Chapter 8
After stopping at Tommy’s Texaco for gas and a just-in-case emergency midnight snack, Brant unlocked his door and carted Jax inside. By sneaking up the back stairs, he’d managed to avoid any of Annabelle’s other guests.
Moonlight drifted through the windows. It was six o’clock and already dark outside. He was ready for summer, with its longer days. Flopping on the bed, he muttered, “Give me two seconds here, kiddo, and we’ll see about your dinner.”
The words had barely passed his lips when Jax started to cry. Brant’s chin dropped, and he rolled off the bed, barely resisting the urge to cry himself. Tears. They might mean Jax was hungry or wet. Lonely or mad. All or any or none of those.
With a resigned sigh, he unstrapped Jax and brought him up to his shoulder. “Oh, phew!” Extending his arms, he held the baby away from him. “You stink again.”
The baby let out a couple of hiccupping cries.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s get you changed.”
Tossing a towel on the bedroom carpet, he placed Jax in the center of it. With the wipes, wastebasket, and diapers within easy reach, he settled down to business. Concentrating, tongue between his teeth like a three-year-old with crayons, Brant barely resisted throwing his arms in the air in victory when he managed the change with more finesse than ever.
“Suppose you want to eat now, don’t you?”
Happy again, Jax shook a drool-covered rattle.
“Tell you what. How about we work on that crawl before dinner?”
Jax rolled onto his stomach and got his knees under him.
“Well, I’ll be darned. You understood, didn’t you?”
Jax jabbered, moved three inches, and toppled. Like the Wylder warrior he was, he raised up again.
Brant kicked off his shoes, pulled off a sock, and tossed it a few inches in front of the baby. Jax immediately scrambled for it. Picking it up, he sat down on his newly diapered butt, waving the sock like a checkered flag.
Brant snatched it from him and threw it again, a little farther away.
Jax was off again.
Brant laughed. “Who needs a dog to play fetch?”
After a few more practices, Jax stuck his fist in his mouth and sucked on it.
“Message received. Hunger strikes.” He eyed their choices. “Since we stocked up earlier, zee chef has a wide selection of veritable treats for the palate.” He held up a jar of beets, and Jax stuck out his tongue.
“Okay, how about this?” Brant palmed a jar of pureed pork.
“Bababa!”
“Actually, bababa would be lamb, Einstein, but close enough. Pork it is.”
Spoonful by painful spoonful, Brant fed him. He made swooshing sounds. “Here comes the race car in for repair. Open the garage door wide.”
Jax joined in the game, but when he spit out two mouthfuls in a row, Brant set aside Annabelle’s spoon and bowl. “Okay, we’re done here.” He swiped the worst of the pork out of the baby’s ears and off his forehead and cheeks.
Using a tissue to capture a glob on Jax’s toe, he said, “I’ll swear under oath I have no idea how that got there, small stuff.” He rocked back on his heels. “I need a shower to wash away the hospital stench. Wanna join me?”
The clean diaper came off, and Brant hauled the naked little boy into the shower. Jax slapped at the water, giggling and jabbering—until he tipped his head back and got a nose full. Playtime over.
And Brant had yet to lather up.
After a couple of sneezes, Jax cleared the downed water and stopped crying. He snuggled quietly, curled against Brant’s bare chest.
If there had been a hidden camera in this room, somebody somewhere would have been laughing his ass off. At the same time, Brant was astounded at the peace he felt, the belief that all would be well.
But he really did need to wash. After the quickest and least satisfying one-handed shower of his life, he wrapped Jax in a towel and used another to dry himself. Holding the baby in front of the mirror, Brant used a face towel to wipe away the shower haze.
He leaned close and stuck out his tongue.
Jax giggled and opened his mouth. His little tongue moved, but he couldn’t quite pull off the trick.
Brant slowly stuck out his tongue again.
Jax managed to imitate him by the third time.
“You’re a future Mensa member, kid.”
The baby laughed, and Brant high-fived him.
Then Jax’s face turned red.
“Oh no,” Brant groaned. “Wait, wait, wait!” Holding him over the toilet, he whipped away the towel—just in time. “Not bad, kid.”
After some struggling, Brant managed to get both the diaper and clean pajamas on Jax. “We need better sleeping arrangements, champ. Even when you nod off, you keep me awake. I’m afraid I’ll roll over and crush you.”
His gaze fell on Annabelle’s antique cherry dresser. “Aha!” Pulling out the bottom drawer, he grabbed another fluffy bath towel and used it as a liner.
Both Wylder men would sleep in their own beds tonight.
He grabbed the new thriller he’d packed in his duffel and settled down in bed with the baby beside him, sucking on his pacifier. Fourteen pages in, Jax started rubbing his eyes. Within minutes, he surrendered to the sandman. Nearly floored with relief and fatigue, Brant tucked the baby into his makeshift crib, then crawled into his own bed.
The second he closed his eyes, he fell asleep.
Unfortunately, Jax chose that exact moment to wake, and the pattern was set.
Jax slept fitfully, waking every couple of hours. Brant paced the floor with him, worried something might be seriously wrong. Should he call a doctor? Wake Annabelle and ask her?
How in the heck did anybody survive this?
Standing in front of the window, Brant kissed the top of Jax’s head. The baby gripped his T-shirt and tipped his head back to stare up at him. This innocent child trusted him. Him! Of all people.
Karma could be a sly, twisted little devil. A week ago, if anybody had so much as hinted that he’d be walking the floor with a baby in the middle of the night, he’d have suggested a good shrink. Yet here he was.
Finally, dawn peeked through the windows, and Jax sighed loudly and fell asleep. Brant felt like the walking dead and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for twenty-four hours solid. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
How had Lainey coped? She hadn’t, and none of them had realized it in time. Had Aunt Flo noticed? If so, why hadn’t she given them a heads-up?
He kept walking, patting Jax’s back, for another five minutes. When he stayed asleep, Brant carefully eased himself onto the bed, snuggling the baby up beside him this time. Within seconds, he tumbled into his own dreams.
* * *
Disoriented and sleep foggy, Brant slowly became aware of insistent pounding. Raising up on one elbow, he glanced around the room.
“You checking out today?” Annabelle shouted through the door.
Jax started awake and whimpered.
“No!” Brant answered. “Go away.”
“You didn’t buy this room, you know. I’ve got people coming who expect to stay here.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of it.” The second the words passed his lips, he remembered what Lainey had said yesterday. Had she been right? Did he try to handle everything?
Whatever. In this case he had no choice. “Any chance I can extend my stay?”
Silence.
“Annabelle?”
“I’m checking.” Another half minute passed. “I can put tonight and tomorrow night in the end room. Two nights, that’s it. I’m full up after that.”
“Thank you.”
“Yep.”
Afraid to move, he heard the innkeeper shuffle down the hall in those too-big purple Converse sneakers she wore.
“Goodbye, Annabelle,” he mumbled. Scooping the baby close, he sang what he could remember of a lullaby song, adding a lot of la-la-las for missing words. Jax quieted and, sucking his thumb, fell back asleep.
Brant joined his nephew in a little more shut-eye.
* * *
Molly had been up for hours. Since yesterday hadn’t gone quite the way she’d planned, she set her alarm a little earlier and used the extra time to catch up. The girls would be here soon.
While she tidied her already immaculate office, her mind wandered. She’d woken this morning thinking about Brant and, strangely enough, about her parents. About the way her father had abandoned her and her mom. She’d brought it up a couple of times, and her mother had assured her it had nothing to do with her but that someday she’d understand. Molly had quit asking, afraid it really had been her fault, that her dad left them because of something she had or hadn’t done.
Maybe—
The ringing phone jerked her out of her reverie.
“Good morning. That Little White Dress. How can I help you?”
“By giving me some information about my sister.”
Straightening, Molly drew her phone away to read caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number or the low rumbling voice, although it sounded familiar.
“Excuse me?”
“Is this Molly Stiles?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Tucker Wylder, Brant’s brother. We talked—sort of—yesterday.”
“I remember. I’m afraid, Tucker, I haven’t found a good-looking gal to help out with Jax yet.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know—”
“That I was in the car.”
“Yeah, but that’s not why I called. You went with Brant when he visited Lainey.”
Since it was a statement rather than a question, Molly wasn’t quite sure what he expected her to say.
“Here’s the deal,” Tucker said. “Brant tends to put a good twist on things, then works his butt off to make them come out that way. What’s your take on Sis?”
“My take?”
“Yeah. How is she? Honestly?”
“I didn’t see or talk to your sister. Brant was the only visitor allowed. I hung out with Jax in the waiting room.”
A sound of pure male frustration came over the line.
Molly took pity on him. “I won’t lie. Brant’s worried about her, but he insists she’s getting great care and with time she’ll be good as new. I believe him.”
“You do?”
“All right. Sometimes he pretties things up so the rest of us won’t worry. How’s he doing?”
A chuckle escaped despite her best efforts. “He’s, uh, struggling with the whole baby thing.”
Tucker laughed. “I’ll bet. Wish I was there to see it.”
“He wishes you were here to help.”
“I will be. As soon as possible.” He paused. “Thanks, Molly. I appreciate what you’re doing for my family—and Brant, especially.”
“My pleasure.” Nice to know Brant had someone who worried about him.
While she was on the phone, Jenni Beth, Tansy, and Cricket had straggled in.
“Come on back,” she called.
She’d walled off a corner of the showroom and turned the small space into a cozy haven. The pale-blue walls, white carpet, and crystal lamps conjured a feeling of peace. The outer wall slanted, adding, in her opinion, to the sense of intimacy. Black-and-white photos of brides covered the wall behind her glass-topped desk.
The three wandered in, chatting a mile a minute, and Cricket placed a vase of fresh flowers on the desk. The scent of blue hydrangeas and delphiniums, blush roses, and white Asiatic lilies added to the undeniable femininity of the room.
“I can’t believe we’re wrapping up the details for my wedding!” Cricket, wearing baggy cotton pants and a gauzy yellow top, dropped into a chair, her short crop of hair even wilder than usual. “It’s finally my turn. Sam just kind of found me when I wasn’t even looking!”
She grinned. “I’m a florist, so my wedding has to revolve around flowers, right? I want my bouquet to look like I picked the flowers from my own garden that morning.” Cricket sighed. “Friday night, after rehearsal, we’ll have a big old bonfire in the backyard. With champagne. Lots and lots of champagne.”
“Until then—” The ever-organized Tansy held up two thermoses of mocha coffee and pulled four mugs from a tote. “Kitty’s tending the bakery.” Settling into one of the plush chairs, she slid off her shoes and opened a baker’s box. “A sampler of goodies I’m testing for Valentine’s Day. They’ll hit my shelves at week’s end, so if they need tweaking, tell me now. And be honest!”
Cricket groaned. “You do remember I have to fit into that utterly gorgeous dress Molly found for me, don’t you?” She sighed. “I can’t wait for Sam to get a load of that corset top and tulle skirt.”
She sighed again and eyed Tansy’s goodie tray. “The enemy. If I gain even an ounce, Molly will have to let out the seams.”
“Seriously?” Jenni Beth, her blond hair pulled back in a long ponytail, scrutinized her friend. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Nerves.”
“So feed them.” Tansy, in a slim pencil skirt and olive-green top that set off her auburn curls, nudged the tray closer to Cricket. “Try the red-velvet crepe. It’s filled with mascarpone cream.”
Jenni Beth tapped a finger on her chin and picked up a raspberry-buttercream-covered brownie. “This looks absolutely decadent.” Her lips turned up in a mischievous grin. “Speaking of decadent, what’s this I’m hearing about my roommate and one devilishly handsome Tennessean?”
“What?” Looking for all the world like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Molly swiped a cookie crumb from her lower lip.
“Did you or did you not go to Savannah with Brant Wylder yesterday?”
“He needed help,” she answered slowly. “I played Good Samaritan.”
“He is so hot,” Tansy breathed.
“You can say that again,” Cricket agreed.
Jenni Beth’s gaze stayed on Molly.
“Geez!” Still holding her cookie, she held out her hands, palms up. “It’s not like we had a smoking-hot date. Even if I were interested in him—which I’m not—we had a baby with us. A seven-month-old baby.”
“Glen, over at the wine shop?” Jenni Beth licked raspberry frosting from her finger. “He put in a few hours yesterday.”
“It was Sunday.” Molly frowned. “They’re closed Sundays.”
“Which is exactly why he figured it would be a good time to stock shelves.”
“He stayed later than he’d planned.”
“What a shame to spend his day off at work,” Molly said quietly.
Her friend shrugged. “He saw… How should I put this? Some serious PDA occurring across the street.” Managing to look innocent, she asked, “Did you see anything? Maybe outside your window? You know, when you were checking the weather or watching the sunset?”
“Nope, not a thing.” Molly felt the hot blush and picked up her notebook. “Now, what still needs to be done for Cricket’s wedding?”
The others shared a knowing glance.
Her fault. Small town. She should have known better.
Jenni Beth put an arm around her and whispered, “Don’t shut yourself off, Mol. Stay open.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not. You’re afraid you’ll let yourself feel, then Brant will do exactly what your dad did.”
Molly had no answer.
* * *
Wednesday morning finally rolled around. Bone weary, Brant yawned.
Incredibly, he and Jax had survived three entire days—and nights. Seventy-two hours that felt like three months. Sleep like a baby. Ha! Whoever had coined that term had some sick sense of humor. Babies didn’t sleep. They napped only long enough to make you think you could sleep. The minute you shut your eyes? All hell broke loose.
Even before Annabelle’s Monday-morning visit, he understood he and Jax couldn’t stay at the B and B indefinitely. Heck, he was surprised she’d put up with them this long, and even more baffled one of the other guests hadn’t complained or run them out of town.
Every day, he and Jax showered, ate, then burned up the road between Misty Bottoms and Savannah. More than once, he’d stopped for an emergency diaper change or a quick cuddle. The kid liked to be touched, but then, who didn’t? He thought about those kisses he and Molly had stolen outside her shop. She was hot.
And she was busy. Fortunately, the hospital had a day care where he could leave Jax during his visits with Lainey. Physically, she was making progress, but Brant didn’t kid himself. The hardest part lay ahead of them.
He’d kept the family up-to-date, and yesterday he’d tried to talk his sister into some Facetime with their parents. She’d flat-out refused, finally pulling the sheet over her head.
After a full half hour of silence, he’d kissed her forehead through the cotton. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Lainey. Love you.”
She didn’t answer, and he’d left with a heavy heart.
On the way home, he and Jax had detoured to check out the first spot he and his brothers had tapped as a possible relocation site. He wasn’t impressed. It lacked both the building space and the land they needed, so he’d ruled it out.
He’d wait till he was in a better frame of mind to scope out the second location.
But that was yesterday. More than Jax kept him awake last night. Somewhere around two, his thoughts wandered from his sister’s mess to Molly. While he and Jax paced the floor, he remembered the feel of her in his arms. Her quick laugh and bottomless eyes. The scent that was uniquely hers, hot and sexy, feminine and innocent. Somehow she’d crawled into his head.
Massaging the back of his neck, he dragged himself out of bed. Six forty-five a.m., and he was exhausted. Something had to change. He felt like one of those gerbils running on a wheel and getting absolutely nowhere.
Bleary-eyed, he punched the Keurig button and inhaled as the rich aroma of coffee filled the room. He took his first hit and scalded his tongue.
“Hot!” He took a second, more cautious sip and smiled. “Good.”
Despite the caffeine, Brant dragged butt. He needed a shower, a shave, and some slightly less rumpled clothes. Jax, however, disagreed and demanded the morning be about him. A bottle didn’t work. He spit out the peaches Brant tried to feed him. He even refused his pacifier.
Brant’s number-one priority shifted from a shower to keeping the kid from waking their neighbors. He and Jax hustled down the back stairs and headed to the Texaco station.
Tommy, a Braves cap clamped over his wild head of copper hair, met him at the pump. “How ya doin’ this mornin’?”
“Tired.”
“A baby’ll do that to ya.” Nozzle in hand, Tommy said, “Hot coffee inside, if you wanna grab a cup. I’ll keep an eye on the kid here while I fill your tank.”
“Thanks. Think I will.”
“Ham biscuits, too, if you’re interested,” Tommy called after him. “Wife made them not more than half an hour ago.”
The biscuits smelled like heaven, but Brant decided to stick with caffeine.
A few minutes later, with fresh coffee in hand and a full tank of gas, Brant pulled onto the two-lane. They were running tests on Lainey today, so the doctor had asked him to stay away. That meant he and Jax had a whole day to kill here in Misty Bottoms. What the heck would they do? It wasn’t as if he and his nephew could toss a football or fly a kite. Anxiety settled in. How did you keep a seven-month-old entertained?
He drove along the river with his heater on and his window cracked, enjoying the fresh country smells. Earlier, the fog had been heavy, but as the rest of the world woke, it too rose.
Brant glanced into the back seat and shook his head. As usual, the turning wheels had done the trick. The kid was out like a light, his left arm dangling limply at his side. Brant had a few quiet minutes to tussle with some important decisions.
First, though, he’d check out the second location on their list.
Pulling up to it, he remembered what they’d liked about it. This place had plenty of room. It needed some work, but that didn’t scare him. What did scare him, though, was the back of the building.
There’d been a fire. A major one. And that meant the basic structure had probably been compromised. Once they stripped the remaining walls, who knew what they’d find.
This one was a definite no-go. It needed a total rebuild.
Frustrated, he crawled back in the car, shutting his door quietly, then peeking in the rearview mirror. He loved the kid, he really did. But he’d had no idea how much work and attention a baby needed. Dealing with twins or triplets must feel like being swept away by a tsunami.
After executing a U-turn, he’d started back toward the center of town when his phone rang. “Hello?” Fearful of waking Jax, he kept his voice low.
“Hey, Bro. It’s Gaven.”
“Where are you?”
“Lake Delores. We got in late last night.”
A tiny fissure of hope cracked open.
“I can barely hear you, BT.”
“Don’t want to wake Jax.”
“Gotcha.”
They talked about Lainey and the Vette Gaven and Tucker had picked up.
“Neither of the places we tagged are gonna work for a shop.” Brant gave his brother a rundown on each. “I’ll keep my eyes open, though.”
“Good enough. As soon as we take care of a few things here, Tucker and I’ll head to Misty Bottoms. You still at the inn?”
“Yeah, but we’ve outstayed our welcome. Annabelle needs the room.” He scratched his head. “I might have to book one in Savannah.”
“Let us know. Tucker’s telling me to wind it up. Talk to you later.”
He hung up, and Brant was alone again.
Driving slowly along random streets, he was shocked at how many of the townspeople he’d come to know. He passed the huge lavender-and-green house at the end of Main. Tansy’s Sweet Dreams. She and Beck, whose family owned Elliot’s Lumber Yard, had tied the knot not long ago.
Speaking of Beck, Brant wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to get his hands on that guy’s ’65 Chevy short-bed stepside pickup. The thing was in perfect condition, except for one small dent in a back fender. Since it hadn’t been fixed, Brant smelled a story there.
Turning onto Old Church Street, he spied the periwinkle railroad car that housed Cricket O’Malley’s Enchanted Florist. Like so many small Southern towns, Misty Bottoms had been headed down the tubes—in the fast lane. When Jenni Beth transformed her family’s falling-down antebellum home into a destination wedding spot, the entire town had blossomed.
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 blend 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 T-shirts.
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.