Bachelor Father

by Jean C. Gordon

  Tall, dark, and handsome,” Molly repeated thoughtfully to herself. She’d concede to the tall and dark. But handsome? His looks ran more to the rugged than to the refined, classic good looks Helen was most likely picturing—the type of men Molly had dated in college.

  “Yes, tall, dark, and handsome,” Molly answered, picturing Brett decked out in a black formal tux watching her walk down a church aisle, his luminescent brown eyes shining with the same gleam as when he’d given her his mother’s ring. Molly shook the thought from her head. Mrs. Potter's excitement about the wedding must be contagious.

  “And, as I started to tell you, his two-year-old nephew will be living with us. Brett’s sister and brother-in-law were killed in an accident last month.”

  “A baby, too!” Helen fairly shrieked with glee. “Won’t your mother be beside herself getting a handsome son-in-law and a baby grandson all at once?”

  Mother surely would be beside herself, but not as Mrs. Potter thought. Mother hated to admit she was old enough to have a daughter Molly’s age, let alone be a grandmother. Perish the thought.

  Helen chatted on, “I keep hoping Alicia will have a little announcement for me soon. I wouldn’t mind being a grandmother, you know.”

  Molly laughed again. “I know, and you’ll be a terrific grandma. Give Alicia and Brad my best the next time you see them.”

  “I will, and you give that fiancé of yours a big congratulatory hug and kiss from me.”

  Molly hung up the phone, the momentary excitement of discussing wedding plans fleeing with the clunk of the receiver. She’d better get to work on those case studies she’d brought home. Crossing in the living room to get her satchel, she stopped and popped a CD in the player. Maybe some music would help fill the emptiness that suddenly overtook her.

  Chapter Seven

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Brett watched as Molly’s eyes first widened in surprise, then darkened to a deep jade. It appeared his little bride might be a tad miffed. She’d asked him specifically not to include the kiss in their ceremony, but he’d never actually agreed.

  He figured adjusting to having a woman living at his house—especially a woman he barely knew—could be difficult. So, he might as well take whatever fun came along. And over their two-week engagement, Brett had been thinking that kissing Molly could be whole a lot of fun.

  He pulled Molly gently to him and lowered his lips to hers. She stiffened in his arms. He hesitated.

  “Do it,” she hissed, puckering her lips for a quick peck.

  Stifling an urge to laugh at her pinched look, Brett touched her lips with his. He softly kissed away the sour pucker. No, sour was the wrong adjective. Brett detected nothing in the least sour about Molly’s reluctant response. He deepened the kiss and Molly relaxed against him.

  “Me, too. Me, too.” Jake wedged himself between Brett and Molly. “Me kiss Boo.”

  Brett released Molly, giving himself a moment to regain his equilibrium before attending to Jake’s demands. From the bemused expression on Molly’s face, it looked like she could use some time to regroup, too.

  “Up.” Jake lifted his chubby little arms.

  Brett gave him a benevolent smile. In the little paisley vest and corduroy pants Tina had bought for him, the tike looked pretty spiffy—for a two-and-a-half-year-old.

  “Here you go, Bud. Kisses for the beautiful bride.” Brett hoisted Jake up.

  Jake planted a big wet kiss on Molly’s cheek and announced, “Marry Boo.”

  A look Brett couldn’t quite interpret passed over Molly’s face before she smiled at Jake and said, “Well, yes, I guess we are all married now.”

  Brett put his other arm around her shoulder, turning her to face the church.

  The minister completed the ceremony. “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Brett Cahill—and family.”

  The small crowd clapped, with Jake joining in so enthusiastically, Brett had to put the child down between him and Molly to avoid being clapped in the face.

  Tina stepped from Brett’s left to retrieve Jake, but first gave Brett a congratulatory hug Molly found rather too enthusiastic. They were in church, after all, she thought before remembering the display she and Brett had just put on for the group. After finally, releasing Brett, Tina gave Molly a perfunctory hug and well wishes before hustling Jake back to the pew to sit with Amy.

  Charles Brown was next to offer congratulations. Falling into his role as surrogate big brother, Charles shook Brett’s hand, admonishing, “You take good care of her.”

  Brett squeezed Molly to his side. “I don’t think that should be too difficult.”

  Charles gave Brett a pointed look before turning to Molly. “Girl, you look sweet.”

  “You don’t dress up badly yourself,” she said.

  While Charles preened over the compliment, Molly looked past him to his wife Linda, who had joined them at the altar. Linda just rolled her eyes.

  “What can I say?” she asked good-naturedly. “You know, he’s impossibly vain.”

  “Now, Linda, you do have to admit he’s the handsomest maid of honor you’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s person of honor,” Charles protested. “Tina and are best person and person of honor.”

  Molly hugged Charles. “You certainly are a person of honor.” But she wouldn’t exactly call Tina a best person.

  Charles kissed her on the forehead. As he stepped back, Molly peeked at Brett to catch his reaction to Charles affection. Nothing. Brett was smiling at Jake’s antics with the pew kneeler. Hurt nipped at her heart, a lesser version of the hurt she’d felt when her mother had married the Judge and made it quite clear what Molly’s position was in the scheme of things.

  She closed her eyes for a few seconds. What was she thinking? Of course, Brett’s focus was on Jake. That’s what this whole marriage was about—taking care of Jake.

  When she opened her eyes, she noticed a slightly plump, middle-aged woman in one of the back pews. The guest rose hesitantly, a warm smile spreading across her face.

  She came! Molly grabbed Brett’s hand and pulled him to the back of the church. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Molly threw her arms around the impeccably dressed woman, almost knocking her off balance. “What a surprise. I’m so happy you came.”

  The woman untangled herself from Molly’s embrace. “I couldn’t miss your wedding,” she said, wiping a tear from Molly’s cheek.

  Molly sniffled. “Brett, I’d like you to meet someone very special. This is—”

  “Your mother,” Brett finished. He extended his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “No,” Molly said quietly.

  “I’m not pleased to meet her?” he teased, his eyes alight with amusement. Why? She’s not going to be one of those mother-in-laws, is she?” He winked at the woman.

  “No. She’s not my mother.” Another tear trekked down Molly’s cheek. She swiped it away. It didn’t matter that her mother didn’t come. The ceremony was all a charade anyway. This is . . .” Molly’s voice broke.

  “Helen Potter.” The woman wrapped one arm around Molly’s waist and clasped Brett’s still-extended hand in her other. “Molly’s very special to me. I think of her as my other daughter.”

  Brett’s brow creased and his eyes narrowed. Molly could almost hear him thinking, trying to place Mrs. Potter and her relationship to Molly. He looked at her, his expression demanding a clue, any clue.

  She really should help him out. But, considering the kiss stunt he’d pulled on her . . . The memory flashed vividly through her mind and body. No, better not consider his kiss. Her emotions were stretched to the limit already. Tomorrow, it wouldn’t mean anything at all.

  Brett shifted nervously, took Mrs. Potter’s hand, and cleared his throat.

  Helen gave Molly the look, the one the housekeeper had always used to warn Molly that she’d gone far enough.

  Molly got the message. Helen was right. Taking pleasu
re in Brett discomfort wasn’t very nice, but it was kind of fun to see him caught off guard.

  “Honey,” Molly said sweetly. “You remember I told you about Helen. She’s been with my family for years.” Molly didn’t want to say Helen was their housekeeper because to her Helen was much more. “She made my Pooh-bear pillow for me.” The words were out before Molly could stop them.

  Brett’s lips silently formed the words, “Pooh-bear?”

  Molly bit her tongue. Her Pooh-bear pillow. How juvenile sounding. No way could he understand what that silly little pillow meant. From what she’d gathered, Brett had suffered no lack of love as a child. A glance at him beside her in his Armani suit, a lock of his dark hair artfully falling across his forehead, made her doubt he lacked it as an adult either.

  Helen’s gaze was on Brett, too, and the look on Helen’s face told Molly she’d caught the exchange. Great. Helen had always been able to read Molly like a learn-to-read book. Molly would have to think fast to field Helen suspicions about the marriage. Maybe she’d be better off simply explaining, but Molly didn’t want to ruin Helen’s day. Helen wanted to believe Molly happily wed. Besides, if The Judge or Scott became suspicious of the motives for the wedding, they might find a way to prevent Molly from getting her trust money and buying the condo.

  “Of course, Helen,” Brett said sensing Molly’s discomfort. Molly’s told me all about you. My mind blanked for a second. You know, the wedding and all.”

  “Oh, I know. My husband was so nervous on our wedding day that he forgot and went to his family’s church, instead of mine. By the time he arrived for the ceremony, people were thinking he’d changed his mind.”

  Molly released the breath she’d been holding. Helen had bought Brett’s explanation. She could kiss him for that. A tingle ran up her spine. Molly hadn’t known relief could be so exhilarating.

  “Come here.” Helen opened her arms to Brett. “Let me welcome you to the family.”

  He bent down allowing Helen to give him a big hug.

  She released him. “It’s not often I get hugs from handsome young men anymore.”

  Brett shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and shuffled his feet.

  “Unca, Unca,” Jake called, racing up the aisle.

  Molly smiled. Jake never moved slowly. “Now,” she said, “here’s another handsome guy who probably has a hug for you.”

  “Who’s dat?” Jake asked. He pointed at Helen.

  Helen bent to his level. “I’m Grandma Helen.”

  “Ga’ma?” Jake tested the new word.

  “Yep.” Brett nodded. “Grandma Helen.”

  Jake went readily to Helen, and she picked him up. “My, what a big boy you are. Do you have a kiss for Grandma Helen?”

  “Jake big boy.” He beamed and planted a wet kiss on Helen’s cheek.

  Molly cringed at the exchange. Her professional training told her they were all setting Jake up for confusion when the marriage ended, but her heart swelled at how easily Brett and Helen shared their love.

  “All ready?” Brett asked, casually placing his arm around her shoulders. Everyone else had slipped by and gone to their cars.

  “Um, hmmm.” Molly turned to Helen. “Why don’t you—”

  “Join us for lunch,” Brett said. “We’re all meeting at the Dutch Inn for a little celebration.” He squeezed Molly’s shoulder.

  Celebration. What celebration? Brett was taking a little too much liberty with her life. First that kiss, now a wedding celebration. She’d made it abundantly clear to him she wanted no fuss. Sure, Brett wasn’t used to answering to anyone but neither was she. They needed to set some ground rules and fast if this relationship was going to last the weekend, let alone the three months or more it could take for Brett’s adoption application to be approved. Molly slipped out from under Brett’s arm.

  “I’d love to,” Helen answered. “I have a rental car. Should I follow you?”

  “You can ride with us,” Molly said linking her arm in Helen’s. “We’ll bring you back afterwards. You’ll stay the night with us?”

  “Sugar, I’m sorry. Much as I’d like to stay, I have to catch a 9 p.m. plane back to Baltimore. With the Judge and your mother out of town, I really couldn’t leave the house for more than the day.”

  “Of course,” Molly said, unable to keep a tinge of sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Besides,” Helen continued, “you don’t want company on your wedding night.”

  Molly felt a blush creeping up her face. She hadn’t really thought of tonight as her wedding night. She sneaked a furtive look at Brett. If his stupid grin was any indication, the thought had crossed his mind. It was their wedding night, but it wasn’t their wedding night. A shiver ran up her spine. Drafty old church.

  “Well,” Molly said, “at least we have the afternoon.” She looped her arm through Helen’s and walked with the older woman to Brett’s Wrangler, leaving Brett to follow with Jake.

  “No!” Jake let loose with an ear-splitting wail that carried easily from his bedroom to the bathroom down the hall.

  What now? Brett threw the wet towel in the tub and ran his hand through his damp hair. Jake had been a regular little monster to clean up tonight, as the pools of water on the floor attested. Too much excitement. But who could blame the little dude. It wasn’t every day a guy got married. Brett admitted to being a little worked up about the experience himself.

  Jake was beet red and still in full wail when Brett reached the bedroom door. Molly sat on the bed looking rather haggard. “It’s okay,” she crooned, smoothing the baby’s jet back hair from his forehead. Jake had run “his Boo” ragged all afternoon, dragging out all of his favorite toys for her and Helen Potter.

  “More ‘tory,” he sobbed.

  Molly wearily pulled another storybook from the shelf.

  “Wait,” Brett commanded.

  Molly gasped and the book flew across the room. “Lord, you scared me.”

  “Sorry.” Brett picked up the book and stood on the opposite side of the bed.

  “Boo, ‘tory,” Jake told him, rubbing his eyes.

  “I think Molly’s read you enough stories tonight, Bud.”

  Jake sniffled.

  “He got so upset when I said he had to go to sleep.” Molly fingered the cross that lay nestled between her breasts.

  “I’ll handle Jake. Why don’t you go downstairs?”

  Relief flooded Molly’s face. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. This tantrum isn’t anything I haven’t handled before.”

  “He does this often?” she asked.

  “Nah, only when he’s super tired like tonight. Go on. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Molly gave him a skeptical look and left.

  Brett counted the storybooks on top of the bookcase. She must have read Jake at least four stories. Brett always stopped at two bedtime stories.

  Molly gave into Jake’s demands too easily. Brett wondered if she had any more experience with kids than he did. She must or she wouldn’t be certified as a foster parent, would she? Regardless, he’d better make his rules for Jake clear to Molly or before they knew it he’d be running their lives. Then, she’d leave and he’d be stuck with the results. Brett ignored the twinge of disappointment that he felt at the thought of Molly leaving.

  “Unca, ‘tory.”

  “No, Bud,” Brett said firmly. “You’ve had enough stories. Time to go to sleep.”

  Jake started to scrunch his face.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Not with me.” Brett bent to re-tuck Jake’s covers.

  Jake sniffled. “Hugs.” His lip quivered as he reached for Brett. Brett embraced the warm little body. The realization that he was all that Jake had and Jake was all that he had once again overwhelmed Brett. He hugged the child fiercely.

  “Boo, hugs?” Jake asked when Brett dragged himself away.

  “Nice try, but no. Molly’s tired.”

  Jake seemed to ponder Brett’s statement for a moment
. “Me tired.” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and snuggled into his pillow.

  Brett kissed the top of Jake’s head and secured his covers.

  Hugging Molly sounded good to Brett, too. He would, except she might not appreciate his efforts. He had an inkling Molly wasn’t overly free with her affections. Maybe he and Jake ought to work on that. Yeah, that could be fun. A few friendly kisses and hugs, no chains attached. Not like a real marriage.

  But first, he’d better set Molly straight about the house rules concerning Jake. And, while he was at it, he’d tell her he didn’t like the way she’d left the church without him. Yep, they needed to set some ground rules and fast if this relationship was going to last the weekend, let alone until Jake’s adoption was approved.

  Brett headed down the stairs. “Molly, we . . .” He paused on the landing. Molly stirred in her sleep. Soft light from the floor lamp illuminated her face, giving her pale skin a pearlesque sheen and muting the sprinkle of freckles that bridged her nose. Her hair fanned out on the couch cushion in a red-gold halo that caught the lamp light and reflected it back.

  A compulsion to touch her hair overwhelmed Brett. He wanted —no needed—to see if it was as angel soft as it looked. He should wake her. Yes. They needed to talk. He walked to the couch and reached to shake her shoulder but, instead, gently lifted one red-gold tress from her cheek. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. Angel soft. He kissed the top of her head as he had Jake’s. An herbal scent engulfed his senses. Angel sweet, too. They could talk tomorrow.

  Brett went to the window seat, lifted the cover, and pulled out a quilt. He covered Molly and, after switching off the lamp, headed back upstairs.

  Chapter Eight

  “Some honeymoon.” Brett hoisted a box to his shoulder. “Are we having fun, yet?”

  Molly grimaced. Packing wasn’t exactly the way she’d envisioned the morning after her wedding, either. Not that she’d given much previous thought to having a wedding or a morning after.

  “I’m almost done packing,” she said. “Go ahead and take that box out to the Jeep while I get the things from my room.”