Mia Ross - The Bachelor's Baby

“Thursday’s fine,” he gritted out, hoping his irritation wasn’t too obvious. “I’ll see you then.”

He hung up, then closed his eyes and held the phone against his forehead. There were days when he wondered if the crazy scheme he’d concocted was worth the overwhelming effort he was putting into it. This was one of them, and to make it worse, setbacks like this made him doubt whether it was even possible for him to bring the long-dormant shop back to life.

Lifting his head, he took in his outdated surroundings in a more critical fashion than he had so far. The tools of his trade hadn’t changed all that much over the centuries—fire and force were still the essential components of metalworking. Above the fireplace, currently out of sight, was the problematic—and very expensive—air scrubber that was the key to him being certified to operate his coal-fired forge the old-fashioned way.

Aside from that, the vast collection of hammers, snips and anvils of various shapes were all he needed to fill his customers’ orders. But none of that mattered if he didn’t pass Mr. Williams’s inspection in two days, he reminded himself grimly. A rebel at heart, following other people’s rules had never been his strong point, and recalling the intimidating stack of forms made him want to scream in frustration.

Doing something physical was usually the cure for that, and he’d promised to dig Gran out this morning, anyway. His four-by-four crawled out of its spot without a problem, and he made the quick trip across town through a gray, frigid dawn that didn’t feel very promising. When he arrived at her house, he grabbed a shovel from its spot in the old carriage house and got to work.

One shovelful at a time. In his memory, he heard Granddad’s voice telling him that when he was a little boy doing his best to help with the wintertime task. That’s how even the biggest job gets done.

Stunned by the clarity of the message and how well suited it was to his current problem, Brian stopped and rested his gloves on the handle of the shovel. Listening closely, he didn’t pick up anything other than the rumble of a nearby plow and the rustling of bare tree branches in the breeze.

Had it been his imagination? he wondered. Tired as he was, it was a definite possibility that his mind was playing tricks on him, conjuring up some reassuring words from his grandfather to help him through a crisis.

“Is everything okay?”

Startled by the sound of an actual voice, Brian whipped around to find Lindsay standing inside the open front door, head tilted while she stared at him in obvious concern. In her hands she held an oversize coffee mug, steaming in the chilly air.

“Yeah, just taking a breather. What’re you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I’m making breakfast for Ellie. When I heard you out here, I thought you might like something warm to drink.”

It was a thoughtful thing to do, especially considering that just a few hours ago, he’d flatly refused to hire her. The faint pang of guilt he’d been feeling grew stronger, and he began to second-guess his decision. “Thanks for thinking of it. You shouldn’t be out here, though. It’s freezing.”

That got him a wry grin. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Yeah, she was, he remembered with more fondness than he would have preferred. Her delicate appearance masked a headstrong temperament that had proven to be more than a handful in their younger days. It was good to know that her current predicament hadn’t completely shattered the spirit he’d once admired so much.

“I’ll come in and thaw out,” he said, climbing the snowy steps to join her. “I’m ready for a break, anyway.”

After shedding his ice-caked boots and coat in the entryway, he followed Lindsay into the warm, welcoming space that was his grandmother’s little kingdom. Gifted with culinary talent and a knack for inventing new dishes, Gran had fed hundreds of family and friends over the years from the bright, unassuming kitchen that was her domain.

Lindsay opened the warming drawer of the commercial oven, and the scent of fresh pancakes made Brian’s empty stomach growl. She laughed, pulling several out to set on a plate for him. “It sounds like you’re hungry.”

“Starving. Thanks.”

He slathered on butter and drowned them in syrup that had come from maple trees outside of town. He was demolishing them when his grandmother came down the creaky wooden steps and into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, pausing to kiss the top of his head as if he was ten years old.

“Mmmng,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes.

She laughed and crossed the floor to pour hot water from the teakettle into a flowered china cup. “He sounds happy. How are you feeling this morning, Lindsay?”

“Fine, thanks.”

Brian quickly swallowed and asked, “Feeling? Were you sick yesterday?”

“Tired more than anything, I think. It comes with the territory,” she added, smoothing her hands over her plump waistline. “Growing a person is hard work.”

Brian had all he could do growing his business, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult her task was. Thinking of the forge reminded him of the impending deadline he now faced, and he realized that the solution to his problem was standing in his grandmother’s kitchen, spooning batter onto the griddle.

“Lindsay?” When she turned to glance at him, he swallowed his pride with some coffee and prepared his stomach for a bitter helping of crow. “I’ve got a major problem at the ironworks.” He explained it to her, ending with, “I’m still finishing up the installation of the unit, and there’s no way I can get everything done on my own. Would you consider taking that office manager job, after all?”

“Yes.”

Her answer came without hesitation, and he could hardly believe it. He’d anticipated her yanking his chain a little, perhaps making him grovel for entertainment’s sake. She didn’t even ask him how long their arrangement would last. It told him just how desperate she was, and he felt awful for the way he’d handled things with her yesterday. He didn’t want them starting off with any illusions about the position, so he cautioned her, “I’m not sure how much work I’ll have for you after that.”

“That’s okay,” she responded brightly. “Once you see what I can do, you might decide you can’t get along without me.”

“And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” Gran assured her with a smile. “I really enjoy having the company, and I can drop you off at the ironworks when I drive into the bakery.”

“That’s sweet of you, and I’d be happy to take you up on it. As a tenant.”

“Oh, posh,” Gran scoffed, waving away the offer. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is for me,” Lindsay insisted, sitting in the chair beside his grandmother. “I’m going to be a mom soon, and I need to be more responsible than I have been in the past. That means not letting people do things for me that I can do for myself.”

Gran sent him a questioning look, and he shrugged slightly. It was up to her, really, but he had to admit he was impressed by Lindsay’s insistence on paying her own way. Prompted by Jeff’s behavior, no doubt. In Brian’s opinion, it was definitely a change for the better.

The skunk may have actually done her a favor, he mused while he mopped up his syrup with the last of his pancakes. Maybe she’d needed to hit rock bottom to realize just how bad things had gotten.

Now there was no place for her to go but up. And if anyone he knew had the will to make that happen, it was Lindsay Holland.

* * *

Lindsay was in the middle of the daunting stack of paperwork when a tiny elbow poked her hard enough to snag her immediate attention. Massaging the spot, she kept moving in a circular motion until the little troublemaker inside her rolled over into a different position that was more comfortable.