15. Bailey
Bailey
Iwoke to sunlight filtering through my curtains and a headache that didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should. I must have hydrated more than I thought. I rolled over, looking for my phone, and noticed a glass of water, two pills, and a sticky note hanging off the side of my table.
Come find me when you wake up, peaches.
Noah
Taking care of me even from afar. Our conversation danced in my mind, dipping when I shared my feelings and twirling when he asked to take care of me.
I squealed into my pillow, kicking my legs between the sheets.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something to brace myself against.
My phone vibrated, an incoming call from my mother. Fuck me. There went my jolly mood. I debated sending her to voicemail but knew her impending wrath wouldn’t be worth it. I plastered a smile on my face.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Bailey.” Her tone was as crisp as ever. “How are you?”
Always so formal. “I’m great, just getting my day started, actually.”
“At this hour?” she asked. “I assumed you’d be using the weekend to get ahead.”
I stared at the ceiling. “I’m handling things.”
“Hm.” A pause. “Did you read my email?”
I had intentionally buried it beneath promotional newsletters and spam, where it would hopefully never see the light of day again.
“I must have missed it in the chaos of starting the new job. Give me the SparkNotes?”
She sighed—the classic sound associated with the crippling pressure of being a disappointing daughter.
“I figured as much.” Her voice stayed perfectly even, which somehow made it worse. “Your father and I were disappointed by how abruptly you left. It wasn’t particularly professional.”
Guilt twisted low in my stomach. “I gave notice.”
“Two weeks is hardly generous when family is involved.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “The new job was time-sensitive.”
“And this position is stable?” she asked immediately. “Benefits? Long-term potential?”
“It’s going well so far.”
“So far,” she repeated. “Well, if it falls through, your father still has space for you here. He mentions it constantly to the partners. He already had a plaque made for your office.”
“How…nice of him,” I choked out. My mother’s lack of faith was a stark contrast to the blinding trust Noah had in me; two polar opposites occupying space in my life.
“Any other updates for me?” she asked.
I’m falling for my hot, older boss who has an ass like a baseball player and a heart of gold.
“Nope! I’m, uh, doing really well here, Mom. We had a festival yesterday that I planned and an upcoming summer wedding to put on…I feel really confident about getting my contract extended,” I said.
The silence that followed stretched too long to be comfortable. My mother had always been talented at that—letting silence do the work for her.
“Hm. I suppose time will tell. Keep me updated, and I’ll send your father your love. We will chat soon. Goodbye, Bailey.”
She hung up before I could respond, and I took my first breath in minutes. Every conversation with my mother left me feeling twelve years old again, scrambling for approval I was never quite able to earn.
I tried to convince myself that the conversation we just had was normal, that all moms and daughters conversed in that manner.
But I was struggling to lie to myself more and more these days.
The old heaviness threatened to settle in my chest, familiar and suffocating.
My fingers stayed curled a second too long around my phone before I forced them to loosen.
My jaw tightened without permission, like my body was holding onto the conversation even if I wasn’t.
I really needed to get my therapist back on the books. Having an anxiety attack after a phone call with my mother couldn’t be normal. I took a couple of deep breaths, bringing my heart rate down, and reminding myself that I didn’t have to tie my self-worth up in my family’s opinion of me.
I glanced toward Noah’s sticky note and felt some of the tension ease its way out of my chest. I spotted his handwriting, chicken scratch, really, and a spark flickered inside me as I got dressed to meet him.
I headed downstairs, not bothering with my hair or makeup because that would have slowed how soon I could see him, and I peeked into the lobby, noticing how quiet it was for a Sunday morning.
I tiptoed my way to Noah’s office, and one quiet knock later, I was surrounded by cedar and spice, looking at the main character of all my fantasies. I suddenly felt shy and unsure, remembering how vulnerable I was with him last night, how unguarded.
He sat at his desk, wearing a casual polo and jeans, and a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Morning, peaches. How are you feeling after last night?” he teased.
“A lot better, thanks to the painkiller fairy who visited my room,” I replied with a smirk.
“Make sure to tip them next time. It’s hard work keeping the people of Bexley hangover-free.”
I rolled my eyes, itching to move closer but waiting on him to make a move. I bared myself last night. It was time for him to take the lead today. He pushed his chair back, spreading his legs and patting the denim that stretched deliciously across his thighs.
“Come sit down, Bailey.”
My feet moved subconsciously, aching to be closer to him—physically and emotionally. I perched on the edge of his knee, trying my best to appear dainty and ladylike.
Wrong decision.
“I said sit down, Bailey.” He tugged my hips back, my ass making contact with the crease of his thighs, until I was fully settled on his lap, his arm winding around my waist and securely squeezing me into him.
“Much better. Do you remember our conversation from last night?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Do you remember what you asked me before you went to bed?”
I slowly nodded again. He tilted my chin up, rubbing his thumb across my cheek and looking utterly in awe of me.
“Bailey Collins, will you give me the immense pleasure of taking you out on a date this Friday evening?”
For a split second, everything in me went still. A date. A real, deliberate date.
Warmth bloomed low in my chest, and then my lack of patience reared its ugly head before I could even properly appreciate the question.
“Friday? But that’s nearly an entire week away,” I retorted.
“Maybe I want to build some anticipation,” he teased, gently tugging one of my curls between his fingers. “Maybe I want you thinking about us all week. Thinking about me.”
He lifted my legs over his other knee, sliding his hand into my curls and angling my face toward his.
His lips gently ghosted over mine as he said, “Thinking about how much I admire that big brain of yours. How pretty your wild curls are. How it’ll feel to have your soft lips under mine for the first time in weeks. ”
I gasped at his words. I knew he was a smooth talker, but he could charm my freaking pants off at this rate.
“Hence why our date is on Friday. I’ve got an important girl to impress and a big date to plan,” he said.
I had a momentary second of clarity. “Nothing too obvious,” I murmured. “I’m not trying to be on the front page of the town newspaper.”
“Silly girl, the town newspaper went out of business years ago. It’s all digital now.”
I pinched the side of his bicep, rolling my eyes at his joke.
“It’ll be discreet, I promise. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, anyway.”
I didn’t want to share him either, and I remembered that he still had a slightly ambiguous relationship with Tessa.
My back stiffened, reminding me that we weren’t exclusive and people could date whoever they wanted.
Noah could date whoever he wanted—even Tessa.
My friend and nemesis, all wrapped up in one.
“Right. Of course. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression or anything, either. Boss. Employee,” I laughed awkwardly.
“Any foods you absolutely refuse to eat?” he asked.
“Um, chocolate or anything heavily smothered in cheese.”
“Oddly specific and unexpected but noted. No queso for you.”
And just like that, the mood was lightened, and I was reminded why Noah was knocking down every defense I had ever built.
This week had been torture; like it was Noah’s personal mission to tease the hell out of me without any sort of follow-through. A weeklong edging, some would call it.
On Monday morning, a coffee with a heart drawn on the side sat on my desk, perfectly made—vanilla creamer with a splash of coffee.
On Wednesday, we were the last two people to leave a staff meeting, and his fingers grazed all the way from the top of my neck to my lower back, causing shivers to run down my spine and a much-needed session with my vibrator that evening.
But Thursday—oh, Thursday took the cake.
I was up early to take a hot yoga class at Bexley Bend he hasn’t gone on a date in a long time.”
Grant followed us outside, a pep in his step as a gleaming black truck rolled up to the curb.
“Fifteen bucks has your name on it if you can convince Noah to give me next weekend off,” he said, passing me by.
“Wow, a whopping fifteen dollars? Whatever will I do with that bucket of wealth?” I joked.
Noah hopped out of his truck and looked every bit like the Southern version of Superman. Black jeans hugged his thighs, a gray Henley tight over his biceps, and expertly windblown hair that would have taken me hours to achieve. He hustled over and kissed my hand before waving his brothers away.
“Keep the inn running, text me for emergencies only, and for the love of God, if a bachelorette party shows up, do not give them free shots.”
He shot Grant a look, who innocently shrugged and mimed zipping his lips.
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he said.
He opened my door and lifted me up by the hips into the large truck like I weighed nothing—which I knew wasn’t true, but dang, it felt good to be tossed around by him.
He pulled out of the inn, one hand on the steering wheel, the other possessively gripping my thigh, and heat shot through me at his touch. I kept my squeal in my head this time.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he noted while driving us farther away from the center of town.
“What if I don’t like surprises?”
He leveled me with a heated glance. “What if tonight ends up being the best surprise of your life?”