21. Noah
Noah
Bailey crashed the moment her head hit the pillow, the events of the evening catching up with her.
Her chocolate curls spilled across the sheets, my worn Bexley Grove Community College T-shirt sliding off her shoulder.
I’d never seen a better sight—never felt more at peace in my own home.
Honestly, it was a good thing the altercation with Liam happened in a public space; otherwise, I think I would have killed him. Or at least seriously maimed him.
Maybe if I’d packed up earlier, sent one less email, I could’ve gotten to her sooner, saved her sooner.
I should’ve clocked Liam weeks ago, when he came onto her after the festival.
The look of fear on her face would haunt me for weeks, and the mere thought of her experiencing any sort of discomfort made my protective instincts flare.
Not to mention that piece of shit, Caleb. Treating Bailey like that? Fumbling someone who was so rare? Idiot.
Fuck, I needed to text my brothers and tell them what happened, if only to make sure Liam didn’t show his face back at the inn.
Noah: Something happened at the inn tonight. Liam cornered and attacked Bailey drunk off his ass.
Grant: What the FUCK? I’m assuming you kicked his scrawny-looking ass?
Eli: Is Bailey okay? Was she hurt?
Grant: I know where he lives. I’m heading over now.
Grant: Do you think I should bring a bat or a tire iron?
Noah: Slow your roll, vigilante. He should be limping around his place with a broken nose, bruised ribs, and a STRICT warning not to set foot in the inn. If you see him within fifty feet of the front doors, call me and then the cops.
Noah: Bailey is shaken but physically fine.
Eli: Why not the cops first?
Noah: Because if I see him again, I won’t be doing anything legal.
Grant: …I have a whole new level of respect for you, big bro.
Noah:
Noah: I’ll see y’all on Sunday for family dinner. BEHAVE YOURSELVES.
Grant: You wound me.
I set my phone down and curled up next to Bailey.
When you thought that your whole world was about to be taken from you, quiet moments like this hit a lot harder.
I wrapped my arm around her, reminding myself that she was safe in my home before drifting off to sleep—I had a big day planned for tomorrow.
“Where are we going?” Bailey asked.
I hummed. “Patience isn’t a virtue of yours, is it?”
She glared at me from the passenger seat.
“You look adorable when you pout,” I said.
“I can’t win,” she huffed.
After last night, I wanted to take Bailey out on a date that was all about her.
I wanted her to feel as comfortable and supported as possible before family dinner tomorrow, and selfishly, I wanted a day with her all to myself.
I also couldn’t take any of the credit; Ma was actually the mastermind behind today’s plans.
I pulled into a parking spot, already anticipating her reaction.
“This is a bookstore,” she said.
“Astute observation, peaches.”
“Smart-ass,” she muttered. “What does the acronym stand for? Books and Beer? Ooo, imagine a bookstore with a bar inside…”
“It stands for Blushing Books.”
“Blushing Books? What does that even—” She cut herself off, slowly turning to face me with an absolutely unhinged look on her face.
“No, you didn’t. This cannot be what I think it is. A romance-only bookstore? A romance-only bookstore in Bexley?!” she exclaimed.
She jumped out of the car before I could even confirm she was right, poking her head back through the window to chirp, “You are so getting laid tonight.”
Christ. I’d buy her the whole damn store if she looked at me like that again. I started running through long-division problems in my head before I embarrassed myself with a boner in public. I followed her in, and Bailey was already perched by the checkout counter, talking to the owners.
“These stores have been popping up all over the country, but I didn’t think there would be one here,” Bailey exclaimed.
The second we stepped inside, the scent of new books and vanilla wrapped around us, soft music humming faintly through the space. Shelves packed with colorful spines stretched in every direction, broken up by cozy armchairs and little handwritten recommendation cards.
“Well, I see you’ve already met Lillian and Julie,” I said with a playful side-eye to the bookstore duo. “They run B&B and host monthly book clubs at the inn.” I turned toward the two women. “This is Bailey. She runs event planning for me and also has a deep obsession with romance novels.”
Bailey raised her hand. “Guilty as charged,” she said sheepishly.
“No guilt allowed in here,” Julie declared proudly. “We wouldn’t have opened this bookstore if we weren’t immensely proud and dedicated to the romance space.”
“I’d love to talk to you about hosting local book signings or even book cover bedazzling. The girls love that sort of thing,” Bailey said.
She continued firing off a thousand ideas a minute, and all I could do was stand back and admire her.
She made everyone around her feel important, like the words coming out of their mouths were sacred and valuable.
I was sure I could have left her here for hours, and she wouldn’t run out of things to say, but we did have a schedule to stick to.
I placed my hands on her shoulders and attempted to steer her further into the store, all while she craned her neck back and said, “Oh! What about midnight release parties for popular new books?”
Lillian smiled and silently mouthed to me, “I like her.”
We reached the center of the store, and I leaned in close to her ear. “Okay, peaches. You’ve got five minutes,” I said.
She furrowed her brows. “Five minutes? I won’t even make it past the slow-burn shelf in that amount of time,” she protested.
“Five minutes to grab as many books as you want and place them on the checkout counter. My gift to you.”
She stared up at me. “You’re going to buy me books? As many books as I want?”
“That’s correct.”
“What if I get fifty up there in five minutes?”
“I’d be disappointed if there were any less.”
“So I can just…have whatever I want?” she asked, the tiniest glimmer of excitement building on her face.
I cupped her cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, baby. You can have whatever you want.”
I looked down at my watch, taking note of the time. “Your time starts now,” I said.
She took off, darting around the room and haphazardly glancing at back covers before adding the books to her pile.
I watched, amused, as she struggled to decide between two books before ultimately picking them both.
I made my way back to the front of the store, where Lillian and Julie both had devious grins on their faces.
“Just your event planner, huh?” Julie asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boss go so far out of his way for one of his employees.”
I rolled my eyes, a grin in place. “What can I say? I’m an excellent boss.”
I glanced down at my watch and signaled to Bailey that she had one minute left.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered, the look of stress on her face hilarious given the low-stakes circumstances.
A minute later, I sauntered back over to her, placing my hand on top of her stack. “Time’s up, peaches,” I said.
She let out a sigh of exhaustion, as if she had just run a marathon instead of darting around a bookstore. According to Bailey, she snagged three enemies-to-lovers, four brothers’ best friends, two slow burns, and an entire dark cowboy series—whatever that meant.
I nodded to Lillian as I grabbed Bailey’s stack of books, listening to the two women gush over next month’s book club pick.
“Monster smut? Sign me the hell up,” Bailey exclaimed.
I chose not to follow up and ask her exactly what that was.
I pulled Bailey out of the store as she shouted a promise to be back soon and to bring reinforcements next time.
We got back in the car, prepping to head to our next surprise, when Bailey abruptly leaned over the center console, pressing her lips against mine. My surprise must have been brief because my hands were threading into her hair, and I was kissing her back immediately.
Who the fuck decided cars needed middle consoles? I couldn’t get close enough to her. I raked my hands down her back and tugged her closer. I nipped at her bottom lip before she briefly pulled away.
“You see me,” she said quietly.
“Every damn inch, peaches.” I pecked her once more before plugging in the address of our next location. We pulled out of the parking lot, Bailey distracted by all of her new book titles, before she glanced at the GPS.
“A vineyard?” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. “This might be the best date I’ve ever been on. Hands down better than the guy who asked me if I was interested in disc golf.”
I shot her a look. There would be no more disc golf dates, not if I had anything to say about it.
“It’s called ‘The Grove,’ and I thought we could split a bottle of wine while you read to me out of one of your new books,” I said.
“You’re interested in the plot of my books?” she asked.
“I’m interested in you, Bailey, and everything that comes with you. Monster smut included.”
“Oh,” she mouthed.
The vineyard was a favorite for both locals and tourists alike, our own taste of Napa in Tennessee.
Late-afternoon sunlight spilled over the rolling hills, casting everything in a warm golden glow.
Rows of grapevines stretched endlessly behind scattered wooden picnic tables, and a soft breeze carried the faint scent of earth and ripening fruit.
A small folk band set itself up at the base of the hill, and their music drifted lazily through the air.
Bailey looked around in awe, clearly in her element, my little wine lover.
“I didn’t even know this was out here,” she muttered. “And I love wine.”
“Big city girl didn’t know what she was missing, did she?” I teased.
She looked up at me, her eyes suddenly serious and sure.
“No. No, I didn’t.”
Two hours later, we were a bottle of Pinot Grigio deep, and Bailey had read me three chapters of our new book and explained, in painstaking detail, what a “bookstagram” account was.
Her cheeks were flushed, her hair only maintaining a semblance of control thanks to the sunglasses perched on her head, and she had never looked more adorable.
This was the version of Bailey I wanted to see for the rest of my life.
Not stressed over parents who couldn’t give two shits, not shrinking for weak men, just happy and free.
I tapped her cheek lightly. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and get you some more water.”
“I’ll miss you,” she sighed, her openness no doubt influenced by her slight buzz.
My sweet, precious girl.
“I’ll miss you too. I’ll be right back. Pull up some more accounts for me to look at.”
I used the bathroom, then grabbed two bottles of water from the pavilion before heading back. I rounded the corner and immediately noticed Bailey wasn’t alone. A cocky-looking fake cowboy had saddled up next to her, clearly vying for her attention.
She subtly turned her head over her shoulder, scanning the crowd—looking for me—and my chest puffed up at the thought. I made my way back to her just in time to hear the tail end of their conversation.
“…live in Nashville. You should visit sometime. I could show you around,” he said.
Bailey rolled her eyes and plastered on a fake but polite smile. “I’m from Nashville. Doubtful you could show me anything I haven’t already seen.”
“Well, what about a drink? Another bottle of wine?” he asked.
She blew out a breath, her spine straightening and chin lifting as she said, “I’m with someone, and he’s going to be quite irritated to see you over here bothering me.”
I set the water bottles down beside her, standing just behind her back, close enough that my knee brushed the edge of the bench.
“She’s right about that. Right about most things, but definitely about me being irritated,” I said.
Bailey’s head snapped toward me, relief flickering across her face before something warmer replaced it. I placed my hand on her shoulder, briefly bending to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hi, baby.”
The guy straightened, his eyes dragging over my clearly possessive touch on Bailey.
“Didn’t realize you were with someone,” he grunted.
“Now you do,” I said.
Bailey tipped her chin up at me, a tiny spark in her eyes that always undid me.
“You took forever.”
My mouth curved. “Miss me?”
“Maybe,” she said.
The guy muttered something about no harm meant and walked off, but I barely registered it, too focused on the way Bailey’s fingers curled into my shirt, gripping the fabric like she needed the anchor.
I squatted down in front of her, resting my hands on her knees.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She slid her hand around the nape of my neck, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “You were jealous,” she said quietly.
“I wasn’t,” I replied, much too quickly.
“You were,” she said, leaning closer. “And I think I like it.”
Well, fuck me.
My voice dropped. “Bailey,” I warned.
She tilted her chin down, her lips inches from mine, her voice soft but bold.
“I like knowing you care,” she said.
My hands slid up her thighs, brushing against the soft denim of her shorts.
“You already knew that,” I said.
She leaned in, fully in control, and pressed her lips against mine. This kiss was confident, self-assured, and I loved knowing she understood exactly the kind of power she had over me.
I pulled back, a little dazed, a little lovestruck—probably both.
“You puffed your chest out for me,” she teased.
I exhaled. “You’re impossible, peaches.”
She smiled, smug and warm. “And you’re jealous.”
I didn’t argue this time.