If I Loved You

“Why not? You are.”

Ouch. The words echoed in the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Ann murmured. “That was an awful thing to say. But I should never have gone out with him, and the sooner Jeff Barlow realizes I’m not interested, the better. With Ernie here at the center, I can hardly avoid him.”

Molly’s eyes still stung from Ann’s earlier words. “You sure try.”

“Yes, and my new best friend is caller ID.”

The throwaway tone didn’t sit well with Molly. She bustled around the room, gathering stray blocks, stacking them and trying to wrestle the remnants of her own fresh pain into some sort of order.

She didn’t have a choice about being alone, but in Molly’s view, Ann was throwing away her potential for happiness with both hands—if not with the sheriff, then with someone else.

Molly shut the cupboard doors for the night and turned to find Ann with tears in her eyes. And Molly’s shoulders sagged. “Is it because of Ernie?” she asked, echoing Jeff’s earlier concern. “He’s a great little kid.”

Ann sniffed. “I know.”

“And I know you like children. You’re wonderful with the babies here. You like them so much you just had to carry Melissa Jones’s diaper bag to the car so you could spend one more minute today with her little Ashley.”

As if caught committing some terrible crime, Ann flushed.

“Well, you are good,” Molly said. “Would I have hired you if not?”

Ann rolled her eyes. “You hired me because you were shorthanded, and I had my degree in education and no other job.”

Which was only part of the reason. Yes, Molly had needed to fill that staff position, but was she simply enabling her sister to avoid dealing with the long-ago tragedy that had changed her life?

For years Ann had not only kept to herself, but she refused to go more than a mile or two from home. Her apartment was just blocks away from Little Darlings, and every day she walked to work. Ann owned a car, which she maintained, and for which she renewed her registration and driver’s license. But she never got behind the wheel. She hadn’t driven once since the accident.

Just as Molly rarely drove past the house she and Andrew had shared in Cincinnati’s Hyde Park neighborhood—and always told herself it was out of her way now. She’d been living with Pop since shortly after Andrew died.

Molly softened her tone. “I also hired you because I love you,” she said. “And to keep you close,” she added with a teasing grin, “so you can take over when Pop gets to be too much for me. In the meantime...I honestly thought you and Jeff were going somewhere. Why not give him—”

“A chance?”

“If it doesn’t work out, you can move on.”

“Like you?” Ann asked.

Another barb for Molly.

“That’s enough,” Molly said, barely holding her temper in check.

“Or maybe I’m wrong.” Ann hesitated, frowning. “Maybe I’m not the only one here with man trouble. I’ve talked to Dad. What is Brigham Collier doing in the house?”

“Waiting for his parents,” Molly said.

The image crossed her mind again before she could stop it. Brig, his dark hair tousled, his blue eyes unable to hide his exhaustion. Brig all but asleep on his feet, holding Laila in his arms.

“Really? Waiting? That’s all?” Ann said. “You’re sure?”

Molly looked away. She could feel her cheeks coloring. “I’m sure.”

Ann was no fan of Brig’s, she knew. From the moment he’d canceled his wedding to Molly and Ann had returned her bridesmaid’s dress to the store, she’d kept him at the top of her personal blacklist. Molly reminded herself that she and Ann were sisters. How could she blame Ann for caring about her?

“You don’t have to worry,” she said, hating that she was justifying herself. “You won’t have to pick up the pieces again. And may I point out that Jeff Barlow is a very different guy?”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ann said, turning toward the door.

“Just something for you to think about,” Molly murmured, but Ann was gone, leaving her alone with her unhappy awareness of her sister’s increasingly isolated existence. Like Pop. Then she thought of herself.

Hadn’t she learned her lesson years ago? Brig wouldn’t stay long in Liberty Courthouse now, either. Well, she had no intention of letting him into her life again. Even if he did have the most adorable baby on earth.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_df54f278-deb3-5747-a023-89fd9925a0f5)

Hey, Collier. Trip go okay? How’s the little lady? The guys already miss her. Bet your mom and dad like her, too, huh? Off to find some bad guys. H.

BRIG READ THE email again from his teammate, but his smile didn’t last. His thoughts were elsewhere. He had meant what he told Thomas. He had no intention of hurting Molly.

At her kitchen table he punched another number into his cell phone. And frowned. After his earlier run-in with Thomas, he’d double-checked next door again, but Thomas had been right. Still no one was home. His parents’ mobile number kept telling him they were unavailable and sending his calls to voice mail. Their landline didn’t help, either. Right next door, behind a lock he couldn’t access, their answering machine announced their voice mail was full.

Many of those messages were probably from him. He hung up one last time. Molly was home and in the kitchen before he could get out of her way.

“It’s freezing out again.” She bustled around the kitchen, taking off her coat, shaking out her wind-whipped hair. “Where’s Laila?”

“Still napping. I hope. I’ll see in a minute.” He closed his phone, determined to clear the air. “Molly, I didn’t mean to crash on you like that yesterday. Thanks,” he said, “for giving us a room last night. And feeding Laila for me. You’ve been more than generous, considering...” Then he couldn’t find the words he really needed to say.

“What?”

“Well, you know. For one thing...” He looked past her toward the dining room, the front door. “My running off like that years ago—as if I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“You did appear to be in a hurry.” She attempted a smile, but it didn’t come. “Of course, watching a hometown girl walk down the aisle in a long white dress can’t be as exciting as trying to save the world.”

Brig felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach. Her tone was blithe—deliberately so?—but she made him sound petty. He deserved that, too.

Molly pushed up her sleeves and started to fix dinner. His gaze tracked her movements as she took hamburger from the fridge, a package of buns from the bread box. She flipped on a burner, formed patties from the meat, slapped them into a skillet. Who knew a woman’s efficiency in the kitchen could be a turn-on?

“Well,” she said, just as he had, “now we’ve gotten that off our chests...”

“Have we? Molly. I didn’t want to leave you then. I just wanted—”

“To leave,” she finished for him. “No, let’s not go there. That’s all water under the bridge,” she said, “and we’re not kids, Brig. Eight years is way too long for me to hold a grudge. But last night, I admit, I was a little—a lot—shocked to see you.”

“And Laila, certainly.”

“And Laila,” she agreed. “I doubt Pop’s very keen on having you here, but—”

“No, he’s not. He already warned me not to make another mistake.”