Babyjacked

by Sosie Frost

  In which grocery store aisle would I find my sanity?

  I parked next to Cassi’s little red Ford Fiesta and breathed a sigh of relief.

  This concluded Mellie’s twenty solid minutes of ceaseless questions. Twenty minutes of noise. Twenty minutes of sniffles, giggles, and inquisitions.

  If a tree fell in the forest, you’re goddamned right it made a thud. If a three-year-old fell in the forest, it’d be a half-hour of philosophical discussion into the hows, whys, wheres, whens, and indignities of the tumble. And then they’d demand a cookie.

  I wasn’t used to talking.

  Wasn’t used to kids.

  And I wasn’t used to Cassi.

  “I’m impressed.” She greeted me with a playful tease. “You remembered the way to the store.”

  I’d sweated in the Butterpond summer for a solid day now, but Cassi’s smile was warmer than any record heat. But that hesitance in her voice? The hurt? That was a splash of icy water. Like tripping into a puddle in the winter and peeling away the soaked denim sticking to your calf.

  “Wasn’t hard,” I said. “It’s the only building in town.”

  I unhooked Mellie from her seat. Apparently, this was permission for her to bolt across the parking lot without checking to see the rusted Toyota creeping between the lanes. Cassi caught the kid before she skateboarded across the lot on an abandoned cart.

  I hated the store—hated the owners more—but I shrugged. “I guess I either get some food here or I pilfer it from the mayor.”

  Cassi smirked. “I think he’s still holding a grudge from the last time you pilfered.”

  One time. I’d broken into his kitchen one time, and we got caught. “That was Tidus’s idea. He wanted to swipe the old man’s ice cream. Just horsing around.”

  Cassi knew the story. Apparently, all of Butterpond had heard. “And what did you take instead?”

  Tabby squealed as I lugged her from the car seat. The kids were too young and Cassi too sheltered to hear the truth about my teenage prank. We’d swiped a pair of panties from the mayor’s gold-digging, twenty-five-year-old wife. Some secrets were best left to the past.

  “Helped ourselves to his whiskey and cigars,” I said.

  “Which you smoked and drank in the jail cell.”

  She made it sound worse than it was. “And where do you think the evidence ended up? Sherriff Samson hadn’t had a raise in three years, but he made up for it with a box of Mayor Cowdar’s finest cigars that night.”

  Mellie squealed, stomped, and tugged on Cassi’s hand.

  “Let’s go!” Her little pout would be adorable for the next five minutes…until she had enough of the store and pitched a fit in the checkout. “Please.”

  “Future bargain shopper.” Cassi winked. She helped me settle Tabby into a cart, somehow knowing where the store kept the wet naps to sterilize every touchable surface.

  “Do you…shop here?” I asked. “This is Barlow’s place.”

  She didn’t tolerate my pouting and shoved me inside the Shop N’ Mart with a sigh.

  “We’re adults now, Rem. We can all shop in the Barlow’s family store without it devolving into chaos and bloodshed.”

  Didn’t matter that the store sold six-packs at the entrance or that the rotisserie chickens smelled so damn good. No double coupon could cheapen loyalty.

  “They’re Barlows,” I said.

  “Get used to it…unless you want to drive another thirty minutes to Hunter’s Ridge to shop for animal crackers.”

  It might have been worth it.

  “You remember the time the Barlows beat Tidus to a pulp, right?” I asked. She didn’t listen, pushing the cart into the produce section. I ignored the chipper colors and decent prices. “Remember how they used to harass Jules? Know how many tires were slashed? Fist fights?”

  Her slim finger wagged near my face. “Don’t you pretend like you and my brothers were innocent in that feud.” Mellie mimicked Cassi’s sass and wiggled her hand too. Great. They were ganging up on me. “I’ve heard the stories, Remington.”

  “From who? Your brothers would never have told you about the shit that went down.”

  She twisted a curl between her fingers. Those big eyes looked away. Guilty? Or was she actually considering purchasing the freshly misted napa cabbage?

  “I heard it from Matthew Barlow.”

  “And what the fuc—” Both little girls stared up at me with innocent eyes. “What were you doing with Matt Barlow?”

  Cassi shrugged. “He took me out for coffee.”

  My blood ran cold. Cassi with that son of a bitch?

  Out for coffee?

  Doing fucking god knew what with a Barlow Boy?

  I grunted. “What the hell did you do when I was gone?”

  The store wasn’t big enough for the massive shopping cart, let alone the four little arms that darted out in every direction to smash the fruits, vegetables, and bright candies inconveniently located next to the potato bin.

  Cassi fumed hot enough to bake every spud into dinners for the next week. She set her jaw, planted her feet, and sunk her hands onto curves she didn’t have before I left.

  The old Cassi would have stormed away. No bite but enough bluster to blow up her skirt.

  This one stood her ground on perfect hourglass hips. She puffed her perky, suddenly full chest. Turned that baby-soft dark skin into armor. And faced me down.

  Where had little Cassia Payne gone?

  And how could I convince the gorgeous woman standing in her place to go home with me?

  “While you were gone…” She threatened me with a carrot before bagging half a dozen. “I grew up.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.” I grabbed the biggest zucchini from the display and wiggled it before her. She had enough class to ignore the metaphor.

  Mellie whined and attempted to flee the cart. I helped her to the floor before she cracked her head off the linoleum. And Cassi said the kids would be hard to handle.

  “You were just a sprout when I left,” I said.

  “And now?”

  She’d placed a hand on the honeydews. The melons had nothing on her.

  “Talk about blue-ribbon produce,” I teased.

  Cassi didn’t giggle. “Well, I wasn’t waiting around to get judged, thank you very much.”

  “So you let Matt Barlow ring you up?”

  She scooted the cart towards the onions and garlic. “Once.”

  “One time too many.”

  The potatoes weren’t the only ones in the produce section with eyes. I recognized the old bitty spying from around the stacks heads of lettuce. Darla Kaslovski peeked over her cheaters before dropping the chained, pink rims to her chest. The glasses smacked off her bust and narrowly avoided getting crushed in the cavern that was sixty-six-year-old Darla’s deliberately low-cut cleavage. That sight had haunted me before I left for the logging camp. Now, the liver spots scarred a new generation.

  Mellie pointed at her, gasped, and shouted for the entire store to hear. “Ursula!”

  I didn’t know who that was, but Cassi did. She silenced the girl before Mellie delighted Darla with a medley of Disney songs.

  I gave Darla a wave. She huffed, grabbed her cart, and sped off to gossip.

  Cassi leaned in. “Hasn’t forgiven you for tie-dying her French poodle ten years ago.”

  “Should have charged the dog for that damned haircut. Beau drank more Kool-Aid than we put in his fur.”

  Mellie padded to the cart, inexplicably finding a box of Oreos. She’d ripped them open eaten three already. Whatever. It kept her quiet. I plunked her in the cart next to the broccoli.

  Cassi gestured to the opened Oreos. “Are you going to say anything?”

  Oh. Right. I pointed at Mellie. “Share with your sister.”

  “Shoplifting is the advanced childrearing course.” Cassi sighed and tucked the potatoes under the cart. “So much for her dinner.”

  “I don’t like that.” Mellie pointed
to the sack. She carefully counted every other vegetable in the cart. “Don’t like that. Don’t like that. Don’t like that.”

  Cassi pushed the girls towards the fruit. “What about apples? Do you like apples?”

  “Nope!”

  “I do.” I shooed Cassi away from the green ones. “Not those. Got enough tarts in my life.”

  “That so?”

  “I like it sweet.” I moved behind Cassi, accidentally brushing her arm. Christ, the woman even smelled like innocence—a soft whisper of vanilla. “Peaches are my favorite. Love the juice.”

  She pretended she wasn’t amused. “Until you choke on the pit.”

  “I’m much more adept than that,” I said. “Gotta use your tongue, hands, teeth.”

  “Teeth?”

  I chomped down with a smile. “I could show you.”

  She hummed. “I wouldn’t trust you with a peach—you’d leave it bruised.”

  “Sometimes that’s more fun.”

  “Ah, right.” She tiptoed her fingers over a display of almonds. “Now these…these are my favorite.”

  I winked. “All good girls like a little nut.”

  “You haven’t seen me crush one yet.”

  “Say the word, and I’ll bust one myself.”

  “Charming as ever, aren’t you, Rem?”

  “I remember you liking it.”

  “Oh, to be young and stupid again.”

  Mellie practically leapt out of the cart. I followed her gaze and grinned. “Thatta girl, Mel.”

  Apparently, we both had an affinity for cherries. I offered the bag to Cassi. She stayed quiet.

  “So, what’s Matt Barlow got on me?” I asked.

  “Nothing you’re ever going to find out.”

  “I like cherries,” Mellie said.

  “Me too, kid.” I shrugged at Cassi. “But it’s not a deal-breaker.”

  “What happens between you and your refrigerator is none of my business.” Cassi stole the cart. “Okay, let’s get you some chicken nuggets.”

  Tabby squawked, her face a mess of chocolate cookie. The sugar and excitement practically bounced Mellie into the aisles.

  “So much food!” She grinned. “I was so hungry!”

  Good thing Cassi drove the cart. My heart lurched. Hard.

  “How hungry?” Cassi played along. She didn’t know it wasn’t a game.

  “Mommy had no dinners.”

  Cassi glanced at me. Great. How the hell was I supposed to explain it with the kids right there?

  “Chemo.” I guessed a poison was a poison. “Emma would get nauseous. Didn’t like anything in sight.”

  “Poor thing.”

  Yeah. Right. “Mellie, you can have anything you want. Go ham.”

  “Ew.” She scrunched her nose. “Ham.”

  “You don’t like a lot of things, do you?”

  Cassi grinned. “Not going to get any easier.”

  No. It wasn’t, but not for the reasons she thought. I nodded behind her. Her smile faded.

  Julian Payne was the very model of a Payne man—an irritating prick with a self-righteous belief in doing what was right for the family, even if it meant pissing everyone off. Which meant I was in trouble.

  My best friend, Tidus, had sent Cassi to the cabin, but apparently, he hadn’t told his eldest brother I was in town. Or that I hauled two little girls around with me to the grocery store.

  Farm life did the boy good—Jules was what now? Thirty-three? Thirty-four?

  Old enough to take his shit seriously, and Christ, was he serious.

  “Hey, Cas.” Jules knew better than to call Cassi to his side like a dog. She wouldn’t have answered when she was a kid, and she’d probably take out his knees now. He glared at me with those sharp Payne green eyes all the men shared. “What the hell are you doing back?”

  No greeting? No small talk.

  Yeah. Probably didn’t deserve any, especially from Jules.

  “Shopping,” I said.

  “It’s fine, Jules.” Cassie edged between me, the cart, the kids, and her brother. “I’m helping Rem shop for the kids.”

  Jules frowned. “They’re yours?”

  I hadn’t become so degenerate that I was knocking up random women. “They’re my nieces.”

  “Emma’s sick,” Cas said.

  Wished she hadn’t told him. Last thing I needed was anyone spreading that news. Though anything was better than the story of Julian Payne interrogating me in the middle of the produce aisle like I was a damn criminal.

  I hadn’t broken a law or a heart in five years. I planned to keep it that way.

  Mellie introduced herself by nearly snapping her ankle as she tumbled from the cart. She spotted a display of Cheerios across the store and took off running, arms outstretched, screeching like a banshee until she collided with the boxes. They toppled over her. Mellie oophed, but she delighted in the cereal avalanche.

  Jules watched her with a cheap ass grin. “Yeah. She’s definitely a Marshall.”

  “Jules.” Cassie’s scold was noted and ignored by both of us. “He’s doing something good.”

  “For once.”

  Her voice lowered. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Think that makes it right?” Jules snapped.

  The Payne boys puffed themselves up when they thought it’d intimidate folks. Always using their strength instead of their heads. I did it too, but I learned a little too late that broad shoulders could withstand everything except the weight of everyone’s hatred.

  Jules wasn’t happy. “You think buying the kids some Oreos makes up for the money we blew and the stress we lived with? We almost lost the farm because of him!”

  Good thing Mellie had decided to construct a fort out of the cereal boxes. And Tabby didn’t understand much of what was happening anyway. Just thought of me as a giant man with hair on his chin that she could tug. The girls didn’t have a clue that I was out of my element, and they knew even less of the past that shadowed me everywhere I slunk.

  “Not looking for trouble, Jules,” I said. “Just gotta drag my niece out of Fruit Loop canyon over there, and I’ll be gone.”

  “For good?”

  “I’m not camping out in Barlow’s store. Got a cabin in the mountains.”

  “Still too close for my liking.”

  Mine too. “I’m minding my own business.”

  Jules jerked his thumb towards Cassi. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re hanging around some of our business again.”

  Cassi stiffened. “That business has a name.”

  That didn’t please her brother. “Oh, you better not be selling anything…especially to some lowlife like Remington Marshall.”

  Tabby clapped her hands. “Rem!”

  Enough was enough. I wasn’t much of a man after what I’d done, but I still had to care for my own. No sense letting the kids hear the bullshit, even if it was all true. Mellie gave me a decent escape as she now set siege to the frozen meat case from her cereal castle.

  I glanced to Cassi. “Thanks for the help. Go back with Jules. I got it from here.”

  She frowned. “Rem—”

  “I got it. Feed em, bathe em, no fires.”

  “But…”

  “All I need is another pack of diapers for the kid you seem to think should be drinking more water and milk. I’ll take care of the walking sprinkler and head home. I got this.”

  She sighed. “Don’t forget the nuggets. And some frozen veggies too.”

  We’d survive.

  “It was…” Fantastic. Mind-blowing. Heartbreaking. “Good to see you.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice softened. “Same here.”

  Jules didn’t bother looking at me. “Don’t let me catch you pissing around with Tidus or my sister. You’re no good for them.”

  It was the truth. Also didn’t matter. Only thing I had to worry about now was the baby dead-set on kicking me in the balls from the cart’s seat. Also the terror-stricken toddler suddenly wee
ping over the Cheerios box, fearing she’d hurt the cartoon bee.

  The kids were the only reason I was in town. I’d give it a couple weeks, drop them off with Emma, and I’d be done. No need to worry about anything else.

  No need to bother Cassi. To see Cassi.

  To apologize. To beg for forgiveness.

  No need to steal her back.

  I’d already hurt her once. I wouldn’t break her heart twice.

  3

  Cassi

  One overprotective big brother was a problem.

  Two was a coincidence.

  Three brothers, and it felt like a conspiracy.

  Four was ridiculous.

  Five arrogant, combative, devoted brothers was a nightmare.

  I wasn’t a little girl anymore, one who needed to have her bullies silenced or desserts snuck into her room while she was supposed to be grounded. I’d grown up. Probably more than them. Took on the responsibilities of Dad and the farm and my own education.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t need them anymore—in fact, the family needed each other more than ever.

  But…

  And that was a mighty big but…

  I didn’t need my older brother defending my honor in the middle of the produce section.

  Especially as, for the first time since I’d known the man, Rem wasn’t looking for a fight. Hell, he hadn’t even pushed back. But why? Rem had never missed a chance to brawl in a bushel of Brussels sprouts before.

  How much trouble did Remington Marshall get himself into by taking in those little girls?

  Fortunately, Butterpond had a system for conflict resolution and community outreach. When illnesses struck, chicken noodle soups and chili was delivered to the sick. When a death occurred, the residents mourned over their stoves and baked pastries until the grief passed or arteries clogged. Picnics were potluck, church events casseroles, and Christmas buried us in cookies.

  But I wasn’t sure what to bring to apologize for my brother almost turning the Shop N’ Mart into a cage match. A fruit salad didn’t say—I’m sorry, but my family has decided it’s easier to threaten you than admit how much it hurt when you left us. A pot roast should have been saved for a man who didn’t break my heart. And a pie…well, there were terrible connotations there. I wasn’t bringing a cream pie within five feet of a man who would think of it as a challenge. Apple was too obvious a temptation. And cherry?