Must Love Babies

by Lynnette Austin

  A lot of new stores had opened, and limping-along ones now thrived. Cursing as the uneven brick street gave his Camaro’s suspension a workout, he shot a quick glance at the rearview mirror. Jax hadn’t stirred.

  And then the day got a whole lot better. There they were. Both That Little White Dress and its owner. Since the street was nearly empty this early, he pulled in a couple of car lengths behind her Mini. Molly stood on a stepladder, struggling to replace a bulb. A gentleman would’ve gotten out to help. Brant stayed put.

  This morning she wore the very definition of the little black dress. Whatever it was made of hugged her body in all the right places.

  He nearly swallowed his tongue as she stretched that last little bit. The dress inched up, revealing more of legs that would make any grown man salivate…and he proved no exception. On her feet? Another pair of those killer heels.

  In a heartbeat, the temperature morphed from a cool winter morning to a midsummer scorcher.

  Off-limits, off-limits, off-limits, he chanted. A looker like her? Out of your league.

  He rested an arm on his open car window. Curiosity had him checking to see who caught this show on a regular basis. Across the street, the wine and cheese shop’s windows would afford one heck of a view. So would the insurance company’s. Anybody driving by would undoubtedly slow to take advantage of it, too. Heck, maybe he’d have to drive by Molly’s shop more often—just in case.

  Brant opened his door and slid from the car. Afraid to make even the slightest noise, he left his door unlatched.

  He tapped Molly on the arm, heard her quick squeak of surprise, and set his hands at her waist as she swiveled. His eyes nearly popped from their sockets. The little black dress took on a whole new attitude, viewed from the front. A deep V neckline kicked conservative all to hell and back.

  She flipped out earbuds, her full, strawberry-wine lips breaking into a smile. “Good morning. You’re up and around early.”

  “So are you.”

  She grimaced. “Lots to do.”

  “The kid and I are riding around, checking out the town. Actually, he’s in the car sawing logs while I drive him. We didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “He’s out of his routine.”

  “He’s not alone. Why don’t you let me finish that?” Without batting an eye, he lifted her from the short ladder and set her down on those incredible shoes. In five seconds flat, he had both the new bulb and the cover in place. “Anything else?”

  He folded the stepladder.

  “Just a box that needs to go inside.” Stopping beside his car, she bent and studied the sleeping baby. “He’s so sweet. You just want to pick him up and cover him in kisses, don’t you?”

  He crowded her, stood way too close—and liked it. “Yeah, he looks like a little angel. One of those cherubs on greeting cards.”

  She nodded.

  “Problem is, any minute now he’ll wake up and start to cry or mess his diaper or insist on being fed or held or…” He shook his head. “And God help me, I thought it was so great he’d learned to crawl. I take it back. Nothing is safe, including him. If there’s trouble, the kid heads right to it. No fear. In him. Me? Permanent stress overload.”

  “You’ll get through this.” She laid her hand over his, then moved to her Mini and slid a box from the back seat.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Some new belts and accessories. I can’t wait to see them.”

  “A little like Christmas?”

  She grinned. “With every single shipment.”

  He studied her storefront, its name in a fancy font on the large front window: That Little White Dress. Beneath it, Happily Ever After Starts Here was written in a smaller font.

  “A Cinderella store.”

  “Excuse me?” She hoisted the box a little higher and pulled a set of keys from her pocket.

  “You know. Cinderella. Her fairy godmother did all that bibbidi-bobbidi-booing, and everything Cinderella wanted was right there in front of her. Your boutique is a place where grown-up little girls make their dreams come true. That’s a good thing.” Arms out, he stepped toward her. “Let me take that.”

  “I can manage.”

  “You aren’t actually planning to make me look bad, are you, carrying it yourself while I stand here empty-handed?”

  “Will Jax be okay?”

  “Unless you plan on making me haul it a couple miles down the road. My window’s cracked, so I’ll hear him if he needs me.” He took the box in one arm and yawned. “Sorry.”

  With narrowed eyes, he studied her. “I know you didn’t jump on it the other day, but I’m still open to giving you some time with an absolutely adorable baby. I’ll even forgo the rental fees.”

  She laughed. “Fantastic offer, but I’ll pass. Wouldn’t want to deny you that bonding time.”

  Red eyed from lack of sleep, Brant glared at her.

  “Ooh, scary. But the answer’s still no. I have a business to run, Brant.”

  “So do I.”

  “Yes, you do. But you also have brothers to pick up the slack. Here, I’m it. A business of one.” She bit her lower lip. “Although that has to change. I need a seamstress for alterations. My dream is to find a wizard with a needle and thread who can also watch the shop in a pinch. If wishes were fishes…”

  “Amen to that. This shop’s a big undertaking. Must take a lot of capital to get something like this up and running, with the stock and all.”

  Her expression went flat, and Brant sensed he’d stepped on forbidden ground. “That would come under the heading of none of my business.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She bounced her keys in one hand. “My dad fronted the money—big mistake. I should have gone to a bank.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s…difficult, and our relationship is…” She flipped her hand back and forth. “Tenuous.”

  He raised a brow.

  “And now you want the whole story.” She glanced down the street.

  “Only if you want to get it off your chest.” Resolutely, he kept his eyes on her brown ones, refusing to let them drift lower to the very fine chest showcased by her little black dress.

  She rearranged a couple of totes in the back of her car.

  “Want those inside, too?”

  She shook her head. “My father expects perfection. He’s my dad, and I love him, but I’ve always felt the need to prove myself. I shouldn’t, because he certainly screwed up.”

  “Was he abusive?”

  “Not physically, no. He never laid a hand on me. Nor on my mother. His problem was more apathy, I suppose. But he’s a big part of the reason I need to stay focused and do whatever it takes to make a go of this.” Steady and determined, her gaze met his. “Why I can’t get involved with anyone.”

  “Message received.”

  “Look.” Her tongue peeked out between her lips. “I like you, okay? But right now I don’t want or have time for anything serious.”

  “Good, because I don’t want that, either. I’m not even sure I like you.”

  “What?”

  He almost laughed at the shock on her face. Good. He’d surprised her. Finally, he felt a little more in control.

  He shrugged. “You can be awfully pushy.”

  “Pushy?”

  “And you’re stringently organized.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  Saying nothing, he simply shrugged again.

  Glowering, she glanced at her watch. “So glad we’ve had this little chat, but I have a bride coming in an hour to try on her dress. I have a lot to do before she gets here.” Snatching the box from him, she disappeared inside.

  He stood on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in the pockets of the worn-almost-white jeans he’d thrown on. Good. He’d riled her. She’d think about him now.

  His stomach rumbled; he was hungry. Like a window shopper, he stared into her store. Molly knelt, unpacking her box, a wedding-gowned mannequin beside her. The shop was a bl
end of vintage and modern, whimsy and business. A reflection of Molly, though he doubted she’d admit it.

  Catching sight of his own reflection, he almost laughed. Molly had decided her business was her life, with no time for anything else. Maybe the two of them had been cut from the same cloth. Business first. Although he was fast learning other variables sometimes came into play. He glanced over his shoulder at Jax.

  Other than the business thing, though? He and Molly couldn’t be more different. She was whimsy and fairy tale. Cute little dresses and sexy stilettos. Him? Grease, jeans, and Tshirts.

  Curiosity begged him to peek inside, but he didn’t dare, with Jax asleep in the car. This baby thing was like being on a short leash.

  His gaze moved back to the petite brunette in that body-hugging black dress, and he admitted a hunger for far more than food.

  Right now, though, a couple of fried eggs would have to do.

  Chapter 9

  Brant strolled back to his car. If he’d ended up staying in Tennessee, he’d have missed running into the cute little shop owner.

  Speaking of Tennessee, he’d give his brothers some time to get their feet under them, then give them a call, find out how things had gone at the shop while they’d all been gone. That would, undoubtedly, give him a quick reality check.

  They’d expect a report on sites he’d scouted, and he had no good news there.

  Through the open window, he snagged his dark glasses from the passenger seat and slid them in place. No sense advertising his red-rimmed, sleep-deprived eyes. Striding to a vending machine, he dug for some coins and bought a copy of the Savannah Morning News. He tucked it beneath his arm, then retrieved the still-sleeping kid in his car seat and headed for the cozy red-and-white diner down the street.

  A couple of passersby stared as though they thought they should know him. That happened more and more often since their Wylder Rides projects were featured on the car and bike restoration shows the TV crowd enjoyed.

  Even though it gave him an itch in the middle of his back, he normally smiled and said hello. Today he ignored them and plowed into the small café, aiming for a back booth. He hoisted the bulky baby carrier onto one seat, then slid into the opposite one, facing the wall. For good measure, he kept his dark glasses on. If he couldn’t see anybody, they couldn’t see him, right?

  The middle-aged woman who came bearing coffee wore a name tag that read Dee-Ann. Since that matched the name over the door, Brant assumed she must be the owner.

  “What can I do for you today, sugar?”

  “How about a cup of that coffee? Hot and black.” His stomach growled again, a reminder he hadn’t hung around the inn for breakfast, hell-bent as he’d been on a quick getaway. He should have grabbed one of Tommy’s ham biscuits.

  She filled his mug. “Baby keep you up last night?”

  He made a frustrated sound. “I think the kid’s got a sleeping disorder.”

  “Doesn’t look like it now.”

  “That’s because he knows I can’t catch a nap here.”

  Dee-Ann chuckled. “He’ll get past that.”

  “That’s what everybody tells me.” Brant stretched and decided against the fried eggs. “Got any apple pie?”

  “I do. Made it myself earlier this mornin’.”

  “Great! I’ll have a piece of that with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

  “For breakfast?” Her pencil hovered an inch above her order pad.

  “You bet. Apple pie’s not really all that different from a piece of coffee cake or a scone, is it, Dee-Ann?”

  “Guess not.”

  “And the ice cream’s my glass of milk in its frozen state.”

  “Point taken. Comin’ right up.” Her forehead creased. “Do I know you?”

  Brant skirted the issue. “You might have seen me around. I was here for a wedding at Magnolia House a few months back and for another this past weekend.”

  “Okay, that explains it. Thought I recognized you.”

  When she left to place his order, he unfolded his newspaper. Halfway through the sports page, his food arrived.

  “Thanks, Dee-Ann.”

  “You’re more than welcome…” She hesitated, and he gave in.

  “Brant. Brant Wylder.”

  “Ah. Of course.” Recognition shone in her eyes as she warmed his coffee. “You fix up old cars.”

  He almost choked at the simple understatement. “Yeah. My brothers and I.”

  “Well, you let me know if you need anything else, honey.”

  “Will do.” When he scooped up a forkful of her pie and brought it to his lips, he thought he might have died and gone to Heaven. “This is some of the best I’ve ever eaten,” he mumbled around his second bite.

  The bell over the door jingled, and despite himself, Brant glanced over his shoulder.

  “Cole, how the heck are you?”

  “Thought you were leaving right after the wedding, Wylder.”

  “You know what they say about those best-laid plans.” He sipped his coffee. “Your wife puts on one heck of a wedding.”

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Cole fairly swelled with pride. “When she first got it in her head to turn Magnolia House into a wedding destination, I had my doubts. But Jenni Beth doesn’t know the meaning of can’t.” He spread his hands. “So here we are.”

  “Knee-deep in weddings,” Brant finished.

  “Yep.” Cole pointed at the sleeping baby. “What’s this?”

  Brant laughed. “It’s a baby.”

  “Whose?”

  “My sister’s. Long story.”

  Jax picked that moment to wake with one long wail, his fists clenched. Brant groaned.

  “I’ve got it. Finish your breakfast.” Cole eyed the pie, then slid in beside the baby and hoisted him to his shoulder, patting and rocking. Jax’s wail tapered to a few whimpers, then silence as his thumb popped in his mouth. He sucked contentedly.

  “Thank you.” Brant signaled for Dee-Ann to bring another coffee.

  “Anything else this morning, Cole?” Dee-Ann set his drink in front of him and topped off Brant’s.

  “Nope.” Cole raised his mug. “This is what I came for.”

  Brant gave Cole the abridged version of how he’d become a temporary daddy, including Lainey’s upcoming rehab and legal issues. “I could go home, but I’d kind of like to stick close just in case. And that’s my sad tale.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a heaped plate.”

  “Yeah. Believe me, I’d rather be up to my waist in oil and engine sludge than stinky diapers.”

  Cole smiled. “Where are you staying?”

  “That’s another problem. A big one. I’m still at Annabelle’s, but she has new guests coming who’ve reserved my room.”

  “Not very kid-friendly, is it?”

  “No. Believe it or not, Annabelle actually bent her rules for me. She has a strict no-kids policy.”

  “She’s a feisty thing and a little eccentric—”

  “A little?” Brant arched a brow. “Have you seen those purple, size-eleven sneakers she wears? On that less-than-five-foot frame? And those fifties housedresses?”

  “Okay, okay.” Cole laughed. “A lot eccentric. But she’s got a heart of gold.” He winced. “It’s just buried a little deeper than most.”

  “Tell me about it. The sun was barely up Monday when she came beating on my door to remind me I didn’t own the room.”

  Cole grunted. “I know of a house for rent, if you’re interested.”

  “I’m here short-term,” Brant reminded him. Guilt stabbed for not sharing his plans for a possible relocation. Still, if they couldn’t find the right site…

  “Doesn’t matter. This place is sitting empty. Lem Gilmore owns it. Since it’s more of a tax write-off than anything else, there’s a chance he won’t charge you anything. But then, we are talking Tightwad Lem, so it’s hard to tell.” Cole made a face. “He’s not one for throwing money around, so it hasn’t had much up
keep.”

  “I don’t need anything fancy. A bed and a shower where I don’t have to worry about the kid bothering anybody else will do it for me.”

  “Then this definitely qualifies. It’s far enough out of the way that the cicadas are about the only things that will hear him.”

  Jax, wide-awake now, eyed Brant’s breakfast.

  “Want some of this?” He held up a spoonful of ice cream.

  Cole laughed as Jax’s mouth worked. He strapped the baby in his seat, then took the spoon and fed Jax.

  “You’re pretty good at that.”

  Cole shrugged. “I don’t know that I’m ready for a 24/7 thing yet, but I like babies.” He leaned across the table and refilled the spoon from Brant’s plate. “You want to take a ride and look at the house? If you don’t like it, just say the word. No skin off my back.”

  “You bet.”

  *

  Brant and Jax followed Cole on a narrow two-lane road to the middle of nowhere. Jax, having had a long nap, jabbered the whole way. Every once in a while, Brant would wave over his shoulder and Jax would giggle.

  “We’re on our way to look at a house, Jax. No more Annabelle. What do you think about that, huh?”

  “Ba-ba-ba-ba.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. Blah, blah, blah, blah.”

  Jax cooed and blew some bubbles.

  Cole pulled into a gravel drive beside the small house on Claggett Mill Road, and Brant followed with more than a few misgivings. If the yard was any indication of what the inside looked like, they were in trouble. If they did move in, the first order of business had to be getting somebody out here to mow the foot-high grass and weeds.

  Jax slapped his hands on the car window.

  “I know, I know. You want out.” Grabbing the carrier, Brant followed Cole down the sidewalk, worried this might turn out to be a wild-goose chase. He wouldn’t move the baby into a rat’s nest.

  “You have a key?”

  “Nah. Lem lost it a long time ago and never bothered to get another. Guess you could call a locksmith, but it would be cheaper to grab a new lockset at Beck’s.”

  Cole leaned against the porch railing. “If you decide to do that, don’t toss the old one. A lot of people come into my architectural salvage place looking for doorknobs like this. I’ll talk to Lem about it.”