8. Noah
Noah
Aweek should’ve been enough time and distance to get my head on straight. It wasn’t.
The festival planning was moving forward, and the inn was booked solid, which should have pleased me.
Except Bailey Collins was running around my head—and my inn—rent-free.
If I wasn’t thinking about her, I was physically running into her in every corner of this place, and it was driving me out of my fucking mind.
She consumed my thoughts in a very not professional manner.
Despite how busy I’d kept myself this week, no amount of productivity had done a damn thing to quiet how I thought about her every single day.
The way she charmed every member of the staff.
The way she gave shit right back to Grant.
The way she avoided being within three feet of me at any given moment.
If anything, my attraction to her had only increased over the past week, judging by the number of cold showers I’d taken.
She’d reduced me to a horny sixteen-year-old who’d just discovered he had a refractory period of approximately five minutes.
It was late Friday evening, and I was still approving payroll hours for the past week.
The thought of getting in my car and driving all the way home when I could just crash at the inn sounded more appealing by the minute.
There was a room under renovation—not suitable for guests, but perfectly suitable for a sleep-deprived, grumpy boss.
My mind wandered to room twelve, Bailey’s room, and I wondered if she was already asleep for the night.
Was she a night owl? Or did she prefer to wake up with the sun?
I shook my head and slammed my laptop shut, the action jarring enough to disrupt my thoughts from thinking any further about my newest employee.
I meandered toward the room, feeling like this week had aged me ten-plus years, and relished, if only for a moment, falling onto cool, crisp sheets and sleeping this chaotic week away.
A sharp, shrill alarm ripped me from my sleep, the WEE-OOH stabbing through the air and sending my heart into a full sprint—the fire alarm. I felt like I’d only closed my eyes for a minute before I was forcibly being woken up against my will.
I shoved my feet into my shoes, ignoring the rumpled chaos of my appearance, and bolted into the hall, corralling groggy guests toward the exits.
I snatched the guest list from behind the front desk and did a quick glance over the lobby area before darting outside.
I shouted guest names, needing to account for everyone in the building.
“Isbells!” I shouted.
“Here!” the mom called back, bouncing a baby while her husband wrestled their screaming toddler.
I ticked through the rest of the list—the Phelps, the Lees…Then my heart slammed into my ribs.
Bailey. Where the fuck was Bailey?
I spun, heart hammering, scanning the crowd. No wild curls. No familiar face. Sirens wailed in the distance, but I was already sprinting back inside.
Smoke or not, I didn’t care, and I barreled back into the lobby. “Bailey! Bailey, can you hear me?”
Every possible worst-case scenario hit me at once.
A crash rang out from behind the desk. Her curls whipped into view first, and her panicked face followed after. An emotion hit me, sharp and terrifying: I’d walk through fire any day for her.
“I didn’t back up the festival files yet!” she yelled. “I couldn’t risk losing my work!”
The alarm screamed in my ears, relentless and punishing—this infuriating, irresistible woman. Two long strides and I hoisted her over my shoulder, briskly walking toward the exit.
“Noah! Put me down!” she shouted. “I can walk!”
“Apparently not,” I roared. “When a fire alarm blares, you get out! Not dig through the file cabinet. We don’t know the danger, and you could’ve been hurt. Killed!”
Over something she valued more than herself.
I placed her on the lawn, quickly running my hands down her arms to remind myself that she was alright. Her breath caught, shame flickering across her face, and suddenly, my mouth betrayed my brain.
“What the hell are you wearing?” I ground out, teeth clenched.
Pink lace. Matching set. If I weren’t so angry, I might’ve dropped to my knees and started worshipping her.
Thin straps hugged her delicate shoulders; lace-lined cups framed the swell of her breasts. Her nipples protruded firmly, no doubt due to the cool night breeze, and the ass peeking out of her shorts made me want to do absolutely unspeakable things.
“What am I wearing?” she shot back, arms crossing. “What about you?!”
Then it hit me that I was wearing flannel pajama pants and nothing else.
Her eyes slowly tracked up my legs, lingering over my abdomen, and finally back to my face. She was breathing hard—from adrenaline, attraction, or both—and for a moment, everything and everyone faded away.
I had never felt panic before the way I did when I couldn’t find Bailey.
If that wasn’t enough to convince me that I had developed more than a crush on her, I don’t know what would.
I rolled my jaw, committing her appearance to memory one more time before the fire chief stepped into view, breaking the moment.
“This discussion isn’t over, Bailey.”
I tuned into the fire chief’s updates, and thankfully, the inn was fine.
A guest had ignored the no-smoking signs posted all over the walls, triggering the alarms. I’d deal with him in the morning once my brain was fully functioning again.
The remaining staff who rotated overnight shifts gently guided guests back inside, everyone sleepy and bleary-eyed, given the 2:00 a.m. chaos.
I tugged on Bailey’s elbow, gently guiding her inside, and continued up the main flight of stairs.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Better question, what were you doing here overnight?”
“Can’t a man stay in his own inn?” I grumbled. “I’m walking you back to your room, peaches. It’s the least you can afford me after giving me a heart attack earlier.”
“I wasn’t trying to scare anyone,” she huffed, though her voice sounded smaller now. “But I’ve been working my ass off to make sure this festival is successful, and I couldn’t risk letting it fail.”
Her unspoken words echoed between us. I couldn’t risk failing. And I couldn’t risk losing her. For someone who had been in my life for such a short period of time, she sure took up a lot of space in my head.
We ended up in front of her door, and I pressed my luck further, needing her to know that her safety was a priority to me—she was a priority to me. I wedged Bailey firmly between the door and myself. Her breath hitched, and I got a perfect peek down the front of her top.
“Let’s get one thing clear. I don’t give a fuck about the festival if it means you risk your safety in any capacity. Understand, sweetheart?”
She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth, her teeth pressing into the pink skin, slowly nodding. I placed my hand above her head, caging her in, narrowing the world around us to just her and me.
I tilted her chin up, and her honey-brown eyes looked back at me, confusion and emotion swimming in them. I knew I was toeing a dangerous line, but the words were already there, heavy on my tongue, charged with everything I’d been holding back.
“Say yes, sir, Bailey.” Her chest rose rapidly, the tension between us nearly palpable, before she responded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” I murmured, my thumb brushing once along her jaw. If I hadn’t paid such close attention to her mannerisms, I almost would have missed the gentle sigh of relief that escaped her after I called her a good girl. Almost.
I reached around her to open her door, gently pushing her inside. “I’ll see you on Monday, peaches.”