If I Loved You. Leigh Riker
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...
She couldn’t blame Pop for resenting Brig. It wasn’t easy for her, either, to have him in the house. She’d really offered for Laila’s sake, and as long as Molly kept her distance she’d be okay.
“Another day or two,” she said, “won’t hurt us. The baby doesn’t belong in some stark hotel room, Pop, not when we have a good crib right here. And if she requires anything, the nursery in Little Darlings likely has it. Brig needs access to a kitchen for her, too.”
“Huh,” Thomas said. “So he stays and that little mite wraps her finger around our hearts. Then what?”
Molly felt his concern, his hurt, because they echoed her own. He had once wanted grandchildren just as badly as she’d wanted children. They would have been good for him. Ever since her mother had died, he’d been like someone lost in a wilderness, and Molly often felt helpless at easing his sorrow when she was still struggling with her own.
“About Brig’s key...” She felt the need to explain, just as Brig had. “His parents changed the locks after his last visit.” No, that didn’t sound right. “I mean, remember they had that break-in a while ago and upped their security? New door included. They wanted to give him a key, he said, but he was overseas, and they never know quite where he is really.” They had known about Afghanistan, though. And all that red tape. “I imagine they expected to be here when he arrived with Laila.”
Thomas’s features tensed. “I never heard a word about that baby. Maybe Joe and Bess aren’t as good-hearted as you are, Molly. Maybe they decided to take off—go on a cruise—or maybe they just don’t want to raise someone else’s child.”
Shocked, Molly leaned forward. “That’s a dreadful thing to say. You sound like Ann when she talks about Jeff Barlow. What’s with the two of you?”
Thomas seized the opportunity to shift the conversation.
“Ann?” He snorted. “You ever notice how she looks at him?”
“Yes, but...I notice more how she avoids him.”
“Well, look again.” The piercing glance he sent Molly made her squirm.
Did her dad also see how she looked at Brig when she thought no one would notice? She should just ignore his dark hair, his blue eyes, his broad shoulders and strong body. A body honed for war, she reminded herself, not love. Not her.
Eye candy, she tried to tell herself. Why not look if she did only that?
“We were talking about Brig’s family.” She hesitated. “There was a time when the Colliers wanted grandchildren as much as you did.”
Thomas drew a breath. “What business does a man like that have with a baby? He’s never home. He certainly doesn’t have a wife....”
Ah. So that was it. Still.
“Pop. Don’t.” She paused again. “By the way, Brig told me you issued him some warning about me.”
“Of course I did. You’re my girl.”
“I understand how you feel, but you don’t need to worry.”
He gave her another skeptical look, and Molly held his gaze until he had to avert his eyes. Lately, his protectiveness, his dependence upon her, had started to wear thin.
“I will worry,” he said.
“I’m not interested in Brig. That’s over.”
Even Brig’s mother had once told Molly that being married to a military man meant one long separation broken by short reunions. It meant moving again, often without much notice, just when you’d put down roots somewhere. And it meant always taking second place to duty. Maybe it was a good thing Brig had left and Andrew had stayed.
Her husband’s steady devotion had suited her.
“Andrew and I had our differences, especially toward the end, but I’m not about to tarnish his memory.” She took a breath. “Especially with a man who ultimately couldn’t commit to me. I had Andrew,” she said softly. And for a few months at least, they’d almost had the baby they’d wanted, that first grandchild for Pop. “I don’t need anyone else,” she added.
“You have me.”
Molly