Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  Brant swore. His sister had derailed in high school and fallen into the bottle. “She’s been sober for five years, Dad.”

  “She has. Or so we thought.”

  His father sounded wearier and older than he ever had, and Brant found himself cursing whatever had made Lainey take that first drink—the first tonight and the first all those years ago.

  “Even if your mom could fly, Son, it’d be tomorrow before we could get there. Lainey needs someone now, and I can’t leave your mother.”

  “No, you can’t.” Since his warm, fun-loving mother had had a stroke, Dad had his hands full as her caregiver.

  His heart thundering, Brant gripped the steering wheel. “Where’s Jax? Did Lainey have the baby with her?”

  “No. She left him with a friend.”

  “Thank God!”

  His dad cleared his throat again. “That’s the rest of the problem, though. When the friend caught wind of what happened, she dropped Jax off at the hospital. Said she had to work, and he wasn’t her responsibility.”

  “Nice friend.”

  “Yeah, and now somebody needs to get him.”

  “Get the baby?” Sweat trickled down Brant’s spine as he signaled and passed a car moving slower than a bus full of tourists on Nashville’s Music Row.

  “A policewoman who worked the accident scene was still at the hospital when Lainey’s friend showed up. She’s with Jax now, but if somebody doesn’t come for him, they’ll place my grandson in temporary foster care.”

  “Foster care?” Brant’s fingers tunneled through his hair. “Jax is only, what, eight or nine months old?”

  “Seven.”

  Geez! Seven? Dread clawed through Brant’s brain and worked its way to the tips of his toes.

  “Brant, your mother’s calling for me. I have to go. Keep in touch, will ya?”

  “But—”

  “Gotta go. You’ll do fine, Son. We can always count on you.”

  A heavy weight settled over Brant. “Yeah.”

  “Drive carefully, you hear? Don’t need both of you in the ER.”

  “I will, and I’ll call as soon as I know anything. Give Mom a kiss for me.”

  He clicked off and glanced in the rearview mirror, flinching at the wild expression in his eyes. Hadn’t he less than an hour ago tempted fate by thinking that, despite a few bumps, life right now was good? Had he jinxed them?

  “Come on, Lainey,” he whispered. “Be strong. Whatever’s going on in your life, we’ll sort it out.”

  His Camaro ate up the miles while questions piled up in his head. The full moon had been romantic back in the rose garden, but on this abandoned stretch of road, it decided to play hide-and-seek behind the cloud cover. The car’s headlamps cut through the darkness, reminding him exactly how alone he was.

  A rush of emotions filled him—anger, helplessness, frustration. And overlying everything? An aching layer of sadness.

  When Chris Young came on the radio singing “I’m Comin’ Over,” a sliver of regret slipped in as Brant thought of the pretty brunette in the plum-passion dress. A second helping of those perfect lips would have been nice.

  He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t even given her an explanation. Probably better that way. No expectations.

  Fog rolled in, and he slowed a bit. With Misty Bottoms hugging the river, no doubt the people here dealt with it often. He ran his wipers to rid his windshield of the light mist.

  Then his mind turned back to his sister. What would he find at the hospital?

  Chapter 2

  Molly stood beside her car long after the night swallowed Brant’s taillights. Then, the silver charm clutched tightly in her fist, she made her way back inside, stopping to hug Tansy. “That cake was outstanding!”

  “Thanks.” Tansy tipped her head. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Tired. That’s all.”

  It wasn’t her place to say anything about Brant’s call. At least not until she knew more—which would probably be never, since she doubted she’d see him again. She’d overheard enough to understand he had a problem and could only hope it wasn’t too serious. Leaving the kitchen, she closed her eyes and whispered a little prayer that everything would be okay.

  The tulle and lace dream-come-true creation hung in the bridal suite. Molly took one last look at the fairy-tale wedding dress, its crystals sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Gently, she swaddled the gown in the garment bag, readying it for the trip home with Kathy’s mother. She added the charm, and her job was done.

  Someday she’d have her own fairy tale. But not now.

  Walking down the sweeping staircase, she slowed. No Brant Wylder waited at the bottom or lounged on the porch.

  Her mind flashed back to the moment he’d answered his phone. Disbelief and horror, along with a sense of urgency, had radiated from him. Something had upset the balance in his world. Her first guess might have been that it was a business problem, but his expression spoke of something more personal. She’d checked her phone, but there were no reports of plane accidents, so his brothers should be okay.

  The call had taken the magic out of the evening, and she’d been sorry when Brant disappeared into the night without so much as a goodbye. Almost any man looked good in a tux, but him? Geez Louise, the man was gorgeous. Totally, absolutely, blazing-inferno gorgeous. The stuff of dreams.

  And she’d cut out her tongue before she shared that with Jenni Beth, Cricket, or Tansy, her friends who created these incredible weddings. The three of them were so gaga in love, they thought everyone else should be, too. If they caught so much as a whiff of the single shared kiss between her and Brant, they’d have her waltzing down the aisle with him.

  True, his almost offhand kiss made every other one she’d ever experienced seem like amateur hour. If he put his heart into it? Complete meltdown. However, despite what her friends would say, that didn’t hint at a wedding in her near future.

  Yeah, weddings and romance were her business. Her business. She could not, would not, be distracted. That Little White Dress was her life right now; Brant wasn’t. He was here today, gone tomorrow—or rather tonight—and she’d better darned well remember that. Besides, Wylder had already lied to her. Despite his disclaimer, the man definitely knew his way around the dance floor.

  A big sigh escaped as she headed for the pantry, where she’d left her purse. She’d mapped out her life years ago and penciled in a wedding after her business had taken off. Of course, she still needed to find Mr. Right.

  Others might waltz willy-nilly through their lives. Not her. She’d set a course and drawn a timetable. For the next three years, she’d concentrate on her business.

  She’d stumbled off course once. Big mistake. Huge mistake! She’d met Keith and had fallen hard. Absolutely certain he loved her, she’d convinced herself they’d be together forever. But Keith had little by little grown distant. She’d found out why when he confessed to sleeping with the office worker in the cubicle next to his.

  She’d cried herself to sleep that night…and the next. The following day, she packed up anything and everything in her apartment that reminded her of him and tossed the lot out with the garbage. Then she took a good, long, hot shower and hit Reset. Lesson learned—as if her mom and dad hadn’t been enough.

  “Jenni Beth, unless you need me, I’m out of here.”

  “We’re good, Mol.” Jenni Beth peeked around the corner, two candlesticks in hand. “Thanks for all your help. Go home and put up your feet. Or catch some sleep.”

  “I plan to do both.”

  “I saw you and the Wylder brother on the dance floor.” Jenni Beth arched a brow. “You looked pretty cozy.”

  Molly wagged a finger at her. “No, you don’t. Just because you’re in love, you don’t get to wish it on everybody else.”

  Jenni Beth wrapped an arm around her friend’s waist. “Not all men are like Keith—or your dad.”

  “I know that. I really do. But I ha
ve a lot to take care of before I settle into a relationship.”

  Jenni Beth sighed. “Your list again? I wish you’d burn that.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Why’d Brant tear out of here like the hounds of hell were after him?”

  “I don’t know. He got a phone call and left.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm is right. ’Night.”

  “Wait.” Jenni Beth set the candlesticks on the buffet. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Something’s taken the sparkle out of your eyes. Did Brant do something? Say something to upset you? Is that why he left so quickly?”

  “No!”

  “You know what?” Jenni Beth looked toward the doorway where Cricket and Tansy stood. “We’ve worked our butts off today. What do you say we take a minute to celebrate?”

  Tansy held up a bottle of champagne.

  Cricket nabbed four glasses, and before Molly could say a word, she found herself seated at the big island in the Beaumonts’ kitchen.

  After a toast to Magnolia Brides and another to themselves, Jenni Beth reached out for Molly’s hand. “So fess up, pal. What’s wrong?”

  Molly folded her hands. What could she say? That if Brant Wylder lived close, he could become a major distraction? Worse, that she wished he lived next door?

  That wouldn’t do.

  “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just—well, let me preface this by saying I’m so happy for y’all. Jenni Beth, you and Cole had a rocky start, but now? Newlyweds. Tansy, you and Beck got your second chance, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen two people so right for each other.” She sipped her bubbly.

  “And then there’s you, Cricket.” Molly grinned at Beck’s eccentric cousin. “You moved back to Misty Bottoms to start a flower shop and fell in love with Sam.”

  Tansy’s Caribbean-blue eyes narrowed. “Your point?”

  “You all found love when you least expected, and that’s wonderful. But it’s not for me. Not yet, anyway.” She shrugged. “Today’s wedding kicked off a bunch of foolish what-ifs. Like the twenty-four-hour flu, though, it’ll be gone in the mornin’.”

  After accepting a boxed piece of leftover wedding cake and a round of cheek kisses, Molly escaped. Tomorrow, she and the girls would gear up for their next wedding. At the end of Magnolia House’s long driveway, she sang along with Kelsea Ballerini as she turned toward home, her thoughts returning to Brant and the dance they’d shared. To that should-have-been-innocent kiss. To the smolder and heat and wanting it left behind.

  *

  The gravel crunched beneath Molly’s tires as she pulled into her parking space behind her shop. She’d forgotten to turn on a light when she left that morning, and her upstairs apartment looked dark and lonely. The newly repainted door creaked as she opened it, and she hustled up the stairs, dropping her purse on a small table before snapping on the lamp.

  Bubbles, her cat, skidded around the corner to weave between her legs.

  “Hello, sweetie.” She twirled. “This is the first of my once-worn dresses for girls who can’t afford one for the prom. I know I can talk other bridesmaids into donating theirs.” Kneeling, she rubbed the old cat’s head. “Every girl deserves her special night, and we can help with that, can’t we?”

  The cat meowed.

  “Glad you agree, sweetheart.”

  Molly slid out of her shoes, wiggled her toes, and groaned at the sheer pleasure of bare feet. As much as she loved shoes, she also loved shucking them at the end of the day.

  Reaching around, she unzipped her bridesmaid’s dress. The plum-colored chiffon pooled around her feet. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sofa, dressed in nothing but the pale-lavender lingerie she’d bought especially for today. An unashamed girlie girl, she moved to the bedroom in her sexy new undies to hang up the dress.

  Belting her favorite silk robe, her thoughts returned to Brant. She’d noticed him earlier, propped casually against a porch column, watching her. When he asked for a dance and took her hand, she’d felt his calluses and understood he wasn’t some pretty boy who lived off his trust fund. Brant worked for a living, and she liked that.

  Then she’d practically stopped thinking as he’d pulled her close on the outside dance floor. Right there, under the stars, she’d all but melted into one big puddle. Brant practically smoldered, and he smelled every bit as good as he looked.

  And the kiss…

  Oh yeah, she’d wanted that second one. When she’d felt an honest-to-gosh vibration, she assumed it was her body wakening after nearly a year’s hiatus from all things male. Then he drew away to answer his phone, and that carefree, devil-may-care expression had disappeared.

  Since she had no way of contacting him, she’d have to keep wondering what had happened.

  Bubbles threaded her way between Molly’s legs again. Reaching down, she picked up the cat and cuddled her, stroking the soft, white fur. She’d call Jenni Beth in the morning. Maybe she’d know how to get in touch.

  Yep, and the fact she even considered doing that proved she was right to be wary of Brant. Bad idea. If she called Jenni Beth, her friend would start matchmaking. Maybe she could call Russell, one of the other groomsmen. He’d know how to get in touch with Brant—and he’d still be awake.

  Before she could stop herself, she set Bubbles on the floor and made the call. She’d been right about Russell being awake. A whole group had moved the party to Duffy’s Pub. Grabbing a notepad, she scribbled Brant’s number, thanked Russell, and hung up. The second she dropped the pencil onto her nightstand, she fell backward onto her bed, an arm over her eyes. She couldn’t phone Brant. Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the trash.

  Time for a refresher course. She stepped into her closet, pulled a baby-blue box from the top shelf, and carried it to her bed. Bubbles jumped up, padding to the center before dropping like a deadweight. Eyes unblinking, the cat seemed to ask, “What? I want to see what you’re doing.”

  Molly dropped onto the bed’s edge and, with a deep breath, opened the box. She plucked out a dog-eared sheet of paper, her gaze shifting to a picture that stuck out of the pile. How had it survived her purge? She worked the photo out, and Keith Adair smiled up at her with those movie-star good looks that had blinded her to what lay beneath.

  The photo joined the phone number in her wastebasket.

  “There’s a time and place for everything,” she reminded herself, rubbing her temples. “Now is not the time to get sidetracked by a guy. Not even a good-looking one who can dance. One who has the most beautiful, intense green eyes I’ve ever seen…”

  With a meow, Bubbles stretched out one paw to tap Molly’s leg.

  “I’m glad you agree.” After plumping a pillow beneath her head, she sprawled on the bed and read aloud from the yellowed paper.

  My To-Do List

  By Molly Shea Stiles—Age Thirteen

  1. Age 15—Find a better job than cleaning stinky Mrs. T’s house

  2. Age 16—Driver’s license!

  3. Age 17.5—Acceptance from University of Georgia

  4. Age 18—Walk across the stage for my high school diploma

  5. Age 22—Graduate from college!!

  6. Age 23—Land a great job and an apartment of my own

  7. Age 25—Accumulate lots of money in my savings account

  8. Age 27—Open my own business

  9. Ages 28–30—Pour my soul into the business. It’ll be the best!

  10. Age 30—Meet my future husband and say I do!

  11. Age 32—My first baby, a little boy

  12. Age 34—Give my son an adorable baby sister, even if he doesn’t want one

  13. Ages 35–52—Raise my children and send them off to a good college

  14. Age 56—Sell my thriving business and retire

  15. Age 57—Enjoy a second honeymoon in Hawaii

  16. Age 62—Rock my first grandbaby to sleep

  So far, goals one through eig
ht had been checked off—right on time.

  Just one short month ago, her emotions ricocheting between throw-up nervous and jump-up-and-down happy, she’d ended her lease on her small apartment in Savannah and made the move to Misty Bottoms.

  Jenni Beth, Cricket, and Tansy had welcomed her into their destination wedding business, and her bridal boutique was doing far better than she’d expected. Besides today’s wedding, That Little White Dress had already sold another wedding dress and five more bridesmaid gowns. On top of that, she had two appointments this week with future Magnolia brides.

  For the next few years, she’d pour everything she had, everything she was, into her business. That Little White Dress would be the best wedding shop this side of the Mississippi!

  She’d work at giving others their perfect wedding day, the beginning of their happily-ever-after. How many would actually have that, though? So much of what little girls had programmed into them from an early age turned out to be fantasy.

  Thoughts of her mom and dad crowded in. Did she want to wrap her world around a man? Trust he would stay with her forever?

  She had a good life; she should be content.

  She looked again at numbers ten through sixteen. Yeah, everyone around her was pairing off, and yes, she was in the business of selling dreams. But was this list simply another way of buying into a false dream? Planning her entire life around something that wouldn’t last?

  Brant Wylder sure wouldn’t, so if she was smart—and she was—she wouldn’t give him another thought.

  Chapter 3

  Offering silent but profound thanks to the genius who’d invented navigation apps, Brant swerved into the hospital’s parking lot.

  With his heart racing, he loped through the ER’s automatic doors. Hard vinyl chairs filled with the sick and injured greeted him, but a quick scan found no Lainey. No Jax.

  A nurse, who reminded him way too much of Nurse Ratched, sat behind a window.

  When she finally deigned to look up from her computer, he said, “My sister, Lainey Wylder, was brought in tonight. Car accident. Can you tell me how she is? Where she is?”

  She opened a new screen on her computer. “Your name?”