Baby Makes a Match

“Looks like God brought both of us to the right place,” she noted in a shaky voice.

“You’d think I’d learn to let Him handle things, wouldn’t you?” Garrett said with a guilty glance in Chandler’s direction.

Bethany chuckled and wiped tears from her cheeks. “That’s something I guess we both have to work on.”

Watching those slender fingertips swipe at the moisture on her ivory cheeks, Chandler felt a lump rise in his own throat and shifted uncomfortably. He realized suddenly that it was past time for him to be about his own business, even if he was tired due to lack of sleep. That, he told himself stoutly, was what was behind this sudden emotionalism, surely.

“How soon do you think I can speak to your father about the job?” Bethany asked him.

Chandler opened his mouth, but Hypatia spoke first.

“Chandler, dear,” she said, “might you take Bethany to meet your father Monday?”

“Me?”

“That will give us time to speak to Hubner about it beforehand,” Hypatia said to Bethany.

“Grease the skids, in other words,” Garrett said wryly.

Magnolia laughed and quipped, “I’ll get out the oil can.”

Meanwhile, Hypatia answered Chandler. “Of course you, dear. You’re the perfect person to do it.”

Chandler flung a hand at Garrett. “Why not him?”

“On the back of my motorcyle?” Garrett retorted, shaking his head. “Not in her condition.”

“And Chester is busy,” Odelia informed him helpfully, “especially Monday. It’s Hilda’s shopping day, you know.”

The aunties themselves did not drive. Chandler thought of his appointment with his cousin, the attorney, on Monday and a hundred and one other things he needed to get done as quickly as possible, but he knew that he had to do this. Talking to his dad about a job had been his idea in the first place, and Bethany was not getting on the back of that motorcycle if he could prevent it.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” he said with less grace than he might have. “Now if that’s settled, I’m going to move most of my stuff into the attic.”

“You’re moving in here?” Garrett asked, his brows drawing together.

Chandler rose. “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not. Just surprised.”

“That makes two of us,” Chandler muttered. He purposefully did not look at Bethany, but turned to dispense kisses to the papery cool cheeks of his aunties, thanking them for their hospitality.

“Don’t worry,” Hypatia said, beaming a smile, “It’s a very big house.”

“The east suite should suit,” Magnolia began, but Chandler waved that away.

“Naw, I’ll just take one of the big bedrooms.”

“In that case,” Odelia chirped, “perhaps the room behind the attic stairs? It has a window and is convenient to the attic.”

Chandler shrugged. “Fine with me.”

“Perfect!” Odelia exclaimed, clapping her hands. “That’s right next to the master suite where Bethany and Garrett are staying.”

Chandler raised his eyebrows. Evidently, the aunties were going all out in their support of the Willows siblings. Well, it was no skin off his nose, especially when they were willing to house him, too. But not for long, God willing, not for long. In fact, with single, pretty Bethany in residence, the sooner he got his business in order and moved out of Chatam House, the better.

It was all he could do to keep from looking at her one more time before he stepped out into the corridor and strode toward the library.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Chandler glanced over his shoulder at Bethany’s brother.

“That’s not necessary.”

“No, I insist.”

O-o-o-kay, Chandler thought, wondering if Garrett was about to warn him away from his sister. Not that Garrett had anything to worry about. The very last thing Chandler needed in his life right now was a woman, especially a pregnant woman.

“Your breakfast will be waiting in the kitchen when you’re done,” Hypatia called.

Chandler brightened, thinking of Hilda’s excellent cooking. “A ray of light in an otherwise dim world,” he retorted drolly.

“If that means Hilda’s cooking is the best, I couldn’t agree more,” Garrett said, lengthening his stride to bring himself even with Chandler.

Chandler shook his head. “First you try to beat me down and then you jump over into the amen corner.”

“For the record,” Garrett retorted, keeping pace with Chandler, “I did beat you down.”

“In your dreams, brother.”

“I’m not your brother.”

Chandler snorted. “You could be. Neither of them can throw a decent punch, either.”

“Now you’ve gone from dreaming to sheer insanity,” Garrett said drily, and for some reason they were both suddenly grinning. “You handle yourself pretty well, too, though.”

“Thanks,” Chandler drawled.

“So where’d you learn to fight like that, anyway?”

“I rodeo for a living,” Chandler replied. “There’s always some drunk cowboy wanting to take you down a peg.” The truth was that he hadn’t been in a real fight in ages, but early on the occasional fracas into which Kreger had dragged him had almost seemed, well, fun. “How about you?”

Garrett paused just outside the library door and met Chandler’s gaze. “Prison,” he answered grimly.

Chandler rocked back. “Yeah? How come?”

Garrett sighed. “Like I said, I’ve been known to be a little overprotective of the women in my family.”

“Do my aunts know about this?”