Chapter 11
Eleven
Baylor
I smile as I take one last look in the mirror, and instead of making sure my makeup—what very little I’m wearing—is even, my eyes go to the diamond horseshoe necklace that Macklin gave me for Christmas.
It’s been over a week now. Christmas has come and gone, but my sisters still smirk when they see me wearing it, which has been every day.
It’s too beautiful to leave in the jewelry box.
Besides, this is the first gift a man has ever given me that fits my personality.
I’m trying not to think too much about that, but it’s hard when I see the shining pendant every time I glance in the mirror.
Speaking of my sisters, they’re thrilled with Macklin’s interest in me. They say he’s a good guy, and that’s what I need in my life. They’re not wrong, but I think a big part of the push is that they want me to stay in Magnolia Ridge. That, and I know they want to see me happy.
As for me, I’m taking each day as it comes.
The idea of a life with Macklin is appealing.
I won’t lie. He is my childhood crush after all.
However, the worry still lingers. Worry that he’s going to change his mind, just like Todd did, or that I won’t be enough once he gets to know the adult version of me better.
Either way, I’m not pushing him away, but I’m not exactly holding him close either.
He asked for a chance, and I’m giving him that, slowly, cautiously, and Macklin hasn’t complained once.
Every day, he shows me his words aren’t empty. He’s a man of his word.
I know this. My heart knows this. Even in my head, I know, but fear can be brutal, and so can insecurities.
I’m trying to work past that, and he’s done exactly as he said he would.
He’s here. Not forcing himself into my life but blending into it.
It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s always on my mind, and I know that he’s going to be a part of my day, every day, in some way, shape, or form, and I’m okay with that.
Turning off my bedroom light, I make my way downstairs to find Copeland and Ellison on the couch. Courtlynn is sitting in the recliner, pulling on her boots, and Leighton is scrolling through her phone.
“Everyone ready?” Ellison asks, starting to stand, and Copeland rushes to stand, as well, offering her his hand.
“Ells, we can just stay home,” he tells her.
“Copeland James! It’s New Year’s Eve. We are not staying home.” She places her hand on her growing bump. “This little one will be here soon, and life is going to be busy, so nights like tonight will be few and far between.”
“What she said.” Courtlynn smirks as she turns her gaze to me. “Besides, you don’t want to miss the Macklin and Baylor show.”
“There will be no show,” I tell my little sister, rolling my eyes playfully.
“Do you think Bowen has popcorn at the Hideaway?” Ellison teases.
“Pretzels will do,” Leighton chimes in.
“Traitors. All of you are traitors.” I point at each of them.
“Hey,” Copeland says, offended. “What did I do?”
“Married her.” I nod at Ellison. “Guilty by association,” I tell him, and everyone laughs.
Courtlynn stands from the chair. “Let’s do this,” she says, and we all agree, grabbing our coats and making sure we have what we need before we climb into Leighton’s SUV.
We were all going to ride with Copeland and Ellison, but he’s already installed the car seat bases in both of their cars and refuses to remove them.
He wants to be prepared, and who are we to argue with the excited, yet nervous, first-time daddy?
We sing along to the radio for the short drive to the Hideaway.
The place is already packed, and even though it’s Sunday, it’s also New Year’s Eve, so the full parking lot isn’t a surprise for those who are staying close to home.
Bowen’s bar, the Hideaway, is the only bar in our small town, so this is always the place to go, no matter what the occasion.
We wait patiently for Ellison—well, Copeland to help Ellison out of his truck, before the five of us head inside. The live band is crooning “Sweet Home Alabama,” and it’s impossible not to want to groove to the beat.
Copeland leads the way, with his arm protectively around my sister’s waist, and we find our table already occupied by Kinzie, Ellison’s best friend, Dixon, Macklin, and Bowen.
“Don’t you have boss things to do?” Courtlynn asks Bowen as she drops down into a seat.
“Careful, squirt, you know I own this place, right? Which means I can kick you out,” Bowen threatens, raising his eyebrows at her.
Courtlynn doesn’t even blink. She leans back in her chair like she’s settling in for a long stay, crossing her arms over her chest. “Please. You’d miss me too much. Who else is going to keep your ego from inflating past fire code limits?”
Bowen scoffs, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “My ego was doing just fine before you started haunting my establishment.”
“Haunting?” she repeats, feigning offense. “That’s rude. I prefer ‘highlight of your week.’”
“Highlight?” He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping just enough to feel deliberate. “You mean the part where I debate banning you every time you walk in?”
“And yet,” she shoots back, tilting her head, eyes sparkling with challenge, “you never do.”
“That’s called restraint. And besides, I like the rest of them.” He waves his hand toward the rest of the table.
“That’s called weakness.”
Bowen lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to your host like that.” He’s grinning, which tells me he’s enjoying this little sparring session between the two of them. It’s always like this with the two of them.
“They should just heat up the sheets and get it over with,” I mutter, and Leighton giggles from her spot next to me.
Oops, didn’t mean for her to hear that.
“And you’ve got a lot of nerve thinking you intimidate me,” Courtlynn says sweetly, tapping her fingers on the table in rhythm with the music starting to pulse through the room. “If anything, I think you like it.”
“Like what?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.
“This,” she says simply, gesturing between them. “The back-and-forth. The fact that I don’t fall all over myself just because you own a bar and brood attractively in corners.”
Dixon snorts into his drink. Macklin mutters, “She’s not wrong,” under his breath.
Bowen shoots them both a look before returning his attention to Courtlynn, eyes narrowing in mock irritation. “Brood attractively?”
She shrugs. “It’s a skill. I’ll give you that.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Bowen shakes his head as if he’s over my sister, but something tells me that’s not the case. He engages with her. Every. Single. Time.
“And you’re predictable,” she fires back. “I walk in, you pretend you’re annoyed, and then you spend the next hour hovering within ten feet of me.”
“I do not hover.”
“You absolutely hover.”
“I supervise my employees. I make sure my guests are happy. I’m doing my damn job, Courtlynn.”
“Mm,” she hums, unconvinced. “Keep telling yourself that.”
For a second, they just look at each other, neither willing to give an inch. The music swells, bass thumping through the floor, and Courtlynn’s lips curve into something softer, more playful.
“Relax, Bowen. I’m not here for you. Just ignore me, and this night will be more enjoyable. If you’re lucky, I might even stay out of trouble tonight.”
By trouble, she means not dancing on the bar. I’ve been on the end of those phone calls, where Bowen tosses her over his shoulder and either takes her home or deposits her in someone else’s car to do it.
One of these days, they’re going to figure it out. For the rest of us, I hope it’s soon. Although it is free entertainment.
Bowen arches a brow. “You? Stay out of trouble?”
She flashes him a grin. “No promises.”
“Yeah.” He leans back in his chair, eyes still locked on hers. “You’re not capable,” he mutters.
“Now, children,” Ellison speaks up, resting her hands on her belly. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Put this”—she waves her hands in the air at them—“whatever this is, behind you. New Year, new outlook.”
“New family,” Copeland says, leaning down to kiss her softly, his hand resting over hers where my niece is growing.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Macklin, standing behind me. I didn’t even notice him get up. He leans in close, placing his lips next to my ear. “What do you want to drink?”
“I can get it.”
“I know you can, Bay, but let me.”
“Just a beer is fine. I don’t plan on drinking much tonight.”
He nods, then hesitates. He’s so close I could lean in just a little and kiss him, but I refrain. Finally, he stands but keeps his hands on my shoulders. “Anyone need anything?” he asks the table.
“I’ll go with you,” Courtlynn says.
“Watch it, brat. I had to cut you off last year,” Bowen reminds her.
Living up to the name, Courtlynn sticks her tongue out at him and walks away from our table.
“I’ll go with her,” Leighton says, standing. “Kelly and Lorna are on their way, too,” she explains. Kelly is her best friend, and Lorna is Courtlynn’s.
“Where’s Sophia tonight?” Kinzie asks me, sipping her cocktail.
“Her brother and his wife just had a baby, so she’s spending the week in Cincinnati, visiting with them and helping them out. Her parents went, too.”
“That’s sweet of her,” Ellison says.
“Don’t you worry, Ellie. That baby is going to be spoiled rotten living with all of us.”
“I might have to move in, too,” Kinzie teases.
Dixon starts cracking up laughing, and we all turn to look at him. “Cope’s got the spoiling down all on his own,” he says.
“He’s going to be the girl dad at cheer practice, doing the cheers with them from the stands,” Bowen teases as Macklin sets my beer in front of me and takes the seat Courtlynn was in next to me, which is good. That puts her at the opposite end of the table from Bowen when they get back.
“Thank you.” I turn toward Macklin.