Loving Bailey (9 page)

“I’m not kidding.” God, this was awful. She
steeled herself and forged ahead, like ripping off a bandage. “It’s
not because I haven’t wanted to have sex.” He had no idea how much
she wanted to have sex. “I just haven’t actually done it. Yet.”

The last word hung in the air, and the longer
it took him to respond the more self-conscious she felt, finally
covering her breasts with her arm.

Spencer moved away from her to stand at the
foot of the bed. His expression was kind and concerned with a
smidgeon of pity thrown in for good measure.
Perfect. Just
fucking perfect.

“I didn’t mean to mislead you, Bailey.” He
spoke slowly like he was searching for just the right words. “But
I’m not looking for anything serious. I like you, a lot, but I’m
not in love with you.”

She tried to roll her eyes, but it made her
head ache. She should have stopped drinking long before they got to
the brandy, but she‘d been nervous and it turned out, for good
reasons.

“Of course not. We’ve only known each other
for a couple of days. I’m not in love with you either.”

“But, honey, you’ve waited this long. Don’t
you want your first time to be with someone you love?”

This time she did roll her eyes, headache be
damned.

“Do you have any idea how awkward it is to be
a twenty-five year old virgin? I’m practically a myth or some kind
of bad comedy.” She motioned around her with the hand that wasn’t
currently covering her naked breasts. “This should give you some
idea. I don’t want to be a virgin when I wake up in the morning. I
was hoping you could help me with that.” Of course her desire had
shrunk along with his erection but she didn’t own her own
restaurant before she turned thirty by giving up. If he was
willing, she was still game.

He stood at the end of the bed, running his
hand through his hair and thinking so loud she could practically
hear it.

“Okay,” he finally said, but when she got to
her knees he put up his hand. “But not yet. You’ve had a fair bit
to drink. We both have,” he hurried to add before she could growl
at him. “If you still feel like this when we’re both sober, then
I’d be honored to be your first. That will give me enough to time
to make sure I don’t make a mess of things.”

He dragged his hand through his hair again,
looking so forlorn that if he hadn’t screwed up her night so badly,
she might have felt sorry for him. But he had and she didn’t.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower. You stay
here.”

She watched him walk away. Then she slipped
on his shirt and climbed under the covers, intending to catalogue
the reasons he should have sex with her. She fell asleep before she
heard the water start.

Trace dug the phone out of his back pocket
and glanced at the screen. Jude Southerland. What was Bailey’s big
brother doing calling him? He swiped a dirty finger across the
screen, anxious to make sure nothing had happened to Bailey. He
never should have let her walk off with the stupid writer. What if
they’d gotten into an accident?

“Hey Jude, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t find
Bailey.”

Trace had known Jude for almost as long as
he’d known Bailey. He’d never heard the doctor sound so tired or so
old.

“I saw her yesterday. Is something wrong?” He
held his breath waiting for the answer.

“Not with Bailey, at least I don’t think so.
Travis has been injured.”

Travis was Bailey’s older brother. He was
serving his third tour in Afghanistan and Trace knew Bailey worried
about him every day.

“How bad is it?”

“We don’t know yet. All we know is that he’s
going to Germany for treatment and then he’s coming home,” said
Jude. “I hate to bug you, but could you do me a favor?”

“Anything. Name it.”

“Could you find Bailey and bring her home for
me? Momma and Daddy need us to be together, at least until we find
out exactly what’s going on.”

“Of course.” But as he said the words, he
fought the urge to cringe. If Bailey was at her house, Jude would
have been able to get a hold of her. Even if her cell was dead, she
would have heard the phone in the restaurant. Which brought to mind
the question, where was she and who was she with? “Sorry, bad
connection,” he said when he realized he missed what Jude was
saying. “Could you repeat that?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please don’t
let her drive. I’m barely sane. I can’t stand the idea of her on
the road. Could you bring her yourself?”

Jude sounded worn thin. Trace could only
imagine the stress he was under. As the oldest sibling, Jude seemed
like the one who took care of everyone. Trace was an only child,
but he could imagine what it would be like to have a brother who
got hurt and not be able to do anything about it. It must be even
harder for Jude because he was a doctor.

“Absolutely. Don’t worry I’ll take care of
her. We’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, man,” said Jude, sounding tired but
grateful. “I trust you as much as the twins with her and she’s more
inclined to listen to you.”

Trace didn’t point out that given the way
things currently were between them, that probably wasn’t the case
anymore. He hung up and headed to the barn to find Jake before he
went off to get Bailey from the one place he’d prayed she wouldn’t
be.

He barely glanced at the empty parking lot at
Seasons. He’d known she wouldn’t be there, that she’d spent the
night with that guy. His hands clenched on the steering wheel as
his truck crested the hill and started past the resort and down the
hill to the Newport Cottage.

Even though he’d been expecting it, finding
Bailey’s car parked in front of Spencer’s place before eight in the
morning on her day off was a punch to the gut. He tried to remind
himself it was his fault. If he’d told her how he felt or even
taken her up on just one of her dinner invitations, she wouldn’t be
curled up in the writer’s bed right now.

On second thought, it was the fucking writers
fault. Everything went to hell when he showed up.

Trace pulled his truck in beside Bailey’s car
and got out, slamming the door harder than necessary. He took the
steps to the porch like a man on death row. He didn’t want to be
the one who told Bailey about Travis and he sure as hell didn’t
want to see her cozied up with the writer. Steeling himself for
what he’d find on the other side, he banged on the front door and
waited. When he didn’t hear noise inside, his heart rose just a
little.

Maybe she hadn’t spent the night there. Maybe
she’s just met him at the cottage for an early morning walk. Even
as he had the thought, he rejected it. If Bailey and the writer had
gone for a walk, she wouldn’t have driven to his place. He banged
again and this time he heard shuffling behind the door.

The curtain moved on the window beside the
door and the door finally opened, revealing a bleary eyed Spencer
wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pajama pants.

“Easy there, cowboy,” said the writer. “Can I
help you with something?”

Trace had never wanted to punch someone as
much as he wanted to smash his fist into Spencer’s face, but damned
if he’d let him know that – at least not yet.

“I need to see Bailey.”

“She’s still in bed. I guess I can get her to
call you when she wakes up.”

If he thought it wouldn’t make Bailey hate
him, he’d knock the smug look off of the writer’s face. But the
last thing she needed when she was dealing with her brother’s
injury was him making things harder. He loved her. He’d do whatever
it took to make the next forty eight hours easier on her even if
that meant being civilized to Spencer.

“It’s a family emergency. I need to see her
now.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, coming down the
stairs wearing a man’s white dress shirt and not much, if anything,
else. Barefoot and hair tousled with sleep and God knew what else,
she was so beautiful it stole his breath for a moment.

“Trace, what are you doing here?” She took a
closer look at him and put her hand to her chest. “What’s
happened?”

She pushed past Spencer to face him down, and
his heart broke for her.

“Put some clothes on and come out here so we
can talk.”

Bailey looked down, her face flushing when
she remembered what she was wearing, but she didn’t back up.

“No, tell me now. I need to know now. It’s
Travis isn’t it?”

He started to nod and saw the moment her
knees gave out. Moving past the writer, Trace caught her before she
could fall and pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay. He’s
going to be okay.” He murmured reassurances into her soft hair,
willing them to be true. Pressed against his chest, he could tell
she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he gave himself just a moment to
enjoy the feel of her soft curves against him. For a few seconds he
forgot about Spencer and Jude and all the things he needed to take
care and simply held her.

Now that he had Bailey Southerland in his
arms, Trace didn’t know how he was ever supposed to let her go
again.

“What happened? Where’s Travis?” Bailey
looked up at him with eyes wide with worry and fear, and Trace
kicked himself for being selfish. She was what mattered. She’d
always be what mattered to him.

“I don’t know much. Jude called me when he
couldn’t get a hold of you. Travis was injured. They’re taking him
to Germany to treat him and then he’s coming home. Hang on to that
part, baby. He’s coming home.”

Bailey nodded and managed the ghost of a
smile. “Okay. I’ve got to get to Mom and Daddy.” She pulled back
and he reluctantly let her go.

“Go get you’re things. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said,
crossing her arms over her chest as if she were suddenly aware of
how she was dressed.

“Yes I do. I promised Jude. Go, Bailey. I’ll
wait here.”

She nodded and turned, leaving him and
Spencer staring at each other.

“So Travis is one of her brothers,
right?”

Trace nodded but didn’t speak. He’d hold it
together for Bailey, but that didn’t mean he was going to stand on
the porch chatting with the guy who took her to bed. The thought
had him clenching his fist again and he forced himself to relax
before he accidentally punched the man.

“You know, nothing happened,” said
Spencer.

Trace simply glared at him.

“I mean it. Well some things happened, but we
didn’t...” Spencer paused like he was searching for a word that
wouldn’t get him pounded. “I mean we didn’t, you know. She’s
still…”

“Shut up,” Trace said, and the other man
swallowed whatever he’d been about to say.

Bailey hurried down the steps wearing a dress
and heels that did little more to hide her lush curves than the
shirt had.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Call me when you know how he is.” Spencer
caught her arm and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to the top of
her head.

Bailey looked up slightly dazed and nodded.
“Okay,” she said, starting out the door.

Trace inhaled, willing his temper to stay in
check for Bailey’s sake and then he put his hand possessively on
the small of her back and led her to his truck.

They rode the short distance to Seasons in
silence and Trace followed her up the stairs to her apartment,
afraid to leave her alone. Her eyes looked haunted and she seemed
fragile, so unlike the take charge woman he was used to.

He waited in her small living room while she
went to her bedroom to change and throw some things together. He
knew she was in a hurry to get on the road. When fifteen minutes
passed and he hadn’t heard a sound from her, he knocked softly on
the door to her room. She didn’t answer so he pushed her door open
slowly, taking enough time for her to say no if she didn’t want him
to come in.

She sat on the edge of her bed in a room
which looked like Bailey – feminine and flowery, but practical too
from her sturdy nightstand to the small farm table she used as a
desk. A big bunch of peonies still in the galvanized pot he’d
brought her graced her dresser. Seeing them there lifted his
spirits a bit. Until he saw Bailey’s face.

She held her cell phone and stared straight
ahead. Trace gently touched her shoulder, trying not to startle
her, and she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I listened to Jude’s message,” she said,
clutching the phone like it was a connection to her family. “I’ve
never heard my brother sound like that. He’s so worried.”

“It’ll be okay,” Trace said, praying it was
true.

“What if it’s not?”

He didn’t have an answer, so he did the only
thing he was sure of. He sat next to her and held her in his arms,
willing her to feel his love and take strength from him. She still
wore the dress she must have had on the night before and Trace
smelled the writer on her, smelled the unfamiliar cologne. His
stomach clenched at the thought of the other man touching her. God,
thinking of her with another man killed him, but not as much as the
haunted look she’d had in her eyes ever since she found out her
brother was hurt. He’d put his own shit aside for now so he could
take care of her.

And then, after they knew her brother was
okay, he’d fight for her because he couldn’t imagine his world
without Bailey in it.

“Come on, baby,” he said, reluctantly letting
her go. “Grab your stuff and I’ll take you home.”

Chapter 10

Bailey’s head had been buzzing since she saw
Trace standing at Spencer’s door. The only time she hadn’t noticed
the anxiety filled hum was when he held her and promised her
everything would be okay. He didn’t know it, no one did, but with
his arms around her she could at least imagine for a moment that it
might be true.