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“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing.” His dismissive tone effectively shut the door on that line of conversation.
“How do you feel about Baker having a child?” Might as well go back to another topic to make him uncomfortable.
He glared at me over the top of his beer bottle. “Uh . . . don’t care.”
“So you’d be all right dating someone with an infant? That baby didn’t look very old,” I said.
“Not my problem.” Holt slammed his empty beer bottle on the table. “I’m going to get another one. You want anything.”
“Please.”
He sauntered toward the bar in his easy way, garnering the attention of the few female patrons. My brother didn’t notice any of them, which surprised me. A few years ago, he’d been a ladies’ man. I’d have put money on one of these women going home with him.
Drinks in hand, he plopped back down in the chair across from me. “I don’t know if I’d date a woman with a kid. Especially that small.”
I fashioned a neutral expression on my face to hide my surprise at his candor. “If things got serious, that would be a lot of responsibility for somebody else’s child.” I took a swallow of the fresh drink. “Not to mention dealing with the daddy. That right there is enough to make a man think twice.”
“No kidding. A lifetime with a kid and an ex.” He gave me a look that said “no thanks.”
“Think there’s a woman out there worth it?” Trish popped into my mind. She’d be the kind that might be worth taking on a child, but I wasn’t sure I could do it if she was.
“Maybe. But I’m not ready for a baby.”
“Is anybody ever?”
Holt tipped his bottle toward me. “Probably not.”
“So what if Baker was single and childless?” I prodded.
“Really no point in playing this game, big brother.”
“Indulge me.”
“I might take her out. She’s attractive. Interesting too. Maybe too interesting.”
I knew exactly what he meant. Baker would be a handful. One dinner around her was all it took to figure that out.
“How long are you going to stay in town?”
Surprise flickered on his face that I’d dropped the subject of Baker so easily. “I’m not sure yet.”
“When do you have to be back at work?”
“I took a few weeks off. I had time to burn, so I thought I’d use it.”
Something wasn’t right with him. We didn’t know each other well enough for me to have a clue what that something might be. And that was on me because I was older by seven years. I should’ve made more effort.
“I’m going to see Mom,” he said, and I nearly dropped the glass of whiskey.
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“History. Old wounds.” He picked at the edge of the label on his new beer bottle. “I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t bother,” I spat, anger boiling up inside me. “Dad would be crushed.”
“He never asked us to pick sides.”
