”

  “Sure I can. I just did.” He belted the baby into his high chair and bent down to his eye level. “You want the truth, right?”

  Jax let out a delighted shriek and banged a rattle on the tray.

  Brant met Molly’s eyes. “See?”

  She simply shook her head.

  “I think Molly’s upset with us.”

  The baby giggled.

  Molly pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ll forgive you if I can have another cup of coffee and a couple slices of that bacon.”

  As she ate, she prayed no one would be peeking out of their store windows to witness her walk of shame this morning. Even if she told the truth, who’d believe it?

&nb
sp; Yeah, she and Brant spent the night together. In the same bed. But there’d been no sex. Not even a good-night kiss.

  How pathetic was that?

  Chapter 21

  Brant drove Molly home and left her at the door with a less-than-chaste kiss.

  It had been unbelievable to wake up beside her, to share breakfast and a few morning kisses. He’d do it again tomorrow morning if she would let him, but she’d made her feelings pretty clear on that.

  Jax had been dropped at day care, Lainey was doing well and had loved yesterday’s picture, and Tucker called to say their mother was making amazing improvement with the new physical therapist. With the help of a cane, she was walking, and her speech was close to normal.

  Brant’s family was healing.

  Which meant he had no excuses for putting off work. He made a quick stop at Elliot’s to pick up a few supplies, then at Tommy’s for gas and another coffee.

  The smell of the ham biscuits Tommy’s wife made was impossible to resist. “I’ll take two, Tommy. They’ll be lunch. Save me a trip into town later.” He added a couple of bottles of cold water.

  The train that ran through town sounded its lonely whistle. At one time, it would have been invaluable to Misty Bottoms, connecting it to the rest of the world. Now it had become nearly irrelevant.

  Kind of sad, but things changed. So did feelings.

  He thought of Molly.

  Yep. Feelings changed. By leaps and bounds.

  And sometimes a fellow wrestled with what he was supposed to do about that.

  *

  Tucker had drawn up a schematic showing exactly where he wanted the bay area’s shelves and precisely what size went where. Brant decided to tackle them.

  Up to his armpits in sawdust and brackets, he heard, over the sound of his drill, the front door open and close.

  Spitting out the screw he held between his lips, he called out, “Not open yet.”

  “I know that.”

  Brant recognized the voice of the station’s former owner. “Hey, glad you stopped by.”

  “Got coffee?”

  “Give me time, old man.”

  “That’s right. Respect your elders.” Frank chuckled.

  “I do. Nice business you ran here, and my brothers and I thank you for taking such good care of the building.”

  “I like you, son,” the guy mumbled.

  “See you’re still wearing your old service-station shirt.”

  “Why not? I’ve got a closetful, and my wife keeps them cleaned and pressed. Speaking of my wife, I almost forgot. She’d have had my hide.”

  Holding up a finger, he moseyed out to his old Buick, then came back carrying a plate. “Lettie baked you some oatmeal raisin cookies.”

  “What a minute. Lettie’s your wife?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Is she a seamstress?”

  “Yep. None better. Works at the new bridal shop in town.”

  “Molly’s shop.”

  “That’s it. I told her she didn’t need to work, but she claimed she wanted to get out of the house a bit.”

  Brant grinned. Yeah, she probably did.

  Frank held up the plate. “Figured you wouldn’t mind sharin’ these. Gotta have coffee to go with cookies, though.” Turning in a circle, he looked around the office. “Where’s Rosie?”

  “Who?”

  “Rosie. Our coffeepot. That old gal kept us happy and in coffee three hundred sixty-five days a year.” He tipped his head. “Well, guess I closed for Christmas and a few other days. Still…I don’t see Rosie.”

  “She retired. Same day you did, Frank.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Don’t see no replacement. What kind of a place you runnin’, without coffee?”

  Brant rubbed his chin. “See, that’s the thing. We’re not actually running anything yet. We’re not open for business.”

  “But you’re gonna have coffee, aren’t ya?”

  “We are. The next time you stop by, there’ll be coffee. For now, how about a cold water?”

  “Guess it’ll have to do, won’t it?”

  Amusement flickered in Brant’s eyes. “Guess so.”

  Frank spent the next little while poking around the garage and inspecting the changes. He pointed at the building out back. “What’s that?”

  “Our downdraft paint booth.”

  “Hmph. Why do you need it?”

  “The cars we work on are pretty high-end, and our customers expect—and get—as close to perfection as is humanly possible. That booth provides both dust and fume protection.”

  “Gotcha. Can I take a peek?”

  “Sure.” Brant thought about the shelves that wouldn’t get hung today.

  After Frank checked out their paint booth, he nodded toward Brant’s Camaro. “Nice shape.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You take care of them, they’ll take care of you. Kept Furlon Jennings’s old Chevy runnin’ way past its time. Thing threw fan belts like Sandy Koufax threw strikes, so I always kept one or two in stock.” Frank rubbed his whiskered jaw. “I can lend a hand, if you need it. Show you boys how to install a muffler quicker than you can whistle ‘Dixie.’”

  “I’ll give you a call if we run into something we can’t handle.” Brant managed to keep his expression neutral.

  “Heard you’re dating Molly Stiles. You be good to her.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  With a nod, Frank sauntered toward his car. “You promised to have coffee next time I stop. We’ll see how good you are at keepin’ your word.”

  A loaded statement, if Brant had ever heard one.

  Frank opened the Buick’s door. “Don’t work too hard.”

  Brant laughed. “Too late for me. Save yourself!”

  “Think I will.”

  As Frank drove away, Brant realized that under all the good-old-boy stuff, he’d been warned. Old Frank cared more about Molly than her own father did. Maybe.

  Instead of being pissed, Brant found himself pleased the old guy had decided to play protector.

  He headed back to the bay and the pile of lumber, and despite the interruption, managed to finish the job. When he’d pounded in the last nail and tightened the last screw, he stood back to study the new shelves.

  Tucker had done a darned good job with the design.

  Brant needed a shower, but a glance at the clock told him it would have to wait. Locking the bays and front door, he wiped away the worst of the dust and headed into town to rescue Lucinda. Halfway there, he decided he’d make a quick stop to pick up a coffeepot. In case Frank came back with more cookies. In case he had to prove he was a man of his word.

  *

  He had the new Keurig unpacked and ready to go when Frank pulled in the next morning.

  “See you kept your promise. On this, at least.”

  Brant hid his smile, then listened while Frank complained about all the new-fangled, fancy gadgets. It didn’t stop him from accepting a coffee from the machine, though. After his first few sips, Brant handed him a tape measure.

  “How about you run the dumb end for me? I need to figure my layout for the bottom cabinets in our storage area.”

  When they finished, Frank helped himself to a second coffee, then announced he had to make a post office run. Brant saw him off, then went back inside to hang a pegboard for their small tools.

  Not two minutes later, another car pulled in. Brant tossed his screwdriver on top of a banged-up filing cabinet. How was he expected to get anything done if Frank and half of Misty Bottoms stopped by for coffee and a chat every day?

  Ready to bite off the intruder’s head, he stopped, mouth half-open, as Molly slipped out of her car, looking fresh and tempting in a swingy black skirt and a long-sleeved lacy top that jump-started his engine.

  He wiped his hands on an old oil-cloth and strolled out to meet her. “Hey, good-lookin’. What brings you here?”

  She reached into the car and came out with two Sweet Dreams cups. “I though
t you might be ready for a break.”

  All thoughts of work fled. “You bet I am.” Ignoring the fact he’d already had enough caffeine, he took one of Tansy’s specialty coffees. “Not working today?”

  “I’m taking a breather while Lettie watches the shop for half an hour.”

  The day flirted with cool but had stayed just shy of uncomfortable. He held up a finger. “Hold on.”

  He ducked inside and came out with two raggedy stools. Plopping them into a small patch of sunshine, he wiped off the thin layer of dust with his hand and covered the seat with an old flannel shirt he kept at the station. “These aren’t the greatest, but they’re all I’ve got.”

  Then he swiped his dusty hand on the side of his worn jeans. He’d caught them on a nail and ripped a big hole in the right leg.

  Giving Molly a sideways glance, he asked, “You bake?”

  She looked affronted. “Of course.”

  “Frank, the guy I bought this place from? His wife is your Lettie.”

  “You’re kidding. She never said a word.”

  “The woman makes a mean oatmeal raisin cookie.”

  “Lettie does everything well.” Molly grinned. “You know why she wants to work?”

  Brant laughed. “I do. To get away from Frank. I—” Frowning, he tipped his head to the side. “Hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  She grew quiet. A small, distressed sound broke the silence. “An animal.”

  “Yeah, one that’s in trouble.” He hopped off his stool and set down his coffee, then walked cautiously toward a stand of trees close to the two-lane road.

  Molly was right behind him.

  The yelps grew louder.

  A yellow Labrador retriever pup was caught in a snarl of briars.

  With a cry, Molly raced around Brant. “Oh, you poor, poor baby.” She knelt beside the pup. “Help me get him loose.”

  Brant dropped to his knees and, with the help of a pocket knife, managed to free the pup. He lifted him, holding him one-handed.

  Tears sparkled in Molly’s eyes. “He’s half-starved. His little ribs are showing. Oh, Brant, you have to keep him.”

  “I don’t want a dog, Molly.”

  “But…”

  “If I wanted a dog, it would be a hot dog, preferably a Sabrett’s.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re awful!”