Must Love Babies Page 6

  “Whoops, not the kind of nipples I had in mind.” He covered the baby’s eyes and closed the site. Removing his hand, he looked down at Jax, who stared back at him. “How about we make a run to the store later and see what we find?”

  He palmed the bottle his nephew had emptied earlier. “We’ll take this along so we know what we’re looking for. What do you think?”

  A beaming smile was his answer.

  The complete trust in those eyes awed Brant and left him more than a little thunderstruck at the responsibility.

  “Let me dash off a quick email to your uncles.” He had three words typed when Jax’s little hand made contact with the keyboard. Laughing, Brant asked, “Something you want to tell them?”

  “Gaa-daa.” Drool dripped from his chin, and Brant swiped at it with a tissue.

  “Bibs. Gotta get bibs.”

  Busily typing, Jax grinned up at him.

  “You didn’t say anything bad about me, did you?”

  Jax’s head bobbled from side to side.

  “I’ll take that as a negative.” Brant spaced to the bottom of Jax’s garbled mess and typed, “Love, Jax.” He hit Send. Let Tucker and Gaven figure that one out.

  He closed the laptop and set it on the nightstand.

  “Time for some shut-eye.” He shifted to his side and pulled the baby close, his head on Brant’s shoulder. This would be okay.

  His eyes drifted shut, and both Wylder men fell sound asleep.

  *

  The alarm clock on the nightstand read 11:15, and sun blazed through the blinds. He’d slept for almost an hour.

  Brant’s thoughts turned to Lainey. Guilt sucked at him. Instead of being here in bed, he should have stayed at the hospital. But they’d promised to call if anything changed, hadn’t they? He closed his eyes, physically sick at the memory of his sister’s bruised and battered face.

  He needed to call, and now would be the time to do it, since Jax was still zonked out. An inch at a time, barely breathing, Brant slid away from the baby.

  He punched in the hospital ICU’s number, and a nurse told him Lainey was doing better than expected and was awake and aware, but fretting about her son. Relief swept through him.

  Next he called his parents. “After I grab a shower and some lunch, I’ll drive back to Savannah. I’ll call when I get there, and if she’s able, you can talk to Lainey.”

  “You aren’t staying in Savannah?”

  “No. I left from the wedding, so all my stuff was still at the inn. I’d promised Tucker and Gaven I’d check out a couple locations for the shop here, too. Savannah’s close enough, I can be there in a jiff, if Sis needs me.”

  They talked for a while longer, then he hung up to phone his brothers. He filled them in on their sister’s progress and asked, “How’s that Vette?”

  “Oh, she’s one in a million,” Tucker said. “I can’t wait to make her pretty again.”

  “I doubt I’ll have a chance to look at either of those properties today.”

  “Understood.” Tucker hesitated. “Think we should take another shot at talking to the Lake Delores city council about approving our expansion plan?”

  “No,” Gaven said. “We’ve tried and tried, and they throw up one roadblock after another. Their minds are made up.”

  “We need more space,” Brant said. “The only way we’ll get it is to buy the piece of land next to our shop. Period. Without it, we’re stuck.”

  “That’s never gonna happen. Henry Roper and Jimmy Boone own that parcel and want to build an apartment building on it,” Gaven said. “Since they’re on the council…”

  “We don’t have a chance in hell,” Tucker finished. “Well, Misty Bottoms is a great location.”

  “Yeah, it is. Did you get Jax’s message?”

  “The one where he said you were being mean and begged me to rescue him?” Gaven asked.

  Brant laughed. “That’s the one.”

  They were talking engines when Jax woke up crying.

  “What’s wrong with the kid?” Tucker asked.

  “My guess? He either wants a clean diaper or food. Or both. He’s a cutie, but he’s a lot of work,” Brant muttered. “And if I don’t quiet him down, Annabelle will toss us both out on the street.”

  “She can’t do that,” Tucker said.

  “Actually, she can. She has a no-children policy.”

  “But this is an emergency,” Gaven said.

  “Not to her. If you two feel like saying a few prayers for Lainey, send up a couple for me, would you? Right now? I’ve got to go.”

  “Hey, can you change a diaper?” Tucker asked.

  “If the Force is with me.” Brant let out a frustrated sigh, then admitted, “The last change took me three diapers before I got the job done.” Jax wailed louder. “Later, guys.”

  After hanging up, Brant mixed up the last of the formula.

  He draped a burp cloth over his arm and held the bottle in front of the baby. “Your drink is prepared, monsieur. But before your liquid refreshment, you must eat.” He squinted at the jar with the happy baby on the label and wrinkled his nose. “Looks like your only option is the rest of your spinach, zucchini, and peas, mon ami. What do you think? Shall we give it a try?”

  Jax’s lip trembled, and he started to cry again.

  “Yeah, don’t blame you. I’d probably cry too, if I had to eat this. Pop a couple of teeth, and I’ll give you some real food. In the meantime, this is all we’ve got.”

  He looked around for the best spot to feed Jax and settled on the tiled bathroom floor—not the most hygienic, but definitely the easiest to clean up. Or was it? He eyed the shower stall. Whatever they spilled, he could just hose off.

  Fifteen minutes later, the baby leaning against one of Brant’s legs and held in place by his other, Brant scraped the last of the veggies from the jar. “Here we go.” He brought the plane in for a landing, sound effects and all, and managed to hit Jax’s mouth.

  “Yum. Wasn’t that great?”

  The baby smiled lopsidedly.

  Some of the baby food had splattered on the tile, but Brant figured it would wash down the drain when he showered. A high chair moved up the ladder of necessities, although he should probably stop at the hardware store for a drop cloth to put under it.

  Brant squinted at his nephew. Jax had pureed veggies in his hair, on his face and hands, and all over his outfit. Yep, and between his toes.

  Worse, the kid had messed his diaper again. The foul smell wafted to Brant.

  Another diaper change and then a clean outfit. The one he had on didn’t look or smell so good. Brant closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

  A bath would have to wait.

  Or would it? Brant desperately needed a shower himself. Why not take Jax in with him? He’d skimmed a couple of YouTube videos on bathing a baby. Neither had touted showering with an infant as an option, but nothing ventured…

  Chapter 6

  Bundled up for the cool weather, Molly sat at the small table on her sunny upstairs balcony, one of the best features of her four-room apartment. She played with her orange-cranberry muffin, crumbling it into tiny pieces.

  Instead of eating, she sipped at her coffee and called herself every kind of fool. What had she been thinking when she dug the crumpled paper out of her waste basket and called Brant last night? But darn, he’d looked so upset when he left Magnolia House.

  No wonder. His baby sister had been hurt.

  She yawned and traced her fingers over Bubbles’s head and along her back. The cat purred and arched into her hand. Molly hadn’t slept well after that call. Most of her restlessness she chalked up to concern—for him, his sister, and the rest of his family. Grudgingly, she admitted the tiniest part was Brant himself. The man was too handsome by far. Too sexy. Too…everything.

  She touched a finger to her lips. The kiss, as fleeting as it had been, had stayed with her.

  Brant had not; he was gone.

  He’d no doubt stay in S
avannah till his sister was out of the woods, then head home.

  A few cars drove slowly by on the street below, fellow Misty Bottomers heading to church or breakfast. High in one of the oaks, a Savannah sparrow serenaded her, and winter jasmine scented the air.

  Time to quit daydreaming and get something done.

  Picking up her crumb-covered plate and empty cup, Molly walked back inside, a slow smile curving her lips. She loved her new home. While her Savannah apartment had been a little on the dark side, this place had windows galore and practically begged for a light, feminine touch—which she’d been more than happy to provide. Done in pale blues and white, the rooms over her boutique felt both fresh and relaxing. The old oak floors had refinished beautifully, and the kitchen cabinets had needed only a coat of white paint to bring them back to life. Jenni Beth’s husband, Cole, had found her some incredible chandeliers through his architectural salvage company.

  One peek inside her pantry and she shook her head. She could give Old Mother Hubbard a run for her money. Past time to restock.

  Molly glanced at her worn leggings and seen-better-days sweatshirt. She should change.

  In her shop, she wore black so as not to compete with the brides, which meant nearly half of her closet was filled with dresses, skirts, slacks, and tops in the noncolor. To add flair to her outfits, she accessorized with jewelry and shoes, scarves, and hair accessories.

  But that was for work. Off duty, she craved comfort and color. Sometimes she wondered if there weren’t two of her, and she simply morphed from one skin to another.

  Today? She didn’t need to answer to anybody.

  Today she was Molly. Just Molly. Tomorrow she’d once again be the professional wedding-boutique owner.

  Besides, she’d dash into BiLo’s grocery and pick up a few essentials. In and out in a flash.

  Who’d see her?

  At the bottom of the stairs, she couldn’t resist sticking her head inside her shop. Barely a month old, her boutique enticed Molly as powerfully as Sleeping Beauty’s spinning wheel had her, but hopefully without the dire results. Stepping into That Little White Dress was like being sucked into the pages of a fairy tale, one she never wanted to escape.

  She’d stuck with her signature blue and white down here, too, both inside and out. The combination reminded her of seersucker, of whimsical summer afternoons and tea parties. Fresh, cool, and feminine.

  A white wicker basket squatted by the front door, full of blinged-out flip-flops, great gifts for wedding guests. When it came time to dance, the ladies could kick off their blister-inducing, toe-pinching heels and slip into them.

  In the far corner stood a papier-mâché live oak, resplendent in white lights and ornate bird cages and dripping with wisteria. Vintage cabinets displayed accessories, and a wall of gorgeous, once-in-a-lifetime dresses threatened to take her breath away every time she walked in. Because the gowns were so heavy, she’d ordered special heavy-duty hangers—in pale blue. Mirrors and a raised dais along with blue silk Louis XIV–style chairs completed the display room.

  Number eight on her life’s to-do list? Check.

  Never mind that her mother had begged her to lose the list and just live life. Forget Jenni Beth had suggested a bonfire to burn the list.

  Molly couldn’t. She prided herself on keeping her dreams front and center, on remembering who she was and where she was going. What she wanted in life…and what she didn’t.

  Every once in a while, she caught that special look passing between her friends and their husbands or fiancés and couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful. A bit lonely. But she’d have someone to share her life. Eventually.

  On her way to the store, Molly drove past Annabelle’s. Slowly. No Brant. No black Camaro. She told herself she wasn’t disappointed, that the feeling in the pit of her stomach was relief.

  As she walked into the grocer’s, she admitted Brant was a temptation she’d find hard to resist. And speaking of temptations, Molly tossed a package of Oreos into her grocery cart. Her favorite midnight snack. Rounding the corner, still working to convince herself she was glad Brant was gone, she almost ran over him.

  He hadn’t left town! Yes!

  No! She was mortified, and her hand instinctively flew to her hair. Why hadn’t she taken time to do more than run a brush through it? Or to change into something other than purple leggings and her favorite faded blue sweatshirt?

  Brant, on the other hand? Seeing him last night in that black tux, a girl could have melted simply catching sight of him. Today in worn jeans that hugged his hips and butt, and a forest-green, long-sleeved T-shirt, he looked rugged, badass, and every bit as delicious. Tux or jeans? How did a girl decide?

  A high-pitched squeal caught her attention, and her eyes darted to the grinning baby.

  Molly’s shocked gaze flicked to Brant and met his incredible eyes, the color of grass after a summer rain and fringed with the long, thick eyelashes women are never lucky enough to be born with. The baby in his cart shared both.

  Her forehead creased in a frown, then her stomach hit the floor as dread filled her.

  His sister. Was the baby hers? Did Brant have the baby because she’d—deep breath—because she’d died?

  No!

  “Brant?”

  “Molly.”

  “Your sister. Is she okay?”

  He nodded, and her world righted itself. She’d never met Lainey, yet her heart raced from the fear that had careened through her.

  “Molly, meet my nephew, the unpredictable, unrivaled champion sucker of the pacifier, Jax Wylder.”

  “Lainey’s son?”

  “Yep.”

  “Was Jax in the accident, too?”

  “No. Thankfully, she’d left him with a friend.”

  “Is she doing better this morning?”

  “She made it through surgery. Now she has to heal. In the meantime, Jax and I are spending some quality time together, aren’t we, kid?”

  Jax’s grin widened.

  “Don’t let that smile fool you. The little bugger’s a tyrant,” Brant warned before he shifted his attention back to the baby food section. “Look at this.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “How can there be so many things to feed a toothless kid? Shouldn’t they just drink milk from a bottle…or from their mama?”

  A whimper erupted from the baby, and Molly watched as Brant spun, wild-eyed, to his nephew.

  “Oh no, champ, not now. You don’t want to look like a wuss in front of this beautiful lady. Remember what Frankie Valli said. Walk like a man.”

  Molly watched, mesmerized, as the five-o’clock-shadowed male picked up the small baby. When he held him close, swaying and patting his back, singing the Four Seasons song, she went all tingly.

  Jax quieted, his tiny fingers finding the pocket on Brant’s T-shirt.

  Over the baby’s head, Brant shot Molly a look. “Frightening that somebody would trust me with this little guy, isn’t it?”

  “Looks like you’re doing fine.”

  “Looks can be very deceiving. I’m flying by the seat of my pants—and YouTube videos. Aren’t I, Jax?” He disentangled the baby’s fingers from his pocket and kissed each one.

  Molly sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She blushed. “Nothing at all.”

  Brant kissed the top of his nephew’s head. “Right here?” He pointed. “The consequence of sex.”

  “Sex?” Her mind blew a fuse.

  “Makes a guy think.”

  It was making her think, too. And they weren’t thoughts she should be having.

  He raised a hand and rubbed his temple. “Here’s the deal, Molly. I’m basically running on no sleep. Jax and I hung out at the hospital until Lainey was out of surgery and I talked to her doctor. Even after driving back from Savannah, I couldn’t crawl into bed, because this small mass of humanity wouldn’t allow it. The kid’s running me ragged. He eats, then he messes his diaper, and it’s time to eat again
. He’s like one of those perpetual-motion machines, you know, or that scene where Lucy and Ethel work in that candy factory and the stuff just keeps comin’ at them. I had no idea.”

  “What can I do?”

  Brant leaned against his grocery cart. “I honestly don’t know. Have you read about those sinkholes? The ones that open up and swallow everything? Right now, I feel like I’ve pitched headfirst into one.”

  “It’s temporary, though, right?”

  “I sure hope so.”

  “How old is Jax?”

  “Seven months.”

  “What are you doing now? Today?” Molly asked him.

  “After I restock diapers, formula, and baby food—” He shook his head. “Honestly, how much crap can a baby need? Anyway, after I get all the essentials…or the ones I know I need…Jax and I are making a run to Savannah. Lainey was out of it last night, then went straight to recovery after surgery, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to her. I need to see her, to let her know I’m here, that the whole family has her back.”

  Last night, she’d figured Brant for a bad-boy bachelor. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Without thought, she slipped her free hand into Brant’s and squeezed it. “She’s lucky to have y’all.” She hesitated. “Will they let you take Jax in to see her?”

  When the baby reached for her, she looked toward Brant. “Mind if I pick him up?” Without waiting for an answer, she plucked Jax from the cart. “Hey, cutie.”

  Brant blinked. “I don’t know if he’ll be allowed in or not. I honestly hadn’t even considered that. See? That’s what I mean. Everything is so complicated.” His hand plowed through his dark hair, standing bits of it on end. “If not, maybe they’ve got like, I don’t know, a day care or nursery or something.”

  “Want some company?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride to Savannah with you.” She jiggled Jax on her hip, then swiped at the drool on his chin. “While you visit your sister, Jax and I can hang out.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He tipped his head. “I can think of a thousand other things you could do on your day off. I think, Molly Stiles, that in addition to being drop-dead gorgeous, you’ve got a big heart.”