If I Loved You

She quirked an eyebrow, then opened the pantry door. Brig studied her slim figure and the way she fit her jeans, but with Thomas’s words in mind, he knew he had no business ogling Molly.

“Your dad’s a hard case,” he said to distract himself. “Kind of like my dad. So I’m used to that. When I was a kid and my father was still on active duty, he could be a real force to contend with.” He paused. “But then, so was I.”

“No wonder Pop and Joe are friends as well as neighbors.”

“Yeah, and a good thing Dad’s mellowed over the years.”

Have you? But Molly didn’t pose the question.

Brig looked down at the cell phone in his hand. “Sorry to still be sticking around. I’ve tried all day to reach my parents.” He could have kicked himself. “This is my own fault. The last time I spoke to them, I told them not to phone me again. Communications are never the best over there, and I was busy making arrangements to bring Laila to the States. I said my next call would be to let them know when we’d arrive.”

“So your coming back wasn’t a surprise.”

“No, but too bad I couldn’t give them a firm date. I don’t know who else to call now,” he said. “Another locksmith just told me he can’t open the door to a house that isn’t mine. No surprise there.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, I knew better than to ask. It was a desperate move on my part.” Another one, he thought, and stood. He could have picked the old lock—one of his many warrior skills—but the new dead bolt was a more difficult obstacle. So was the alarm system, assuming his father had remembered to set it.

Molly emerged from the pantry. “I wish I could think of someone...”

“Don’t worry. As soon as Laila wakes from her nap, I’ll phone for a cab and we’ll be out of your hair.” And Thomas’s. He flipped open the phone again. “I’m sure we can get a hotel room for tonight. My folks are bound to turn up soon.”

That sounded pathetic even to Brig, and deepened his frown.

“And miss seeing them when they pull in the drive?” Molly hesitated a bit too long, then said, as if she’d surprised herself, “I’ve forgotten my manners. You have the perfect vantage point from here to see when they get home.”

The warm air in the cozy kitchen carried the aroma of seared beef, and Brig’s mouth watered. Or was it the sight of Molly’s green eyes dark with concern?

She’d always been pretty, but at thirty she had an inner beauty to match. Too bad he’d blown his chance with her long ago.

Not even hearing what she’d said, he carried on with his line of thought. “In the meantime, who knows where my parents are?” he said. “Or with whom? Most of the landline numbers for their friends have gone to new phone company customers because Mom and Dad’s gang have all moved to Florida or Arizona. The couple I remember best,” he went on, “is living in Mexico. If my folks went to visit one of their old friends, I wouldn’t know where to even start a search. As for any new people...”

He looked hopefully at Molly, who only shook her head.

“I really don’t know who might be in their circle now. Your parents are more social than Pop. Since he retired, he sticks close to home. He golfs occasionally with your dad, but that’s all.”

“Well, my folks are for sure not in town. No activity I can think of would keep them away this long.”

“You didn’t call them from...wherever on the way home?” Molly asked.

Brig shook his head. “When I finally got a military flight out, it was either jump on the plane with Laila while we had the chance or miss out and have to wait until whenever the next hop came.” He paused. “I called home from Frankfurt, from my home base on the East Coast and then from JFK, even from here in Cincy. But I had to leave messages....” He trailed off. “The folks must have already gone. And then Laila was being a handful with the time change.”

“I’m sure you did the best you could,” Molly said.

Not exactly, Brig thought. He was always hard on himself—partly because he was the son and only child of a military family with strict discipline and even stricter expectations.

He knew his best wasn’t always good enough. To prove it, he said, “Doesn’t take most people I’ve seen twenty minutes to change a diaper. That was false bravado you saw last night.”

“Practice,” Molly murmured. “That’s all you need.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And about fifty books on child care.”

She was rinsing potatoes at the sink, chopping them, then dropping the pieces into a pot of water. For whipped potatoes? Another of his favorites. He hadn’t had them in months.

She pointed a paring knife at the backyard. “There’s a library out in the center—my day care business behind the house. You’re welcome to borrow any of those books, or all of them.”

Which was another of his problems. Time to read—time to do anything. Brig’s gut tightened. His emergency leave couldn’t last forever. He needed to find his parents and get Laila into their temporary care before he had to take off again for parts unknown. Once he got that call, time would be off the table. He sure couldn’t take Laila back with him into the danger that had ended her parents’ lives.

He studied the play of light on Molly’s hair as she set the pan of potatoes on the stove, then turned on the burner. Her vulnerable nape tempted him.

Brig shifted in his seat. “I, uh, appreciate the offer. About the books,” he added. “But as I said, Laila and I had better clear out. We’ve taken up enough space here, and I don’t want to rile your father.”

“Nonsense. Stay for dinner,” she said. “Just...stay. I’ll handle Pop.”

The words had slipped from her mouth as naturally as they might have years ago before Brig had left her. How many times had Molly or her mother invited him to dinner? Made him feel like part of their family? Thomas was right again. She had been so welcoming, when he didn’t deserve it. She looked so good, he wondered how he had left in the first place.

Yet what else, really, could she say?

Molly had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever known.

Which only made him feel worse, as if he was taking advantage.

Her father’s warning echoed in his mind. Brig had brought Laila home with only one thought: find a safe place for her with his parents. He realized he needed a long-term solution, but that would require some hard thinking about what was best for the baby and for him. What he hadn’t planned on was seeing a widowed Molly again, being attracted to her after all these years.

With a warrior’s sense of danger, Brig knew he was in trouble. Staying in Molly’s house did seem more practical than staying in a hotel, but his proximity to her would only exacerbate the memory of their broken engagement, and renew the tension between them. She was now the girl next door all grown up, and she offered the brief haven a war-weary Brig badly needed. But...

He would not hurt her again, even as he wondered how to keep his hands off her. Before he left, as he would have to again, he needed to win Molly’s forgiveness.

Maybe staying for another night could help accomplish that goal.

* * *

“WE HAVE A guest room,” Molly reminded her father after dinner that night. “Brig might as well use it.”

Molly had second thoughts of her own, but she’d already blurted out the invitation. She could hardly turn Brig and that sweet baby out into the night. The temperature had started to drop at noon. By the time her kids had gone home, the sky was black with clouds. It was already sleeting outside, and soon the roads would turn icy. The thought of Brig in a taxi, sliding along slick streets, then trying to cope with Laila in some cramped hotel room kept playing through her mind.

Yet how could she convince Pop it was all right for Brig and Laila to stay when she wasn’t that sure herself?

As if to prove her point, Thomas cast a sour glance at the ceiling. Upstairs, Brig was struggling to get the baby to sleep, and Molly suppressed a fresh wave of frustration. She was still worried about Ann, but Pop wasn’t helping her mood.

“What kind of son doesn’t have a key to his family home? I can answer that,” he said, not waiting for Molly to reply. “A man who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“That’s not true,” Molly shot back, quick to defend him. Too quick, perhaps, but she could see he did care about Laila. “It’s not Brig’s fault his parents have apparently left town.”

“Humph.”

His mouth a grim line, Pop followed her into the living room. Molly sat opposite his faded blue wing chair and attempted to coax a smile from her dad. She knew he wasn’t happy that Brig had breached his nightly routine with Molly: dinner, an extra helping of dessert that she wasn’t supposed to notice on Pop’s plate, his help with the dishes afterward, then their usual talk before he went up to bed. Sometimes they watched TV or a movie together, or he watched a sporting event while Molly pretended to enjoy it, too. She didn’t mind keeping him company. But now...