Mouth-watering smells of fresh brewed coffee, blueberry blintzes, and warm cinnamon rolls welcomed him. Tempting, so tempting. How did Beck resist all this?
Tansy stood behind the counter, all that incredible red hair forming a halo around her striking face. And those vibrant blue-green eyes. Looking into them was like staring into the Caribbean. Beck Elliot was one lucky guy.
He didn’t want red hair and turquoise eyes. He wanted dark-brown eyes and coffee-colored hair streaked with caramel tones.
Brant thought of Molly and the way she’d looked when he left this morning, all tousled and sleepy eyed. Oh yeah. He and Beck had both hit the lottery. Except Tansy and Beck were a couple. He and Molly? That might take some work, but he figured he was up to it.
And that she’d be worth the effort.
When had his wants, his expectations, changed? This new determination to have Molly in his life ought to scare the bejesus out of him. It didn’t.
“I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” Tansy said, breaking into his thoughts. “You two have a good time last night?”
“We did.” The understatement of all understatements.
“What’ll you have?”
While he waited for his order, Sam DeLuca strolled in.
“Sam.” Brant nodded at him, noting he was in his uniform of jeans and an MBSD shirt and ball cap. “Going on or off duty?”
“On. A few more days, and Cricket and I will be on our honeymoon. No callouts and no alarms.”
“Wearing a wedding band,” Brant added.
Sam gave him a goofy grin. “Yeah.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brant caught Tansy’s slow smile.
“Glad I ran into you this morning,” Sam said. “I wanted to run something by you. When I first came to town, my aunt’s house was practically collapsing in on itself. It needed more work than I could handle on my own. A high-school kid named Jeremy Stuckey gave me a hand. He’d had a run-in with the law before I came.”
Sam removed his hat, and after smoothing his dark hair, replaced it. “Thing is, Jeremy’s daddy, not too long before all that happened, ran away with a girl not much older than Jeremy. Needless to say, there were some pretty hurt feelings and a whole lot of anger. The kid paid for what he did in blood, sweat, and—my guess—a few private tears.”
“Gotcha.”
“Jeremy’s handy and could use the money, if you can see fit to hire him a few hours here and there. It’s good for him to have some responsible male figures in his life.”
“Responsible? You’re talking about the Wylder brothers, Sam.”
“I know.” Sam didn’t blink. “I heard you played taxi after your friends stayed too long at Duffy’s Pub and that you’re nephew-sitting while your sister gets help. Think about giving Jeremy a shot. The kid can do anything. Right now, he’s helping Lem with a couple projects. Then he’s all yours, if you’ll take a chance on him.”
“My brothers will be gone by then, so bring him by when he’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Sam clapped him on the back. “Okay if I pour myself a cup, Tanz?”
“You bet.” She handed Brant his bag along with a coffee and tea to go. “Jeremy’s a good kid who caught a bad break. Tell Molly hi for me.”
Brant walked out of the bakery, scratching his head. A baby, a teenager who might or might not be a juvenile delinquent, two brothers camped out at a house he wasn’t paying rent on, a rundown service station, and a woman who turned him inside out without even trying.
Was it too late to cry uncle?
*
Molly leaned into the bathroom counter and stared in the mirror. Shouldn’t she look different? Last night had been totally unexpected, totally off the charts, and totally fantastic.
Her cat wandered into the room, and Molly gathered her close. “Bubbles, I should be exhausted. I barely got any sleep.” A sly smile crossed her lips. “And isn’t that a wonderful thing?”
She moved to her bedroom and peered into her closet. Her wardrobe choice this morning gave her some trouble. A sunny yellow dress called to her, echoed her mood. After actually walking out of the closet with it, she’d forced herself to hang it back up. Today was a workday. Her concession? She fastened a happy daisy pin on the stark black A-line dress.
Spotting a pair of black heels with discreet white piping along the edge, she slid into them. The doorbell rang, and she glanced at her clock. Still early.
Halfway down the stairs, she faltered. Brant stood outside, wearing dark glasses, a sexy attitude, and carrying a Sweet Dreams bag. Flustered, she ran a hand over her hair.
“Brant. I didn’t expect to see you this morning.” Her heart pounded practically out of her chest.
Totally unruffled, he bussed her cheek casually as though they hadn’t spent the entire night making love. “Your car’s out front. Thought you might need this.” He handed her the tea.
“I do. I planned to make a cup once I unlocked my doors.”
“It’s not time to hang the Open sign yet, is it?”
“No. I still have almost half an hour.”
“Good. Let’s go upstairs.”
Her heart kicked into a higher gear, one she hadn’t known existed. “Brant, I—”
“I’m thinking we should take these drinks and croissants and sit on your deck, sugar. It’s a beautiful morning. You’ll want a sweater.”
She nodded and led the way upstairs. While she unlocked her patio doors, he brushed her hair aside and dropped small kisses on the back of her neck. She raised a hand to his head, ran her fingers through all that thick hair, and nearly purred.
“I needed a taste, Mol. You’re a hell of a lot sweeter than anything Tansy creates.”
When she turned, he set their breakfast on the small table and took her in his arms. Their lips met in a sweet morning kiss.
“I wanted to make sure last night wasn’t a dream,” he whispered.
Heat raced up Molly’s neck and across her cheeks.
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s feed you so you can get to work, then I need to do the same.”
“Where’s Jax?”
“Day care.”
“You should have brought him along. How’d it go with your brothers last night?”
She chuckled when he told her about the mess he’d walked in on.
The croissants finished, he got to his feet. “Time for work.”
Her mouth nearly got ahead of her brain. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he could be so easygoing this morning while she was one huge bundle of nerves. Every time she glanced at his mouth, his lips, she thought of the previous night. She watched him wrap his fingers around the coffee cup and remembered the delicious, magical things they’d done to her body in the wee hours of the morning.
“Molly?”
“I’ll walk you down.” Bubbles wove in and out of her legs when she stood.
But before she took even one step, he threaded his fingers through her hair and planted a kiss that nearly melted the soles of her white-piped shoes.
“I’ll try to stop by tonight. Things might get a little crazy, though, with Tucker and Gaven here.”
“It’s okay. We agreed nothing—”
He laid a finger over her lips. “Shh. You agreed. I didn’t. Then or now. By the way, happy Valentine’s Day. Stay here and put your feet up another minute. I can show myself out.”
That’s exactly what she did, too befuddled to move. She’d started Valentine’s Day off by having breakfast with Brant Wylder. No, not true. Even better, she’d started it out tangled up in the sheets with him.
Maybe it was time to read her list again, although she was having a hard time remembering why it mattered. He was here. She was here. Both planned to stay.
That didn’t mean he’d stay with her, though.
Her father hadn’t.
Keith hadn’t.
Could she handle living here in this small town and running into Brant constantly after he moved on to someone else?
And no doubt he would. No man had ever stuck.
Why should he be any different?
Chapter 18
Brant’s brothers had dropped his car at Molly’s.
By the time he got home, they sat at the kitchen table, eating cereal.
Tuck looked up. “You need a better place, Brant. If it was a week or two, maybe, but since you’re planning to stay, this doesn’t cut it.”
His gaze traveled over the cracked linoleum, ancient wallpaper, and faded paint, the kitchen so outdated, it was nearly back in vogue. Before he could agree, though, his phone rang. Afraid it was day care, he answered quickly. “Brant Wylder.”
“Morning. Kemper Dobson here. I heard your brothers are in town.”
“They are. No problem with the property, is there?”
“Nope, we’re good to go. The paperwork’s done, so whenever you three can come in, we’ll get it signed, and the place is yours.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dobson. That’s great news.”
Not one for wasting time, Tucker said, “Let’s get it done.”
*
They were in and out of the lawyer’s in half an hour.
“It’s ours.” Gaven rubbed his hands together in glee.
Brant slid behind the wheel. “Nice to have that finished before you head home.”
On the way to the house, they agreed that until they saw how things went, they’d keep their Lake Delores office open. Rudy, their go-to guy, would run it for them and send any new clients to their Misty Bottoms shop.
“The timing’s perfect,” said Gaven. “Other than our barn-find Vette, we have nothing pressing. Once Tucker and I get home, we’ll make arrangements to have our equipment moved.”
“Tyrone’s still making noises about us tricking out his Denali,” Brant said. “That’ll give us a start here.”
“Chances are good we’ll pick up a couple of his buddies, once they see his ride,” Tucker added.
At Brant’s, the three hunkered over sketches at the scarred kitchen table and argued over priorities.
“We need to get that fence up. Secure the place.”
“And,” Gaven pointed out, “hire a contractor to expand the building and set up the paint booth.”
Brant nodded. “I have one coming in day after tomorrow.”
“This is going to be so much better than the place we have now.”
“Yeah, it is, and with the acreage, we’ll have room to expand,” said Tucker. “This was a real find.”
Brant looked at him. “You do understand, not everyone is happy about us setting up shop in Misty Bottoms.”
Tucker shrugged. “That’s bound to be the case.”
“And you’d better believe all our business will be discussed over morning coffee at Dee-Ann’s.”
“Already is,” Gaven said.
“Oh?”
“I ran in for a couple to-go coffees after we dropped your car off, and a few old codgers had the back booth.” He deepened his voice. “They bring all those motorcycles in here, and next thing you know, Hells Angels will be pourin’ into town.”
Tucker hooted with laughter.
“First brides,” Gaven intoned, “then motorcycle gangs and hot-rodders. Misty Bottoms is changin’.”
“Well, we can’t stop the talk.”
“But wait.” Gaven held up his index finger. “The best one. Rich folks comin’ to town thinkin’ we’ll bow to them and their highfalutin ways.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Hand to God I’m not, Mr. Rich Folk.” He grinned. “You gonna share all that money, BT?”
“Sure. Just as soon as I see some.” He hauled a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge. “Anybody?”
Sprawled around the table, Tucker and Gaven both held up their glasses.
“Same plan as before?” Brant asked.
“Yep. If it ain’t broke—”
While they’d all get their hands dirty and work on the cars and motorcycles, it would be Gaven who’d actually be in charge of the shop itself. He’d been blessed with the golden touch when it came to restoration work. On top of that, he was a whiz at anything and everything mechanical. Brant had watched him start with a heap of metal, and by the time he was done, the bodywork and trim, the interior, and the engine made grown men weep…and pay big bucks for that heap.
But Gaven hated the details of running a business. Things like paying electric and water bills, ordering supplies, issuing paychecks—all jobs he passed on to his oldest brother. Tucker had the head for business, and his borderline OCD made him perfect for the job.
Himself? He was their marketing guru and jack of all trades.
Somehow, it worked.
“So how serious are you and Molly?” Gaven poked.
“Where’d that come from?” Brant drew back. “We’re…” What? he wondered. Sure as hell not just friends with benefits. Lovers? Girlfriend, boyfriend? That sounded pretty high school. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, I’d guess so,” Tucker ribbed. “Listen, I have to run. Gonna borrow your truck, Gav. I shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”
“Where’re you goin’?” Brant frowned.
“You can drag your feet all you want, Bro, but I’ve got an appointment with Quinlyn. I plan to buy a house.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be living here in Misty Bottoms, too.”
“Maybe I should go with you,” Gaven said.
“To make time with my real-estate agent?”
“Nah. So I can pick out my room.”
“No way, baby brother. I don’t want a roommate.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You’re on your own.”
*
Molly had been surprised when Tucker called to ask her to house-hunt with him. She was giving Lettie a few last-minute instructions when he pulled up out front in Gaven’s pickup. “Got to go.”
She grabbed her purse as the door opened and Tucker stuck his head inside. “Ready?”
“I am. Lettie, this is Brant’s brother, Tucker.”
“We’ve met.” Lettie, never the shy one, asked, “Brant know you’re here for his girl?”
“Lettie, I’m not Brant’s—”
“Go on. You can feed that to somebody else, and they might buy it. Me? Tush!”
Tucker chuckled. “Brant has no idea I’m stealing her away this afternoon.”
“Really? I was just joshin’.”
“See? Fresh gossip. You’ll be the belle of the ball at Dee-Ann’s this afternoon.”
Molly raised her brows. “You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”
“I can be.”
“We’re looking at houses with Quinlyn, Lettie.”
“For who?” the older woman asked.
“For me. Brant’s not the only one moving to Misty Bottoms.” He held the door. “If you’re ready, we should probably head out. I promised we’d be on time.”
Once they were in the truck, Molly was amazed that just like Brant’s, it could never be mistaken for a woman’s. It was all male. It had that attitude, that scent—and that huge engine, she thought, when it roared to life.
Men and their vehicles.
“I only asked her to bring one set of keys.” Tucker drove with efficiency and confidence.
“The old blacksmithy.” He’d asked her about it at Fat Baby’s the other night.
“Crazy, huh?”
“Not really.” She tipped her head. “A little eccentric maybe.”
He laughed. “The polite Southern difference.”
By the time they pulled up in front of the house, Molly decided she liked Brant’s older brother. He was serious, yes, but considering he’d done several tours of duty in the Middle East, that came as no surprise, although according to Brant, he’d pretty much been that way before. But the man also had a wicked sense of humor, and he wasn’t afraid to poke fun at himself. Some woman would fall head over heels for this handsome guy.
<
br /> Despite Lettie’s poking, it wouldn’t be Molly, because in spite of herself, she’d developed a real case for Tucker’s brother.
Quinlyn waited in the yard for them, looking both feminine and professional in her tan-and-black long-sleeved sweater and black slacks. All that gorgeous blond hair was pulled up in a twist.
The agent swept a hand toward the building. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”
*
Brant and Gaven had just finished installing a new heavy-duty hot-water heater Beck had delivered, when Tucker strolled through the door.
Brant swiped the back of an arm over his brow, wiping off the sweat that beaded there. “How’d it go?”
“I made an offer.”
“You did what?” Gaven laid the Crescent wrench on the shelf beside him.
“I bought the old blacksmith shop.”
Brant stared at him. “The two-story stone building on Firefly Creek?”
“Yep.” Tucker nodded.
Gaven looked from brother to brother. “Exactly how old is old?”
“Pre–Civil War. She’s been kicking around since 1860.”
Brant’s hand shot out to feel his brother’s forehead.
Tucker knocked it away. “Cut it out.”
“You’re crazier than me.”
“Molly says I’m eccentric, not crazy.”
“Molly?” An uneasy feeling, one he didn’t like, slithered through Brant. “When did you talk to Molly?”
“She went house-hunting with me.”
For an instant, a monster Brant hadn’t known lived inside him reared its ugly head. Then he caught his brother’s grin.
“Got you.”
Brant relaxed. “I didn’t think she’d go anywhere with a mug that ugly.”
“Oh, she did go. As a friend. As my brother’s girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Brant groused.
“Suit yourself.” Tucker shrugged. “The lot’s incredible. Tons of mature trees, and the yard runs right down to the creek.”
“How big is the house?” Gaven asked.
“No.” Tucker shook his head.
“No, what?”
“You’re not moving in with me. We already had this conversation. I want my own place.”
Brant understood. In Lake Delores, Tucker had rented a tiny apartment over the five-and-dime store when he’d mustered out of the Marines. That had worked, but this new place would suit him better. He’d have privacy and elbow room.
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