Chapter 5
Weary and more than a little desperate, Brant pulled into the B and B where he and his brothers had stayed. He’d planned to check out this morning, take a closer look at the two properties they were considering for their new shop, then head back to Tennessee.
Those plans had been flushed down the toilet. He couldn’t head home and leave Lainey to face this alone—which meant he wouldn’t be checking out. If Annabelle had a vacancy for the next few days.
Brant emptied the contents of the hospital’s tote into Lainey’s diaper bag. He draped his rumpled tux jacket over the bag, then slung it over his shoulder and eyed his nephew. “Ready for this, Jax?”
The baby grinned and gurgled.
“You like Uncle Brant’s Camaro, don’t you?”
Jax bounced up and down in his seat.
“You’ve got good taste, buddy. In a few years, we’ll put you to work at Wylder Rides. Maybe make you a partner.” He huffed out a breath. “In the meantime, we have to persuade Ms. Annabelle to let us hang around another night or two. Or three. We’ll stay close in case your mama needs something.”
He pointed a finger at the baby. “You, young man, need to be on your best behavior, you hear? No crying.” Studying the baby, he winced. “And try to keep that drool down a little. We don’t want to flood the place.”
After a few minutes of fussing with all the harnesses and belts, he managed to free both baby and seat. Pleased with himself, Brant started up the walk, shocked again at how heavy the carrier was. Yet women lugged the darned things all over the place. Well, he never had considered them the weaker sex.
They sure were the prettier sex, though. He thought about Molly Stiles and sighed for last night’s lost opportunity. Then he tucked it away to concentrate on his more immediate problem. Fingers crossed that he’d catch Annabelle’s niece working the front desk rather than the owner, Brant swung through the old oak door with its leaded crystal window.
“Mr. Wylder.” Annabelle greeted him, wearing an orange-and-blue housedress that had to be a survivor of the fifties, dashing his hopes for an easy go of extending his stay.
“How are you this morning, Ms. Annabelle?” Holding Jax and the seat low at his side, he let the diaper bag slip from his shoulder and placed it on the floor.
The innkeeper sniffed. “Better than you, I’d imagine, since you never made it back after last night’s wedding.” Her eyes narrowed. “You look like yesterday’s rubbish.”
Brant grimaced. Wrinkled clothes, disheveled hair, and bloodshot eyes. He ran a hand over his chin. Yep, he needed a shave, too. “Can’t argue about that, ma’am. I could definitely use a shower and some fresh clothes.”
“That would be a start. Your brothers left after the wedding?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I assume you found somewhere more to your liking to spend the night.”
“Actually, no, I didn’t.”
Jax chose that moment to let out a stream of babble.
Annabelle slid the glasses she wore on a chain into place and peered over the antique desk. “What do you have there?”
“A baby.”
“I can tell he’s a baby, you young fool.”
“This is Jax. Jax, I’d like you to meet Ms. Annabelle.”
The baby gurgled and waved his chubby arms.
Stepping closer to the desk, he set Jax’s seat on the beautifully refinished pine floor. “I’d intended to leave town later today, but my plans have changed. It looks like I’ll be in Misty Bottoms a little longer than originally expected.”
“Have anything to do with that?” She pointed at Jax.
“You the baby’s daddy?”
“What? No. Jax is my nephew.”
“Where’s his mother?”
Brant rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She—” Lack of sleep amped his emotions, and his voice cracked. “My sister was in a car accident last night. Lainey’s in Savannah. In the hospital.”
Annabelle’s expression changed to concern. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Wylder. Will she be all right?”
He expelled a long breath. “She spent most of the night in surgery, but when I left, she was in recovery. Her surgeon assured me, given time, she’ll be fine. I should be able to see her later today.”
“Was that poor little thing with her?”
“No. Thankfully, he was with a friend.”
“There’s a blessing.”
“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, though. I’m gonna need a room for a few more days.”
Sympathy forgotten, the finicky innkeeper came roaring back. “We don’t generally have babies here.”
“Then we have something in common, because I don’t usually travel with a baby.”
“Actually, I misspoke.” She drew her ninety-pound self up to her full five feet. “What I should have said was that we don’t allow children here. Our rooms are full of antiques, and I cannot take a chance that—”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, Jax isn’t likely to break anything. He can’t walk. He can’t even crawl.” Brant held out his hands, palms up. “What’s he going to do? Gum a piece of Limoges? I promise I’ll keep all the good bric-a-brac away from him. We’ll play catch with his Nerf ball instead of the Fabergé eggs.”
“Got a smart mouth, don’t you?”
He scowled. “My mother’s hinted at that a time or two.”
“He’ll keep the other guests awake with his crying.”
“Seriously?” He waved a hand toward Jax. The baby’s arms and legs moved a mile a minute as he smiled and gurgled. “This happy baby? He hardly ever cries.” Brant glanced toward the window and waited for the lightning that would strike him down for lying. He held his breath, but outside the wavy, original glass, the sun continued to shine. No rumbles of thunder. No bolts of lightning.
Still, he stayed on guard.
“Well, you are at the back of the house.” Annabelle sniffed. “I suppose it’s far enough from the other rooms that we can give it a try. For tonight. If there are any complaints, any whatsoever, you’ll have to find somewhere else tomorrow.”
“Fair enough.” And he supposed it was. Right now, he was so tired, he could barely think. He needed sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.
“Heaven help me, I’ll probably regret this.”
“You won’t. Thank you. Thank you very much.” He leaned across the desk and kissed her leathery cheek.
She blushed like a schoolgirl and waved a hand at him dismissively. “Get out of here.” Her gaze dropped to the baby. “Both of you.”
He scooped up Jax, thankful they hadn’t been dumped, homeless, onto the street.
“I need to get a couple things from my car. Can I leave the baby here for a sec?”
“If you promise to come back for him.”
He smiled and sent her a sharp salute.
Jogging back to the house, he heard Jax giggling. Annabelle sat on a chair with the baby at her feet. Leaning over, she talked to him and tickled his belly.
Hearing the door squeak, she looked up, turning beet red, while the little traitor at her feet grinned at Brant.
Tucking his surprise in his back pocket, Brant asked, “Cute, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.”
“You never had children?”
Melancholy clouded the older woman’s eyes. “My husband died in an industrial accident six months after we married. I never remarried. My choice.” She glared at him as if defying him to challenge her. “But I had my niece, Willow.”
Brant saw the innkeeper through fresh eyes. Those few sentences explained a lot.
She stood. “You’d better get that child upstairs. Both of you could stand some cleaning up.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Again.” Brant grabbed the carrier’s handle and headed for the stairs.
One battle won, but the war had only begun.
Halfway to the back stairs, Willow stepped out of a side room. She leaned against the doorjamb, her shoulder-length blond hair curling around her face.
Brant figured her for eighteen, nineteen max. Breathtakingly beautiful, she was bound to give the Misty Bottoms boys a real run for their money.
“I heard you talking to Aunt Annabelle. I’m sorry about your sister. Want some breakfast?”
He looked at the baby. So far, so good, but he didn’t know how long that would last. If he was lucky, he’d make it to the room before all hell broke loose again. Hanging with Jax was like carrying a live grenade in his pocket.
“Nah. I think I’ll head up to my room. I need to get cleaned up and catch some sleep.”
“How about I deliver a tray to you?”
He was famished—and too tired to do anything about it himself. The kid had eaten all night, while he’d survived on god-awful hospital coffee and a quick burger.
Willow tipped her head. “Yes?”
“That would be great.”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“You bet.”
Once in his room, he placed the car seat on the floor and fell onto the bed.
Jax whimpered, and Brant sat up quickly. “What’s wrong?”
The instant the baby saw him, he grinned.
“Ah, you couldn’t see me, so you thought I’d left. Though why you’d find me comforting, I haven’t a clue. You do understand I don’t have the faintest idea what to do with you?” He reached down and hauled the seat up beside him. “You did good, kid. Way to keep it together in front of the dragon lady.”
He raised the baby’s arms in a cheer.
Jax kicked his feet in glee, and Brant pulled off his tiny socks. “How’s that feel? Bare feet.” Then he toed off his own shiny black dress shoes. “If I ever see those things again, it’ll be too soon.”
He tossed them in the direction of his suitcase as a knock sounded on the door.
Opening it, he grinned. Willow stood there, tray in hand. The mouth-watering smells of bacon and maple syrup drifted to him.
“If that tastes even half as good as it smells, I’m in your debt forever.” He took several steps back as she entered.
She set the tray on a small table by the window. With a dramatic flair, she removed the cover from the plate. “French toast with a pitcher of real New Hampshire maple syrup. My aunt’s cousin sends it every year. I added an extra serving of bacon, some fresh-sliced Georgia peaches, and a pot of coffee. Strong and black, exactly the way you like it.”
“Sweetheart, you are a life saver.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“Nope, I’m good here.” He waved a hand toward Jax. “We’re both good. Thanks again. I’ll carry the tray down to the kitchen when I’m finished.”
“That’s okay. Just set it in the hallway.” She pulled the door shut behind her without another word.
Brant pointed his fork at Jax, but before he could say anything, there was another knock on the door. He opened it.
Annabelle stood there, a small bowl and spoon in hand. “Seems only right Jax should eat, too.” She set a small bowl of porridge beside his tray, then laid the spoon next to it.
“That was my baby spoon.” She caught his gaze. “Yes, that makes it a true antique.”
“Didn’t have to.”
“But—”
“It’s a gift. Time to pass it on.” She moved to the bed and ran a finger down the baby’s cheek. “Tell your uncle to stop being a grump.”
Brant’s eyebrows shot nearly to the ceiling.
Then the real Annabelle returned. “Doesn’t mean I won’t kick you out if the baby bothers the rest of my guests.” She gave Jax a quick peck on the cheek and shuffled out, closing the door behind her.
“What just happened, Jax?” Brant scratched his head.
The baby explained everything, babbling a mile a minute.
“That’s what I thought. Small town, great people—even if they try to hide behind a mask of crankiness.” Brant turned the spoon over in his hand. “Shall we eat?”
He took a bite of the French toast, his eyes closing. Annabelle might be crotchety, but the woman could cook. He poured the rest of the warm maple syrup over the golden slices. “Oh yeah, this is superb.”
They settled into a rhythm. He took a bite of French toast, then fed a spoonful of porridge to Jax. Or tried to. As often as not, the baby turned his head at the last second and the cereal splatted on his cheek.
Halfway through the second piece of toast, Brant slowed his pace. He watched as Jax followed the fork from his plate to his mouth and back again. The baby’s mouth worked as if he, too, were eating more than porridge.
“Want a little taste of heaven? Hmm?” Brant swiped a finger through the maple syrup and laid it on the baby’s lips. “Here you go.”
Jax sucked on Brant’s finger, bouncing for joy. Quiet, happy noises erupted from him. Brant dipped his finger in the syrup again and gave Jax another taste. “I doubt this is on your meal plan, but what the heck. Life’s not worth living if you can’t have a treat once in a while, right?”
Instantly, his mind again veered toward Molly, a treat for all the senses. That long, dark hair and those incredible eyes. Her scent alone could drive a man crazy…and her skin. So soft. How the woman could look so innocent yet so hot blew his mind. Ms. Molly Stiles had the look of an angel. He grinned. One of Victoria’s Secret’s angels.
Jax made an impatient sound, and Brant fed him another spoon of porridge.
If he and his brothers actually moved their business to Misty Bottoms, could he hope for a little more time with Molly? He feared, though, that like Icarus, he might get burned if he soared too close to the heavens.
Munching on a piece of crisp bacon, Brant pulled another bottle from the diaper bag. It was the last of the premade ones and gave him the feeling of having three laps to go in a big race with only enough fuel for two. He ate the rest of his breakfast one-handed while balancing Jax’s bottle with the other.
When they’d both finished, Brant couldn’t fight it any longer. “What do you say, kid? Want to catch a nap?”
Jax bounced up and down, fists waving in the air. He made soft gurgling noises and blew bubbles.
“Yeah?” Brant unzipped his dress pants and let them drop to the floor. He eyed the pee stain. “I don’t know if those are salvageable, big guy. Guess only time and the dry cleaner will tell.” After he removed his cuff links, the shirt followed.
In boxer shorts and a white T-shirt, he padded into the bathroom. When he came out, Jax let go with a stream of gibberish.
“What?” With a grin, he leaned toward the baby, then pulled back. “Oh, you stink!”
Jax whimpered.
“Sorry, sorry.” He quickly held out a finger for the baby to grab. Jax popped it into his mouth and gummed it, while Brant tried not to breathe.
Okay, he’d managed a wet diaper, but this? Way above and beyond his pay grade.
Since this wouldn’t be the last messy diaper Jax offered him, he’d better figure out how to deal with it. If he could turn a rusted-out skeleton of a car into a thing of beauty, he could certainly change a dirty diaper.
Jax grew more agitated; he probably couldn’t stand the smell, either.
Keeping up a running dialogue, Brant spread out everything he figured he’d need. “Okay, kid, we’ve got a diaper and a spare, a pack of baby wipes, ointment, and a toy to keep you occupied.” He shook the rattle.
Hustling into the bathroom, he grabbed a big fluffy towel and spread it over Annabelle’s rug. The problem? A motor stayed still while he worked on it. Jax? A squirming wiggler. “Geez, kid, am I gonna have to calf-rope you to keep you still?”
Finally, he managed to unsnap the outfit’s legs and crotch. Then he undid the tabs on Jax’s diaper and peeled it away.
“Holy moly.” He gagged. “This stuff is toxic!”
He fanned the air with a clean diaper. “We’re gonna need to fumigate this room.”
Freed, Jax kicked happily until Brant grabbed his tiny feet. “No, you don’t, buster.” He made a mental note to send his mom a huge bouquet of flowers.
He pulled the wastebasket close and grabbed a baby wipe. The baby stared at him solemnly.
When he yanked too hard on the first diaper, the sticky tab broke loose.
He worked the second diaper under the baby, who by now was like a wind-up doll gone haywire.
Brant grasped a corner of the diaper, but before he could pull it up and over, Jax started to pee. The stream shot straight up like an oil gusher. After one shocked laugh, Brant covered him with the now-damp diaper.
“Oh, my little man, you need to learn to control that thing.”
Since the horse was already out of the barn, so to speak, Brant let Jax enjoy his nakedness for a few more minutes while he peeled off his own sodden T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of his ruined pants.
Finally the job was complete. Jax was safely and securely covered. The meager stack of diapers had taken a hit, and only one jar of food remained, along with a few scoops of formula.
The formula, at least, came with directions, but he’d need a couple more bottles. There had only been three in his diaper bag, and Jax didn’t care for the hospital’s bottles—the nipples were different.
“Okay, so let’s see what the internet has to say about nipples, huh?” He leaned into the pillows and propped Jax up between his legs. The two of them started their web search. The touch screen jumped around when tiny fingers made contact. Brant slid it a fraction farther away. A bevy of links popped up, and Brant clicked on one. A video demonstrating breast feeding came to life.
“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…