Must Love Babies Page 9

  “That was the last year they made those.”

  “Sure was pretty.” Dan pulled a pencil from behind his ear. “Know what you want?”

  “We do.” Brant tipped his head toward Molly. “Ladies first.”

  “She’s gonna have a cream cheese and olive sandwich on white, right?”

  “You’ve got it,” she said. “And a glass of water, please.”

  “A scoop of tutti-frutti afterward?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Brant’s brows drew together. “You always get the same thing?”

  “Here, yes.” She handed her menu to Dan. “I love that sandwich, and not many places serve it.”

  “Cream cheese and olives?” Brant pulled a face. “I’d hope not.”

  “Oh, you so don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I think I’ll leave it that way. The roast beef with horseradish for me.”

  “Anything to drink?”

  “A chocolate malt.”

  “Anything for the kid?”

  “No, he’d better stick with his gruel.” Brant stood the baby on his lap. “On second thought, when you bring Molly’s ice cream, bring us a child’s scoop of vanilla. Jax and I will share it.”

  “You got it.”

  “Do you have high chairs?”

  “We do. I’ll drop off your order, then be back with one.” Dan hustled off.

  “I guess you were a regular here.” Brant steadied Jax as he tried out his wobbly little legs.

  “I had to be on East Broad every Thursday for a meeting, so I’d stop here for lunch.”

  They ate, they talked, they laughed. Brant felt better than he had since before his dad’s call.

  While he fed Jax, now strapped into his own seat, Molly shared her dreams for her new shop, and he told her about Wylder Rides.

  “Gaven and I started it. Tucker signed up for a stint with the Marines after his third year of college. The man’s hell on wheels when it comes to working on anything with a motor. Even better, he’s got a head for business, so when he decided not to re-up this last time, it was a good fit all around for him to join us.” He took too big a pull on his shake and rubbed at his forehead. Brain freeze. “Right now, we have some serious growing pains, so we’re scouting for a new shop location.”

  Yet another opening to mention that Misty Bottoms was their first choice, but again he held back.

  “Good luck with that. Jenni Beth and the girls took me under their wings and smoothed out a lot of bumps.”

  “Friends will do that for you.”

  “They will.”

  “Thanks for being my friend today, Molly. I’d dreaded this trip.”

  Her dimples deepened with the smile she sent him. “More than glad to help, friend.”

  Dan brought their sandwiches, and they tucked into them. Brant ate one-handed and fed Jax his bottle with the other hand. He was getting the hang of this.

  “Can I ask you something, Molly?”

  “Sure—and maybe I’ll answer.”

  He smiled. “Fair enough. You don’t really know me, but you came with me today.”

  “Cole and Beck know you, and if they call you friend, you’re a good person.”

  “Wow. Okay. So what should I know about you, Molly?”

  “I’ll share one thing. Then it’s your turn.”

  “Okay.”

  “I like an open window when I sleep.”

  “Me? I sleep in the buff.”

  A quick laugh escaped. “Good to know—I guess. I can’t top that, so I’ll go with my favorite candy bar. A Peppermint Patty, with Three Musketeers only a step behind.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  “No, I can’t.” She pulled a face. “Okay, how’s this? I had a major crush on my eleventh-grade language arts teacher.”

  “All those dangling participles?”

  She swatted him. “Your turn.”

  The sharing didn’t go deep. Still, it was a start.

  “Your turn, Jax. Tell Ms. Molly who your favorite uncle is.”

  Turning on his megawatt smile, Jax babbled.

  “Come on,” Brant urged. “Uncle…”

  The baby made a sound.

  “Brant.”

  Molly laughed. “Eat your sandwich, goofball.”

  He did. Molly made quick work of hers, too. Then their ice cream came, and they settled down to enjoy it, with Brant stealing a few bites of Molly’s tutti-frutti.

  He smacked his lips. “Much better than plain vanilla.”

  “Vanilla is very overrated.”

  She sat across from him, her incredible dark hair framing that stunning face and those dancing eyes. “Yes, it is,” he agreed.

  When they finished, Molly swooped Jax up for another diaper change before they hit the road. “My turn.”

  “Far be it from me to argue with a lady.”

  “Right.”

  Afterward, following her out the door, Brant’s libido couldn’t help but wish for a little more than friendship. Watching Molly and listening to her musical laugh and slow, sexy drawl did things to him…made him want things he’d put on the back burner.

  Not that he was a monk. He’d dated and even had a couple of semiserious flings. But Molly? He didn’t see her as fling material.

  Ten miles outside of town, his phone rang. “Hey, Tuck. What’s up?”

  “That’s what I want to know. How’s Lainey?”

  In the back seat, Jax waved his hands and jabbered loudly.

  Brant laughed. “You get all that, Bro?”

  “I got the part about you being incompetent, but I didn’t catch the rest.”

  “Hah, hah. Lainey told me you and Gaven called.”

  “Yeah, it was short and bittersweet. She’s really down on herself.”

  “She is—and rightly so. I know it’s been tough for her, but she should have asked for help instead of running away. That never works.” Brant filled his brother in on his visit. Halfway through, Molly laid her hand over his.

  Thank you, he mouthed.

  “Why don’t you find some good-lookin’ gal to keep you and the kid company? You can let her—”

  “Before you go any further, big brother, you need to know you’re on speaker and that Molly Stiles is with me.”

  The silence was so complete, Brant thought his brother had hung up.

  “Molly, you really there?” Tucker asked.

  With a Cheshire-cat grin, she answered, “Yes, I am, Tuck. How are you today?”

  “I’ll let you know just as soon as I remove my left foot from my mouth. I apologize.”

  She laughed. “There’s nothing to apologize for, but I’ll keep my eyes open for a good-looking gal for your brother. One I assume will take over baby duty.”

  Tucker’s groan was more than audible.

  “Actually, Molly did sit with Jax today while I visited Lainey. Her first ever babysitting job.”

  They talked another few minutes. Tucker apologized again, and Brant clicked off.

  “And that was my older brother. Believe it or not, he doesn’t usually talk much.”

  “That might not be so bad, all things considered.”

  They locked gazes, and both laughed.

  When they reached her apartment, Brant hopped out, surprised at how much the temperature had dropped. “Brrr. It must be close to forty.” He walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. “You should have worn a jacket.”

  “I’ll be fine. I don’t have far to go.”

  He took her hand to help her out and marveled again at how delicate she was, how good she smelled.

  She leaned into the back to give the sleeping baby a light kiss on the cheek. “’Bye, sweetie.”

  “Thanks again, Molly.”

  She turned. “No prob—”

  He kissed her, his hands on either side of her face. The night warmed up, and for that brief moment, nothing existed but him and this woman. He changed the angle, took the kiss a beat deepe
r, traced her pouty lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

  Disoriented, he lifted his head. “Sorry. That probably shouldn’t have happened.”

  Her dusky eyes met his. “Probably not.”

  But she didn’t move. Didn’t step back.

  After a heartbeat, his hands settled on her hips, held her there so close, the soft cotton of her sweater brushed his arm.

  “I’d like to see you again.”

  “Why?”

  Her blunt question disconcerted him. “I think you’re—” Sexy? Drop-dead gorgeous? Hot? “Interesting,” he said on a sigh.

  “Uh-huh.” She hesitated. “Brant, I’m glad I could help today, and despite the situation, I enjoyed myself. You and Jax are great company, but we both know there’s no future here.”

  “Does there need to be?”

  A perplexed expression flickered across her face, in her eyes. Her tongue peeked out between those glorious lips, and he nearly groaned.

  “No, there doesn’t. But you and me? We both have responsibilities we can’t set aside because of—whatever this is.”

  “You’re right.” Reluctantly, he removed his hands. “Good night, Molly.”

  When she opened her mouth to respond, his lips covered hers again, hot and demanding, cutting off her words.

  “What—?”

  “That’s the question I’m asking myself.”

  She frowned.

  “I’ve been watching those lips drop kisses on Jax all day. I wanted one taste, but one wasn’t enough. Neither was two.” He drew her to him, his eyes on hers. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned in till their lips were a breath away.

  “I want you, Molly. You feel it, too.”

  “I’m not a one-night stand, Brant.”

  “No. You wouldn’t be.”

  “You won’t be here long enough for us even to have this conversation.”

  He held out his hand, rocked it back and forth in a we’ll-see-about-that motion. Then he got into the car and drove away.

  What had he been thinking?

  *

  Molly stood in front of her store, the twilight deepening around her. What had just happened? Brant was—whew! Where to start? Smart, sexy, funny, a good conversationalist, sexy, a fantastic kisser, loyal to his family, and had she mentioned sexy?

  And oh my gosh. Jax! What a sweetie! Those chubby little cheeks and incredible green eyes. When he giggled, she swore her womb started singing.

  But to stand out here on the street, where any Misty Bottomer could drive by, and allow Brant to practically swallow her whole? Allow, heck. She’d participated. His car was long out of sight, but her heart still raced fast enough to catch up to him.

  This couldn’t happen again. Once? Impulse. A fluke. Twice? Impossible. She’d be ready if she ran into him and that sweet baby again.

  “Okay, enough, Molly!” She unlocked the door, then leaned against the jamb, studying her quiet shop, a streetlight filtering through the big front window. “Here’s your dream. The rest, both men and babies, has to wait.”

  But oh, today when Brant had passed Jax to her, she’d been totally unprepared for the emotions that swirled through her. She found herself leaning into him, breathing in his baby scent. Baby shampoo and lotion…and baby cuteness. Yes, that had an addictive smell, too.

  His silky, fly-away hair had tickled her nose, and she’d found herself wishing he was hers. The longing for a baby to cuddle, to spoil, to love had flooded through her. She wanted to watch her own baby crawl for the first time, wanted to laugh and go all tingly while Daddy filmed it.

  And she would.

  But what if…what if…she waited too long? What if she didn’t find that someone special when the time came? What if she missed the one meant for her? What if someone like Brant—

  She laid a hand over her heart. What was so magical about thirty? Did she really have to wait for an arbitrary number?

  It was stupid to ask when she knew the answer. It wasn’t just the number. It was this shop. Her independence. Security.

  Her father.

  Keith.

  This afternoon, playing pat-a-cake with Lainey’s little boy, none of those had seemed important, but they were.

  She refused to give up her dreams.

  After hurrying upstairs to her apartment, she flicked on the overhead lights and hit the Power button on her stereo. A purring Bubbles emerged from the shadows to rub against her legs.

  “We’re good, aren’t we, sweetheart? You and me.” She petted the cat.

  She put on a light jacket. Grabbing her list and a cup of coffee, she slipped out of her espadrilles and into warm slippers and headed outside, Bubbles at her heels.

  Her gaze dropped to the aged paper with its faded black-and-white print. Reason number nine. Ages 28–30. Pour my soul into my business. It’ll be the best! That’s what she’d been doing and needed to continue. Only then could she move on to number ten. Meet my future husband and say I do!

  And yeah, the timetable with the age and all might seem a bit silly, but it had worked for her so far. Goal setting was important and having a plan to reach them even more critical. Her eyes strayed to number eleven. My first baby, a little boy.

  Brant’s nephew felt so right in her arms. Would her son be anything like him?

  If she was very, very lucky, he would.

  She sipped her rapidly cooling coffee and, centering herself, stared out into the quiet.

  Sunday evening, and not a creature was stirring. All of Misty Bottoms was in for the night, getting ready for the new work week. By now, the kids had either finished their homework or were fighting with their parents about it. Dinner dishes had been cleared, showers taken, and pj’s on in time for that favorite wind-down TV show.

  Molly missed her mother, missed the chaos of her coworkers in Savannah. But she liked setting her own pace, too. She liked not worrying about what somebody else preferred, what someone else wanted to do. Living on her own was freeing.

  And just a little bit lonely.

  And, yes, she was just that little bit hungry for another taste of Wylder lips.

  Chapter 8

  After stopping at Tommy’s Texaco for gas and a just-in-case emergency midnight snack, Brant unlocked his door and carted Jax inside. By sneaking up the back stairs, he’d managed to avoid any of Annabelle’s other guests.

  Moonlight drifted through the windows. It was six o’clock and already dark outside. He was ready for summer, with its longer days. Flopping on the bed, he muttered, “Give me two seconds here, kiddo, and we’ll see about your dinner.”

  The words had barely passed his lips when Jax started to cry. Brant’s chin dropped, and he rolled off the bed, barely resisting the urge to cry himself. Tears. They might mean Jax was hungry or wet. Lonely or mad. All or any or none of those.

  With a resigned sigh, he unstrapped Jax and brought him up to his shoulder. “Oh, phew!” Extending his arms, he held the baby away from him. “You stink again.”

  The baby let out a couple of hiccupping cries.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s get you changed.”

  Tossing a towel on the bedroom carpet, he placed Jax in the center of it. With the wipes, wastebasket, and diapers within easy reach, he settled down to business. Concentrating, tongue between his teeth like a three-year-old with crayons, Brant barely resisted throwing his arms in the air in victory when he managed the change with more finesse than ever.

  “Suppose you want to eat now, don’t you?”

  Happy again, Jax shook a drool-covered rattle.

  “Tell you what. How about we work on that crawl before dinner?”

  Jax rolled onto his stomach and got his knees under him.

  “Well, I’ll be darned. You understood, didn’t you?”

  Jax jabbered, moved three inches, and toppled. Like the Wylder warrior he was, he raised up again.

  Brant kicked off his shoes, pulled off a sock, and tossed it a few inches in front of the baby. Jax immediately scrambled
for it. Picking it up, he sat down on his newly diapered butt, waving the sock like a checkered flag.

  Brant snatched it from him and threw it again, a little farther away.

  Jax was off again.

  Brant laughed. “Who needs a dog to play fetch?”

  After a few more practices, Jax stuck his fist in his mouth and sucked on it.

  “Message received. Hunger strikes.” He eyed their choices. “Since we stocked up earlier, zee chef has a wide selection of veritable treats for the palate.” He held up a jar of beets, and Jax stuck out his tongue.

  “Okay, how about this?” Brant palmed a jar of pureed pork.

  “Bababa!”

  “Actually, bababa would be lamb, Einstein, but close enough. Pork it is.”

  Spoonful by painful spoonful, Brant fed him. He made swooshing sounds. “Here comes the race car in for repair. Open the garage door wide.”

  Jax joined in the game, but when he spit out two mouthfuls in a row, Brant set aside Annabelle’s spoon and bowl. “Okay, we’re done here.” He swiped the worst of the pork out of the baby’s ears and off his forehead and cheeks.

  Using a tissue to capture a glob on Jax’s toe, he said, “I’ll swear under oath I have no idea how that got there, small stuff.” He rocked back on his heels. “I need a shower to wash away the hospital stench. Wanna join me?”

  The clean diaper came off, and Brant hauled the naked little boy into the shower. Jax slapped at the water, giggling and jabbering—until he tipped his head back and got a nose full. Playtime over.

  And Brant had yet to lather up.

  After a couple of sneezes, Jax cleared the downed water and stopped crying. He snuggled quietly, curled against Brant’s bare chest.

  If there had been a hidden camera in this room, somebody somewhere would have been laughing his ass off. At the same time, Brant was astounded at the peace he felt, the belief that all would be well.

  But he really did need to wash. After the quickest and least satisfying one-handed shower of his life, he wrapped Jax in a towel and used another to dry himself. Holding the baby in front of the mirror, Brant used a face towel to wipe away the shower haze.

  He leaned close and stuck out his tongue.

  Jax giggled and opened his mouth. His little tongue moved, but he couldn’t quite pull off the trick.

  Brant slowly stuck out his tongue again.