Chapter 10
Since Jax was fed, changed, and happily occupied trying to eat his toes, Brant decided to take some time to explore Misty Bottoms. The surrounding countryside was wild and untamed. When he came to some bottomland, he stopped on the side of the road and stepped out of the car.
“Toto, we’re not in Lake Delores anymore.”
Jax chattered at him from the back seat, and Brant leaned in. “Want to take a peek?”
Holding the baby and bouncing him, Brant looked out over the sea of marsh grass. He gave a low whistle and Jax startled, eyes wide.
“Did I scare you? Sorry.” He whistled more quietly while Jax watched. Then again. The baby’s fingers brushed over Brant’s lips before he pursed his own, to give it a try. No sound came out. “It’ll come, short stuff. Give it time.”
Jax grinned.
Brant wished he had his boots, but they hadn’t come with him for the wedding. He breathed in the distinctive odor of the gooey pluff mud left behind when the tide receded. One thumb tucked in his pocket, the other arm around Jax, he simply stood, taking it all in. Georgia’s Low Country was night and day from his native Tennessee, but he liked it. Very much.
A breeze blew, and over the earthy odors, Brant caught a whiff of another very distinctive one. Jax had messed his diaper. Again.
“Good trick, Superman. Your bottomland’s stinky, too.”
Brant hung his head in resignation. It had taken him weeks to track down the leather for his seats. Covering the passenger side with two blankets, he draped an arm over the squirming baby to hold him in place and executed the fastest one-handed diaper change on record.
“Dang, I’m getting pretty good at this.”
Jax agreed.
On the way back to town, he turned onto Old Coffee Road. A mile or so past a beat-up mailbox, he hit the brakes and backed up, a grin spreading over his face.
“Would you look at that?”
There sat the sweetest old service station he’d ever seen—wearing a For Sale sign. Feeling like he’d just taken the checkered flag, he pulled up to the outdated pumps. The terra-cotta-colored metal canopy was flaked and peeling, but the building itself looked sturdy. Old metal signs covered its front. A huge red Mobil flying horse hung over the door. The place had the look of a museum or one of those sets at Disneyland. Frank and Mike, from American Pickers, would go crazy here.
Opening his car door, Brant walked to the center of the road and looked both ways. Not a neighbor in sight. How much land went with the building? Enough for the Wylder brothers to set up shop?
Excitement rippled through him. What better place to restore vintage cars and motorcycles than in a vintage building? He jotted down the number on the For Sale sign. Quinlyn Deveraux. He’d seen her real-estate office in town.
When he unstrapped Jax, the baby curled into him and smiled. Not his baby, but that no longer mattered. As panicked as he’d been when Officer Blackburn handed Jax to him, as much sleep as he’d lost, Brant couldn’t imagine not having this time with his nephew. And that was a step, wasn’t it?
If he could only get him housebroken.
With the baby tucked against his chest, Brant stepped up to the grimy windows. He picked up a stick and knocked away some of the cobwebs. Shading his eyes with his free hand, he peeked inside. “What do you think, kid? This front room would make a good office, wouldn’t it?”
Jax slapped at the dirty window, and Brant grimaced. “Don’t put that hand in your mouth till I get it wiped, okay?”
“Dadagama!”
“Right.”
Walking around the outside of the building, Brant saw both what was there and what could be. It needed a lot of work, but he and his brothers could handle that. In addition to his automotive skills, Brant was pretty darned handy with a hammer. The summer he turned eight, Tucker had been wrapped up in Little League baseball, and their mom, pregnant with Lainey, had dragged Gaven kicking and screaming to swimming lessons. While they did that, Brant and his dad had built an incredible tree house, complete with a front porch. They’d added a high railing at his mother’s insistence. No girls, including Lainey, had ever stepped foot in it. It was their guys’ hangout clear through high school.
This old station would be a challenge, one he looked forward to.
From down the road, he heard a car coming. Molly and her little Countryman zipped into view. Slowing, she pulled behind his car.
Leaning out the window, she smiled. “Imagine meeting you out here, Brant Wylder.”
“Hey, Molly Stiles. What are you up to?”
“I delivered a couple bridesmaid’s dresses to Jenni Beth. Then, since I had a latte from Tansy’s and it was such a beautiful afternoon, I decided I might as well put the windows down and go for a ride. I’m still finding my way around, you know?”
“I do. Lake Delores isn’t a big place, but it’s not Misty Bottoms.”
“What are you two doing out here in the wilds?”
“Actually, we were out for a ride, too, and…” He cocked his head. “Would you mind holding Jax for a couple minutes?”
“Not unless you intend on making a break and leaving him with me.”
He laughed. “Nah. The kid and I are doing okay today.”
She slid out of the car, and Brant groaned. “Mol, you’re killing me slowly.”
A questioning frown creased her forehead.
Instead of answering, he let his gaze drift from her mass of curls, over her vivacious face, then slowly down her body, encased today in a black knit dress that showcased every inch, every curve, and on to model-perfect legs that ended in a strappy pair of black and silver pumps.
He cleared his throat. “Need I say more?”
A slow smile curled her lips. She reached for the baby, who went into a paroxysm of joy at seeing her. He kicked his little legs and laughed, and Brant watched her expression soften as she lost herself in the feel of him, the smell of him, the joy of him. He sure hoped Molly planned to have a couple of kids someday, because it was plain as that little snub nose on Jax’s face that she loved babies.
Catching a strand of her long hair, the baby wrapped it around his fist and took it straight to his mouth. Grimacing, Molly bent her head to give herself a little more slack.
“Ouch.” Brant stepped toward her and freed her hair, then found himself leaning closer, breathing in her fresh, feminine scent.
She took a step back. “What are you doing?”
“You smell so good.”
“Are you sniffing my hair?”
A goofy grin on his face, he said, “Yeah, I am.”
“You are so weird.”
The grin stayed in place. “Yeah, I am.”
She shook her head. “What are we going to do with your uncle, Jax? He’s cuckoo.” Molly made a circling motion around her ear with her finger.
“Hate to add fuel to the fire, but I think I’m gonna buy this place.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“It’s falling down.”
“Actually, the building appears sound. Mostly, it needs some cosmetic fixes.”
“If you say so, but why would you want it?”
The sticky part. Confession time. Might as well dive right in. “My brothers and I are considering moving our business here.”
She went flat-faced. “As in permanently?”
“Yes.”
“But that—” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“Changes things, yes.”
“Can I ask one question?”
He figured he knew what that question would be. “Sure.”
“How long have you known?”
“We’ve been talking about it since before Kathy’s wedding.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“No. Our plans were…are…very tentative.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
In for a dime, in for a dollar, he decided. “Jax and I found a new place to live today. Well, not a new place, but new for us. We’re waving goodbye to Annabelle’s, aren’t we, pal?” He waved at Jax, who flapped his own hand. “Cole scored it for us, and we’re moving in today.”
He could practically hear her mind working, trying to digest his news.
“Furnished?” she asked.
“Badly.” He chuckled. “But we can live with it for now. It’ll make life with the kid here a whole lot easier. If you can keep the Jaxster entertained for a few minutes, I’d like to walk around the place and make a video for my brothers.”
“Give me a sec.” She handed the baby back to him, whipped a band out of her pocket, and secured her caramel-streaked brown hair. Then she held out her arms for Jax. “It’s safe from little hands now.”
“Smart lady.” Brant pulled out his phone, then traipsed around the perimeter of the building, shooting it and the surrounding area from all angles. Molly had taken his news better than he’d expected—maybe. When he glanced over his shoulder, she sat in the grass, that mind-blowing dress tucked beneath her. Jax, held out in front of her, tried out his pudgy legs. The wobbly baby looked for all the world like a drunken sailor. Brant started a new video, one that held his interest far more than the potential business site.
Looking up, she caught him. “Stop.” She hid her face behind the baby.
“I’m, uh, taking it for Lainey.”
“You are not.” She plopped the baby down in front of her.
She laughed. “Quit!”
“Okay, okay. I’m done.” Grinning, he dropped to the grass beside her and sprawled out, resting on one side to face her. “Thanks. Easier to do that without a baby riding my hip.”
“Are you sending the video to Tuck and Gaven?”
“Yep.”
“Do it now. We’re good.”
And they were, he realized. With the sun shining overhead, a cool breeze surrounding them, and soft grass beneath, he felt better right here, right now, with Molly and Jax than he’d felt in a long time. Even before he came to Misty Bottoms for the wedding, he’d been out of sorts.
Something about this woman restored his equilibrium. At the same time, something about her sent him skittering out of control, and that didn’t make any sense at all.
He wanted to touch her, taste her, spend time with her. Dangerous.
“Want to share dinner?” Molly asked. “Nothing fancy. During a lull at the shop, I ran upstairs and threw some beef stew in the Crock-Pot. One of the advantages of living where you work.”
A quick smile flitted across his face. Dinner with Molly? At her place? Oh yeah.
Then he remembered Jax and dialed down his expectations for the evening. There’d be no hanky-panky. How did anyone have brothers and sisters? Between the time issues and operating on little or no sleep, how did parents manage a sex life? Maybe that explained why he and his brothers had been shipped to his grandparents’ house almost every Friday night…and it was best he didn’t think about that too much.
He concentrated instead on Molly. Their first kiss had been kind of an accident. The next few? Impulse, but pure dynamite. He needed a chance to taste her again.
“What do you think, bud?” he asked Jax, forcing himself to take it slow.
When Jax babbled, he tipped his head up to meet Molly’s gaze. “He said yes.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too. Can we bring anything?”
“Formula and diapers.”
* * *
Dinner with Molly. A big high-five. On top of that, he had a house, had found—he hoped—the new location for Wylder Rides, and had shared his plans with Molly. No more secrets. Could the day get any better? He grinned. Oh yeah, if he was really, really lucky.
He headed over to Annabelle’s with Jax and packed up their stuff. At the front office, he settled his bill and thanked her for putting up with them. Certain she’d break into a happy dance when they left, he refused to look back, not wanting that visual seared into his brain.
The car loaded, Brant and a fussy Jax drove to their new, very temporary home. He pulled up to the house, grabbed the diaper bag and baby, and performed what he expected to be the first of many diaper changes there. Handing Jax a biscuit to slobber on, he carried in his single duffel bag, then made several trips to haul in the baby’s stuff. Next time he ran into Cole at Duffy’s Pub, he owed the man a beer.
Standing in the middle of the living room, he scrutinized the area. What did he need to place higher, out of reach of Jax’s curiosity? Were the floors okay for a crawler?
Leaving Jax strapped in his seat, Brant went in search of a broom and mop. Even though Lem’s wife had cleaned, he intended to give the floors a quick going-over before turning the baby loose on them.
By the time he finished, he was sweaty and Jax was angry. He wanted out of his seat, wanted to explore and burn off some energy. Between his bout of housework and tramping around in the dirt and grass earlier, a shower was at the top of Brant’s priority list. Fat chance he’d get lucky tonight, but stranger things had happened. Besides, his mother would smack him upside the head if she found out he’d been invited to dinner and hadn’t taken the time to wash up.
He shook out his last clean outfit, picked up Jax and the ever-present baby seat, and headed for the shower, praying the plumbing worked.
He plopped a pacifier in Jax’s mouth and stuck a rattle in his hand, then stripped and stepped under the water, grimacing at the tepid spray. As soon as he finished, he’d crank up the heater and hopefully score some hotter water.
Speaking of scoring, he’d spotted a washer and dryer in the hallway closet. On his way home from Molly’s, he’d pick up laundry detergent, cereal and milk, and more formula. The kid plowed through the stuff like a pig through slop. If he continued to eat at this rate, he’d be a stand-in for the Pillsbury Doughboy by the time he turned one. Maybe Brant should consider investing in a baby-formula company.
Eyes closed, lukewarm water drizzling down on him, he got real with himself. He might not want marriage or a family, but he did want Molly. Thoughts of her stalked him day and night.
His chances of having her?
About zilch, and that sucked. Totally.
* * *
Molly hadn’t planned to fuss. A simple dinner offered to a man with no family to help him. That’s all tonight was.
Baloney.
She might feed that to someone else, but she knew better. She’d invited Brant to dinner because she wanted to spend more time with him and that beautiful little boy—which was exactly what she’d promised she wouldn’t do!
As she stirred the stew, she chastised herself. Hadn’t she warned herself over and over that Brant was dangerous to her plans? That it wouldn’t take much for him to derail her? Hand curled around her old wooden spoon, Molly replayed the afternoon, saw again the delight on Brant’s face as he poked around the outside of that old service station. He looked a whole lot like a kid with an exciting new toy.
What if he actually bought it? Mixed emotions ran through her. Would he stay in Misty Bottoms? Live here? She let out a long breath. She’d prepared herself to resist the temporary temptation that was Brant Wylder. Could she handle permanent?
And Jax. That baby turned her inside out.
Brant had pulled the rug out from under her today, and she supposed she should be angry with him. But it was business, and she understood that. He needed to do what worked for him and his brothers. This sure changed the playing field, though.
She transferred the soft, still-warm rolls she’d picked up at Tansy’s into a basket. Maybe she’d manage to get through the evening without touching Brant, without picking up Jax or inhaling that sweet baby scent. Without kissing those chubby cheeks or his uncle’s stubbled chin.
If she could do that, she wouldn’t ache for a baby of her own to cuddle, for a man who’d love her, only her. A man who would stay with her forever, who wouldn’t pack up and leave with no warning.
A man she could trust.
At the core of her problem, at the heart of her list, lay the need for that trust. The stability it would provide. She needed the constancy her mother had lost when Dad left, and she couldn’t imagine having that with Brant. He was as married to his business as she was to hers. And he hadn’t trusted her with his plans. Had instead kept them from her. Would he have fessed up if she hadn’t run into them at the station?
Still, he loved and fretted over his family…but would he always? Hadn’t her dad loved her and her mother, worried about them?
And wasn’t she a mass of conflict and contradictions?
She was cutting lemons for their water when the doorbell rang.
Trouble had come to her home—at her invitation.