Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  “I’ll talk to Lettie this afternoon and check my appointments, see what I have coming up.” She raised a hand to her lips. Whose mouth had those words spilled from?

  Before she could take them back, Brant said, “Thank you.” Packing up the remains of their lunch, he hustled her back to the bike. “Hop on. We still have some time, and I want to show you something.”

  Half a mile from town, he pulled up in front of an empty house.

  On the back of the Harley, Molly sighed. “I love the wrap-around porch and those live oaks. Think of the shade they’ll provide on a lazy summer afternoon. Perfect spot for a hammock.”

  “There’s a gazebo out back and, the icing on the cake, a two-car garage.”

  “You’re showing me this because…?” Molly asked.

  “I rented it this morning, with an option to buy.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. It’s in pristine shape, with hardwood floors and a great kitchen. Three bedrooms and two baths upstairs. And downstairs, there’s a living, dining, and family room with a large fireplace and half bath. Plenty of space for Jax’s things and for my parents, when they visit. But not a scrap of furniture.”

  “Ouch.”

  He shrugged. “While I’m in Lake Delores, I’ll make arrangements with a moving company. I’m renting there, so no problem.”

  Molly felt the vise tighten.

  Love and the vulnerability it created scared her. Her list had been her protective umbrella—until Brant poked it full of holes and made her see it for what it was: a faulty shield at best.

  Chapter 23

  A harried-looking Brant knocked at Molly’s door nearly half an hour late.

  “You okay?” she asked, stepping out to meet him.

  “I can’t believe how much stress the idea of this eight-hour road trip is causing me.”

  “How bad can it be?”

  “Oh, sugar, you have no idea. Both the back seat and trunk are packed with Jax’s stuff. A stroller, a spray bottle—”

  “Wait.” Confused, she spread her hands. “A spray bottle?”

  “In case his pacifier drops to the ground or even to the floor of the car. Or his bottle or teething ring. His hands might get sticky. I can use it to rinse them off.”

  She studied him with new respect. “Way to go, Daddy. I’d never have thought of that.”

  “Oh yeah, you would have. Given enough time around this guy, you’d have one of your own. A spray bottle, not a baby,” he added quickly.

  They’d reached the car and she leaned in to give Jax a kiss. “Good morning, sweetie.”

  He giggled and slapped his hands on the infant seat.

  “So what other goodies has Unkie crammed in here with you?” She turned from the baby to Brant.

  “Tons of plastic bags for dirty diapers, soiled outfits, used baby wipes. Some backup bottles ready to go, changes of clothes. Extra shoes and blankets. Toys, baby food, and juice. Crackers. Jax’s clip-on white-noise-and-lullaby-music thingy.” He leaned in and gave it a tap, then closed his eyes. “I have a veritable baby aisle packed in my Camaro.”

  “What’s in the wide-mouth thermos?”

  “I’d like to say something adult like tequila or even coffee.” He grabbed the container and shook it. “But it’s a couple of teething rings.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Smart man.”

  Sheepishly, he tossed the thermos on the seat. “I can’t take credit for that. One of Dee-Ann’s customers suggested it.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he sighed. “A few weeks ago, I’d have thrown an extra pair of jeans into a duffel along with a couple clean Tshirts, some skivvies, my toothbrush, and razor, and I’d have been good to go. Now? I spent half the night packing…and I still probably don’t have everything I need.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  He met her eyes. “I sure as heck hope so. Lainey insists she’s getting better, but what if she can’t ever take him back?”

  “She will.”

  Silently, he opened the car door for her, then moved around to the driver’s seat.

  Molly let the topic drop.

  *

  Forty-some miles down the road, Jax grew fussy.

  Half-turned in her seat, Molly talked to him, wound up his lullabies, and gave him a baby biscuit, which he ground to pulp. Nothing worked. He remained inconsolable.

  “You need to stop, Brant.”

  “Yeah, I know. There’s a roadside rest in a mile and a half.”

  After he parked, Molly volunteered to take the baby into the ladies’ room with her. “He’s wet. Maybe that’s his problem.”

  A clean diaper didn’t help, but as long as she held him, he was fine.

  When she stepped out into the cool Southern day, Brant leaned against the car, feet crossed, waiting for her. The sight stopped her in her tracks. Dressed in jeans and a pale-green, long-sleeved T-shirt, dark glasses covering his incredible eyes, the man stole her breath.

  She had it bad.

  “Jax, I’ve got a hunch I’m never going to get your uncle out of my head…or my heart. And I’ll bet you’ll grow up to be every bit as handsome. Whose heart will you break?”

  Reaching up, the baby laid a hand on her cheek. His little face serious, he babbled nonstop to the car.

  “Sounds like you two are having quite the conversation.” Brant straightened and moved to open the back door. “You talkin’ about me?”

  Molly’s eyes widened. Did the man have ESP or had he bugged Jax’s seat?

  “Food. We were talking about food,” she blurted. “Should we feed him before we go?”

  “Yeah.” Brant checked his watch. “We’re on that proverbial slow boat to China.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Yeah. But.” He slid the diaper bag from her shoulder. “There’re a couple of jars in here. You think it’s warm enough to feed him outside?”

  “I do. He’s dressed for it.” She zipped her own hoodie. “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” Brant sent her a wicked grin. “I’m hot.”

  Molly decided it was best not to comment on that.

  He laughed.

  They moved to one of the picnic tables, looking like the other young families. But they weren’t. Brant was a temporary, substitute daddy. Herself? Molly honestly didn’t know what her role was.

  And she wouldn’t think about it now.

  While Brant, with Jax on his lap, attempted to get more of the spinach, zucchini, and quinoa mixture into the baby than on him, Molly picked at some grapes.

  “You’re not gonna share?” Brant asked. He held out a spoon covered in green goo. “I’ll give you a taste of mine.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll feed you a grape if you don’t give me any of that.”

  His eyes on hers, Brant didn’t see the small hand slap out. The spoon shot up, and green slime dripped down the side of his face.

  Jax laughed out loud and reached for the jar in Brant’s other hand.

  “Argh. No you don’t.” One arm around the wiggly baby, Brant swiped the back of the hand holding the jar across his cheek.

  Molly made a choked sound, and he glared at her.

  “Don’t.”

  She tried, really tried, to hold back the laughter.

  “I’m warning you, Molly.”

  The laugh burst out of her, and Jax joined in.

  Before she could get away, Brant swiped spinach down her nose. A drop plopped onto the table in front of her.

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I did warn you.”

  “Yes, you did.” Without thinking, she grabbed Jax’s bottle, aimed it, and squeezed. Formula hit Brant square between the eyes.

  Some of it splashed onto Jax, who squealed in delight, slapping his hands on the table.

  “You want to play dirty, do you, Ms. Molly?”

  The air changed, charged with heat and adult longings.

  “I think we’d better get cleaned up and hit the road.”

>   “Yes, Mom.”

  *

  The second Brant strapped Jax in his seat, he started crying again.

  “What’s wrong, bud?”

  “He doesn’t want to be back there alone.” Molly slid from the front seat and hopped into the back.

  “What are you doing?” Brant stood, the car door hanging open.

  “I’ll ride back here for a while.”

  “And I’m what? The chauffeur?”

  “Get in and drive.”

  He did.

  As she played pat-a-cake with Jax, Brant met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “This is ridiculous.”

  “This is having a kid.”

  “I don’t like it. I want you up here. With me.”

  Her heart smiled.

  Twenty miles down the road, Jax’s eyes fluttered shut and he gave in to sleep.

  Molly, fretting about That Little White Dress, called Lettie.

  “This is the fourth time you’ve called, Molly. How am I going to get my work done if you keep bothering me? The next time the phone rings, I’m not going to answer,” she threatened.

  “You can’t do that! It might be a customer.”

  “Then get off the line,” Lettie said, “so that customer can call!”

  “Okay, okay.” Molly hung up and brooded.

  “Everything will be fine,” Brant assured her.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  When they turned onto the lane that led to Brant’s family home, Molly stared in awe. It was like a Norman Rockwell scene. The two-story house sat at the end of a long, winding drive lined with pines. White fencing ran along the boundary. A large stone chimney dominated one end of the house, and behind it, Molly glimpsed the river.

  Along with the beauty, though, or maybe because of it, nerves showed up.

  A sideways glance at Brant did nothing to quell them.

  Turning off the car, he looked at her, those oh-so-green eyes questioning.

  “You okay?”

  She placed a hand over her hammering heart. “I’m so nervous.”

  “Me too.” He raised her hand to his lips. “I’ve brought a couple girls home before, but none that mattered.” His gaze bored into hers. “You do.”

  “Brant—”

  The front door opened, and an older version of the man beside her stepped out.

  “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “He will.”

  “Your mom?”

  “She’ll love you because…well, because how could anyone not?”

  Her heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t almost said—no, of course not. That would be a disaster. Love wasn’t in the plans. For either of them.

  “Come on, Mol. My dad doesn’t bite.”

  “We’ll see how you feel when I drag you to Savannah to meet mine.”

  Instantly, she wished she could bite off her tongue.

  “I already met your dad, remember?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She shrugged. “That was different.”

  “You’re right. I was madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory, and that didn’t leave any room for nerves.”

  She didn’t get a chance to fire back, because the second she stepped from the car, she found herself wrapped in a huge bear hug.

  “You must be Molly.”

  Brant’s father drew back and she inhaled, replacing most of the air he’d squeezed out of her. “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir? After all you’ve done for my family?” His eyes grew misty. “Call me Neal. Please.”

  “I don’t know what Brant’s told you, Neal, but I haven’t done much.”

  “Nonsense. You stood by my boy here and helped him when he needed it most. Lainey told Penny and me about how you visited her at the hospital and listened, really listened, to her and how you stood up to that no-good jerk she got involved with. My wife and I thank you.”

  Brant hefted Jax from the back seat.

  “Might as well just tell Dad he’s welcome, Molly. You won’t change his mind. Your reputation precedes you.”

  “You’re welcome, Neal.” She took Jax so Brant could round up the baby’s things. “Believe me, spending time with this one was no hardship.”

  Jax raised his hands to her face, and Molly leaned in for a kiss. The baby giggled.

  “He looks happy.”

  “He is, Dad, despite a pretty rocky detour. How’s Mom?”

  “Doing better, but I can’t get her out of the house.”

  Penny Wylder was sitting in a recliner when they walked inside.

  Brant’s face lit up. “I’ve missed you, Mom.” Dropping everything inside the door, he crossed the room in quick strides and leaned down to hug her.

  She raised a shaky hand to pat his cheek. “Missed you, too.” Her speech, slightly slurred, was slow but strong. She looked at Molly. “You must be the per…per…one who helped my son and daughter.”

  “If you mean the one lucky enough to enjoy this sweet baby, then that’s me. I’m Molly.”

  Penny beamed at her. “Welcome, Molly.”

  “Want some help with your luggage, Son?” Neal asked.

  “No. We’ll bunk at my house.”

  Molly blinked. That was news. A myriad of emotions barreled through her.

  The tips of Neal’s ears reddened. “We don’t, you know, expect you to sleep in separate rooms. I mean, your mom and I understand—”

  Now Molly blushed.

  “I’ve got stuff to do there, Dad. I didn’t expect to be gone more than a couple of days, so I need to take some things back with me.”

  “You’re leaving.” His mom spoke quietly.

  “Not yet. We’ll eat and catch up, then we’ll be back in the morning.”

  “No. Not what I mean. You and your brothers…” Penny’s hands moved restlessly in her lap. “Leaving Lake Delores.”

  Brant looked crestfallen. “Why don’t you come, too, Mom? You and Dad.”

  “This is home,” his father said.

  “I understand that,” Brant answered. “But this house is too big for you, and the boys and I need to do this.”

  “Understood, but we’re not ready to take that step.”

  “Maybe,” his mother said. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s leave it for now,” Neal said. “Look at our grandson, Penny.”

  The door flew open, and Tucker and Gaven bounded in. The brothers pounded each others’ backs and exchanged greetings.

  Tucker gave Molly a polite hello, but Gaven pulled her into a hug and gave her a welcoming kiss.

  “Find your own lady, Bro,” Brant growled.

  “Maybe I have.” He kept an arm around Molly.

  “Behave yourself, or I’ll take you out to the woodshed,” Neal warned.

  Molly’s eyes widened, and everyone laughed.

  “Mol, this man can’t hurt a fly. If one sneaks inside, Mom has to deal with it,” Brant explained. “There’s no woodshed. Not because we didn’t deserve one, but because Dad’s a softie.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed,” Neal said gruffly.

  “And maybe those pigs in Misty Bottoms really can fly,” Gaven said.

  “Speaking of pigs, I’m hungry. What’d you bring?” Brant grabbed one of the bags Tucker had carried in.

  “We stopped at Monk’s Deli. Mom likes his soup, don’t you, Mom?”

  Penny smiled at her oldest son.

  *

  The evening flew by. Molly realized that even when her father had been with them, they’d never been as boisterous and free as Penny and Neal’s family. She liked it, enjoyed the easy give-and-take, the teasing, the helping. This feeling of home.

  Before she knew it, kisses and hugs had been doled out, and she, Jax, and Brant headed to his place. The night was dark, with barely a star in the sky. The moon, if it was up there, hid behind pillowed clouds. A whole new level of nerves set in, and a twitchy little dance started in her stomach. Yet she had to admit to curiosity about Brant’s house. It would be interesting to see him in his own environment.


  She’d chalked up the anxiety she felt all day to meeting his parents. That wasn’t it. It was Brant himself. He’d become way too important and consumed far too much of her thoughts.

  Even at work, he threw her off stride. He showed up every other day or so to take her to lunch, and by noon, she found herself watching the clock. Whenever he came, she argued that she should stay at the shop, but she never did. And when he didn’t show, she dragged herself upstairs to eat a moody lunch.

  She thought of her list, the one Brant seemed hell-bent on destroying. It had worked until now, because the items on it weren’t arbitrary whims. When her dad left, her life had splintered, and she’d had absolutely no control over any of it. Neither had her mom.

  Preston Stiles had called all the shots.

  Molly had vowed she’d always have a plan, always be in control.

  The plan had gotten her this far, but maybe it was time she set the list aside.

  And didn’t that open up possibilities.

  Brant turned into a paved drive, and Molly fought to still her mind. It had been a long day, and she was tired. She stared through the windshield at the sprawling ranch home.

  “Let me go in first and turn on some lights.” Brant checked his rearview mirror. “The kid played pretty hard tonight. He’s out cold. I’ll set up his travel crib.”

  Molly watched him walk up the stairs and disappear inside. The man was irresistible, and she was in Lake Delores, Tennessee, spending the night alone with him.

  Well, with him and Jax.

  Why not set worries aside and simply enjoy?

  Molly waited for the lights, then stepped inside, carrying the sleeping child. She couldn’t hide the quick grin. The house’s decor shouted man. Shouted Brant Wylder.

  “I set Jax up in the front bedroom. Why don’t you settle him in there?” Brant pointed.

  She shook her head and held out the baby and carrier. “You do it. I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  She extended her arm, palm up. “Getting to know you through your house.”

  “Dust bunnies can’t be held against me. I’ve been gone.”

  “Duly noted.”

  While he put the baby down, she wandered through his rooms. The walls were off-white, but everything else acknowledged his love of color. The sofa was a comfortable blue-and-green plaid, echoing the colors of a pedestal globe beside it. Black-and-white-striped drapes hung at the two windows. The coffee table had been made from hard-used salvage wood, and a side table consisted of two vintage suitcases propped one on top of the other.