7. Bailey
Bailey
In my experience, the middle of the workweek was supposed to be boring, painfully dull, and yawn-inducing.
Nobody cared about Tuesday through Thursday, and nothing that made your heart flutter was supposed to happen on throwaway days.
That was the universally agreed-upon workweek rule, and I was nothing if not an avid rule follower.
I came down for an early breakfast, fully intending to be productive and forget the chaos of Monday, when I saw Noah already sitting at the bar.
He wore a crisp blue button-down that unfairly made his eyes pop and exposed his forearms in a way that should have been illegal.
There was not a chance in hell that I was sitting next to him looking like that and not jumping his bones.
I’d rather save my sanity and starve until lunch.
I pivoted so fast I nearly twisted my ankle, grabbing the back of a chair to steady myself and pretending, very convincingly, that I always intended to…inspect the seating arrangement in here.
Strike one, Bailey.
Totally normal and completely natural, I casually redirected, aiming for the guest services desk like my life depended on it, which, at this point, it kind of did. Eli was already set up behind the counter when I approached. I wasn’t a guest, but I certainly needed a service.
“Hi, Eli.” I slid up to the desk and rested my forearms on top.
He looked up, then glanced past me toward the dining area, then back at me, then past me again.
It was a slow, deliberate double-take. The kind that suggested he was piecing something together in real time and very much enjoying it.
“Morning, Bailey,” he said, drawing my name out just slightly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“So nice of you to ask. Where would you suggest for breakfast?”
His gaze flicked over my shoulder again, less subtle this time.
“Is there something wrong with the breakfast we make?” he asked.
“Nope. I just, uh, wanted to get acquainted with the town and try all the local spots in case a client ever asked for a recommendation,” I replied.
Eli didn’t respond right away. He just looked at me, then over my shoulder, and the silence stretched just long enough to become deeply uncomfortable.
“Ah,” he said finally, like he had reached a very obvious conclusion. “Noah’s in there.”
“Oh, really?” I said, with all the subtlety of a brick. “That’s funny, I hadn’t even noticed him. Can’t believe we both wanted breakfast at the same time…”
Eli leveled me with a stare so flat it could have been weaponized.
“Okay,” I said quickly, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I saw him in there, and yes, I am trying to actively avoid him, and no, that doesn’t make me juvenile.”
Eli raised his hands in mock defense, but his expression didn’t change. “You said it, not me.”
“Well, I need a bagel smothered in cream cheese and butter ASAP, so can you help me or not?” I asked, my blush creeping up my cheeks.
“Butter and cream cheese?” he repeated slowly, like that was the most concerning part of this entire interaction.
“Ugh! I’ll find it myself.” I stalked out of the inn, and even though my Tuesday had gotten off to a rocky start, I was sure the rest of the week would get better.
The rest of the week did not, in fact, get better.
On Wednesday, I was so distracted trying to avoid Noah that I walked directly into him in the employee parking lot, and it wasn’t a mere graze or a casual bump. I full-on collided with him like I had zero concept of spatial awareness or self-preservation.
One second, I was walking toward the inn, mentally rehearsing my very normal, very professional day. Next, I was hitting a solid wall of warm muscle and crisp cotton.
“No—” I started, too late.
His hands shot out immediately, catching me before I could completely eat pavement.
One arm locked around my waist, the other braced at my side, steadying me like I weighed nothing more than a misplaced stack of towels.
I think I would have preferred to get intimate with the rough gravel, because now I was being held by Noah and was acutely aware of every spot on my body that touched his.
“Whoa,” he said, his voice low and effortlessly sexy, like he didn’t even have to try. God, he should narrate audiobooks with a voice like that.
I blinked up at him and regretted my decision immediately. Up close, it was worse. Way worse. His eyes were sharp in the way that made it feel like he noticed everything, and his expression had that half-concerned, half-amused thing going on that suggested he thought I was mildly unhinged.
“I—sorry,” I blurted, immediately attempting to step back.
Except his hand stayed at my waist for half a second too long, steadying me like my body couldn’t be trusted to remember how gravity worked.
“It’s fine, Bailey,” he said, finally letting me go slowly, like he was making a point about not rushing it.
I tried not to read too much into that.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said immediately.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I mean—yes. Obviously. I just wasn’t looking where I was going. Silly me,” I muttered.
“Clearly,” he said, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “I’ve been a little distracted.”
“Uh-huh.”
The way he said it made it sound like he knew exactly why. Which he absolutely did not.
“I’ve been a little distracted, too,” he said, his hand opening and closing like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to touch me again.
“I should go,” I said quickly, because standing there felt like a terrible idea I was actively choosing.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
I started walking again, slower this time, as if the ground might personally betray me if I rushed it.
Behind me, I heard him exhale, something almost like a laugh. It was soft and warm, and if I could play it on a loop without being creepy, I would.
Shit. Strike two.
By Thursday, I operated at a level of caution that could only be described as emotional self-preservation. I avoided parking lots, hallways, eye contact longer than two seconds, and anything that could result in accidental proximity to my boss.
Naturally, the universe gave me a middle finger and responded by putting Noah at the front desk with me for an entire shift. Our front desk assistant called out sick, which meant the remaining staff rotated coverage.
I looked around for anyone to trade places with me—I’d pick a random woman off the street at this point—but neither Eli nor Grant was anywhere to be found. Which was fine. I was a professional, and this counter had plenty of space for both of us.
At first, it was manageable. He was on one side of the desk, organizing keys, and I was on the other end, handling check-ins. I tried to ignore how right it felt to work beside him as a team when it started.
“Pen?” he asked, holding one out without looking at me.
“I have one,” I said, already reaching for the ballpoint in front of me.
Our fingers brushed, and I was instantly transported back to our night at the bar—the way his hand felt in mine, the way he couldn’t stand to be more than a few inches away from me.
Five minutes later, it happened again—this time with a notepad, then a room key, and a stapler—and at some point, I wondered when office supplies turned into a form of foreplay.
And then came the grand finale.
Noah moved behind me to grab a fresh set of keys from the back board, and I instinctively shifted to give him room.
But he didn’t just pass behind me, that would have been too kind.
Instead, his hand brushed my lower back, light and barely there, but I knew it wasn’t accidental.
Behind me, he acted like nothing happened, grabbing a new set of keys before returning to his post next to me at the desk.
Sneaky, my ass.
I forced myself to breathe again, staring very intently at the check-in screen like it held the secrets of the universe and not the fact that I was one poorly timed touch away from combusting.
“Everything okay?” he asked after a beat.
“Freaking peachy, boss,” I said, unfairly throwing out that title to remind myself, and him, where we were.
Strike three, and I was out.