by Hayleigh Sol
Oh God, Bailey’s what? Why the hesitation?
“She’s an incredible woman. Smart and strong, funny, gorgeous—”
Tracie let out a mini squeal. “I knew it! You’re totally into her.”
“As I was saying”—I heard the censure in his voice, though I struggled to listen after his outrageously flattering list—“Bailey’s got this huge heart—”
“I’m so glad you see that. Sorry, done interrupting.”
“But I think she’s…”
Hell, here it comes. She’s cold, she’s too prickly. She’s not the one for me.
“Too scared to try for anything more than light and casual.”
For someone who prided herself on being strong, independent, and capable of anything I set my mind to, “scared” was one of the worst descriptors I could’ve heard about myself. My gut reaction was to blow off what he’d said. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I would have insisted on that undeniable fact just a couple of months ago.
Now though? Now I had to admit he might be right.
Tracie sat up and faced her brother. I flattened against the wall, telling myself I should sneak away before they caught me. But her words halted my retreat once more.
“I’ve always gotten that impression, too. Like her tough–gal act is a smokescreen.”
It’s not an act, dammit. I am tough.
“I know I shouldn’t ask, but I want to understand her better. I need to know if more than what we’re doing now is a possibility, or if she’ll always be so guarded.”
Oh, Garrett.
“Do you know anything about her ex?”
Tracie shook her head. “I know they were engaged and he cheated, but she didn’t divulge many details.”
“Yeah, she told me the same. It sounds like they were on–again, off–again a lot. But I got the feeling there was a lot more to it than she was saying.” He didn’t know the half of it. “Oh, and her father had an affair and ditched the family to marry the mistress. It sounds like she was really close to him before that. I don’t think she’s spoken to him since she was a teenager.”
“Poor Bailey. Have you tried asking her for more details?”
Garrett leaned his head against the couch. “I haven’t figured out how. Not if I don’t want to scare her away, thinking I’m pushing too fast.”
“You may be my stinky big brother, but you’re a really good guy.”
His laugh was dry. “Thanks. You want to tell Bailey that?”
“She’ll see it, sweetie. If you’re patient, she’ll see who you are.”
I blinked back the tears that had pooled in my eyes just as a door opened overhead. Luckily, I had enough time to dash around the other side of the stairs and into an office with French doors that opened onto a patio. Hugging my arms around myself, I walked down the beach and watched the waves until I felt ready to return to the house and face everyone.
After the six of us had picked a bushel of apples—technically, not a bushel, since that was over one hundred freakin’ apples, I learned—Noah pointed out that we’d never be able to eat them all before we returned home. A collective groan rose from the group. The owners of the orchard were happy to take them off our hands.
“It’s actually a pretty clever way to get tourists to do your work for you.”
I had to agree with Kevin on that as I carried my portion of the apples we were keeping. “These smell so great, I’m feeling inspired to make an apple pie when we get back.”
Garrett opened the door to one of the two cars we’d rented to get around the island. “Apple’s my favorite kind of pie, especially with lots of cinnamon. Want some help?” He smiled down at me before taking the bag from my arms, where I’d been carrying it like a lumpy baby.
“Nope. And I don’t want any comments from the chef on my recipe, my technique… In fact”—I propped a sassy hand on one hip and stared him down—“I don’t think I’m gonna let you taste any of my pie.”
He fake–pouted. “You’re not going to let me have any of my favorite kind of pie? That’s just mean.”
I sat in the back seat next to Ashley and hooked my seatbelt in place. Garrett stayed outside talking to Tracie and Noah, probably about the next stop on our itinerary.
“Nice one,” Ashley said with a smirk. “Seducing Garrett through his stomach. I didn’t take you for the Suzy Homemaker type, but it’s awfully convenient that apple pie’s his favorite.”
Maybe it was the nasal mocking emphasis on “favorite” or the disdain etched on her face, but I decided that this ended now.
Turning to face her was uncomfortable while strapped in, so I undid the belt I’d just snapped and shifted in my seat. “Ashley, I’m not trying to seduce anyone, I just wanted some damn pie.”
She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, her lips pressing into a flat line of disbelief.
“What is this rivalry you imagine is between us? You’ve made it pretty clear that you’re interested in Garrett but, and I’m not trying to be rude here, he doesn’t appear to feel the same way.”
“He just needs a little convincing. Which I might be able to do if you weren’t always around. Not that I’m afraid of a little challenge.” Her chin tilted up a notch.
I resisted grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a good shake. “But why would you want a man you have to convince to want you? You’re better than that. Look at you. You’re kind—well, when you’re not trying to win some unspoken competition over a dude—you’re funny, successful, smart, beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“Just not Garrett, right? You’re staking your claim, is that it? I should go find some other ‘lucky’ guy. Spare me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. If it looked like Garrett was picking up when you’re putting down, I’d stay well out of the way and wish you both all the happiness in the world. Because I’ve always believed that, instead of being catty or competitive, women should support and encourage each other. Don’t you think? It’s not like there’s a shortage of men going around. And most of them aren’t worth the trouble women go to for them in the first place.”
She chuckled, her defensive posture relaxing the tiniest bit. “That’s definitely true.”
“Damn skippy, it is.” I glanced out the windshield and saw one of the owners approach Tracie and Noah with a box of what looked like bottles of the cider we’d seen being made on the tour earlier. “Listen, as someone who twisted herself into knots for years over a guy who didn’t deserve it—or me—I can say, without any hesitation, that you want someone who looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced apple pie.”
Her brow had wrinkled as she listened but the corner of her mouth tilted up at my pie reference. “I do want that.”
“Of course you do. And you deserve it. We all do.”
Ashley looked out the window at Garrett and tilted her head, considering. “You know, I’m not even that crazy about guys with blonde hair. I like tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Well, he’s tall and handsome. I can certainly see the appeal.”
She shook her head slightly. “Nah, I was always wishing he had a little facial hair, maybe a goatee. Or a beard.”
Uggh, not my preference. To each their own, I suppose.
Looking my way again, all traces of hostility were gone and the kindness I’d seen so often in her was back. “I’ve actually been working on some self–esteem issues with a therapist. Everything you just said makes more sense than anything he’s come up with yet. You’re right, why would I want a guy who doesn’t want me?”
I returned her smile, then wanted to be sure there’d be no hard feelings later. “Uh, in the interests of full disclosure, Garrett and I have been sort of…seeing each other. This isn’t me marking territory or anything, I just thought you’d appreciate the heads up.”
The corner of her mouth t
ipped up in a sly grin. “Yeah, I thought that might be the case.”
Tracie and Noah met Kevin at the other rental car, Tracie waving at us before she got in. Garrett walked toward the driver’s side of our car, catching my eye through the windshield.
“He looks at you like that, you know. Like you’re the greatest thing since apple pie.”
Denial was on the tip of my tongue but Garrett opened the door and slid into the seat. “Alright, ladies. It’s pumpkin time. Music requests?”
Without saying a word, he turned to an oldies station and smiled at me in the rearview mirror. Ashley raised her eyebrows at me and nodded, smugly.
The pumpkin patch wasn’t the cute little farm I’d been picturing. This thing was a major operation with signage, food vendors, and overflow parking in a field next door. Tracie led the way, practically skipping as she pointed at the sign for the corn maze, spelled m–a–i–z–e with a cartoon corn cob in place of the i.
“Holy hayride, it’s a freakin’ fall extravaganza. Emma would go bonkers over this place.” I shook my head in amusement, catching a whiff of kettle corn that had me salivating.
Garrett, who I hadn’t realized was so close, moved up next to me and smiled. “Sounds like she and Tracie would be insta–besties. You know she’s going to make all of us do that damn maze, right?”
“You guys! We have to do the corn maze, c’mon!”
We both laughed and, as Garrett moved to follow his sister, he took my hand and pulled me along. There was something about his touch that made my heart beat faster at the same time I was completely comfortable.
“Hey Trace, wait, there’s—”
“Come on, whoever finishes last is a rotten egg. No, wait, they have to do the dishes the rest of the weekend!” Tracie dragged a laughing Noah to the entrance, nearly mowing down a couple of kids in her enthusiasm. Spurred on by the desire to avoid dish duty, Ashley and Kevin jogged to catch up.
Garrett and I were still looking at the big sign to the left of the entrance and all the bins of laminated cards that offered quiz questions to help direct your journey through the maze.
“Think we should try to catch up and tell them?” I gave Garrett a playful look that made him grin back and shake his head.
He squeezed my hand and we leisurely stepped forward. “Nah, let’s let ‘em wander around, tire themselves out.”
I laughed at that. “You make them sound like puppies. Or children.”
“Exactly.”
We looked over our options for trivia questions and settled on Fun Food Facts, expecting Garrett’s knowledge as a chef to give us an even greater edge over the aimless competition. It totally did.
At various junctions throughout the maze, there were numbered signs that corresponded to a question on our trivia card. The correct answer would tell you to go right or left. We cruised through the first few before we bumped into the rest of our group, heading in the opposite direction. The one we’d just come from.
It looked like Noah was ready to take us up on our offer to share clues, but Tracie, and even Kevin and Ashley, were having a good time and claimed to be enjoying the challenge without “cheating”.
I shrugged at Garrett and we let them carry on. Even with help, the maze took a good hour to complete and, once we’d reemerged into corn–free territory, we rewarded ourselves with a caramel apple that was so big we shared it.
Yeah, yeah, very Lady and the Tramp of us.
Garrett texted his sister for an update and it sounded like we were going to be here the rest of the day. We wandered over to the pumpkins and got down to the serious business of selecting the perfect candidates for our carving party. Assuming we’d make it back to the house before we actually turned into pumpkins.
“What do you think of this one? I feel like these lumps give it character.”
I narrowed my eyes and analyzed Garrett’s latest choice. “I do like the wart potential of those lumps, but that thing’s huge. It’s gonna take forever just to scrape all the seeds and pulp out. Plus, the stem’s not great for hat purposes.” I hoisted my own squash with a flourish. “Check out this bad boy. Decent size, a nice flat surface for carving, and look at his jaunty little hat.”
Returning my dopey grin, Garrett shook his head. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”
Had anyone ever accused me of adorableness before? I didn’t think so.
“Explain this hat thing to me.”
My shoulders shrugged. “You know, you need a decent stem so you can easily remove and replace the hat when you put a little tea light in there. Oo, we have to remember to get some of those.”
Garrett found his own pumpkin and ran it by me for approval, a hopeful look in his shining blue eyes. I gave him a double thumbs–up. “It’s gourd–geous. Sure to squash the competition.”
He chuckled at my enthusiasm. Well, probably more at my corny puns, which would’ve tickled Simone, too. Even I was surprised by how much fun I was having. I wasn’t thrilled about the itchy hayride portion of the day’s plans—if the rest of our group ever made it out of the maze—but even that wasn’t killing my smile. As was becoming the norm, Garrett and I had talked and made each other laugh the entire time we’d navigated the maze, solving trivia questions together, dodging the kids who’d managed to dodge their parents.
We’d held hands off and on all day. It was nice.
Too nice, my guarded heart whispered.
For once, I didn’t listen. And, when Noah texted that the group had ended up back at the first turn and we should save ourselves, Garrett and I grinned at each other like we’d been handed a get–out–of–jail–free card.
He was taking me sailing.
Chapter 20
Despite the blue skies and sunshine, Garrett warned me it would likely be cold on the water and I should bring a sweatshirt. Because there was no way he was giving me his.
His cheekiness made me laugh, appreciating a man who could sass me with a smile. He’d done some research and found a place to rent a sloop for a few hours and, in less time than it took most of my clients to decide on a new pair of shoes, he was piloting us out of the harbor.
Garrett explained some of what he was doing with the mainsail and the jib, reminding me of sailing terms my dad used to try and teach Dustin and me: heeling, tacking, jibing. Mostly, I made sure to stay out of the way of the boom when it was time to switch sides. I tossed Garrett a saucy salute and “aye aye, Cap’n” whenever possible.
“Alright, we should be able to stay on this course for a bit. Wanna come take the helm?”
As if he even had to ask. I took over his position with a confident, “Let me show you how it’s done.”
He shook his head, chuckling, then helped me get a feel for the tiller. For several minutes, we enjoyed the wind on our faces and the quiet creaking noises a sailboat makes as it slaps through the water.
“So, you said your dad took you and your brother out when you were little. Was it fun for you?”
My gaze took in the expanse of water around us and I inhaled deeply, dragging in the briny air. “Yeah, I always loved hanging with my dad. He was this smart, funny guy who really made time for his family.” I gave Garrett a wry look. “Until he didn’t. Actually, he probably makes time for the replacement fam now.” I shook my head to clear any trace of bitterness. “Anyway, yeah, we had fun on the water. My brother was always more like my mom and Dad and I were always looking for the next adventure. I loved sharing that stuff with him.”
It had been a long time since I’d let myself think about my father that way. Reminiscing over good times was difficult when the man was still alive and showed no signs that he thought of his first family at all.
“You know, my brother plans to see him for Thanksgiving.”
Garrett’s eyes widened. “Is that the first time since…”
“Since he left? Pretty much, yeah. Dusty says Dad wants
to make amends, that he wants to get to know us again.” My lips twisted as I shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
“I take it you haven’t spoken to your father.”
“No need. I think I’ve turned out just fine without a father all these years. Spending time with him, letting him apologize or whatever, would only be for his benefit. So he can ease his guilty conscience, I guess.”
Garrett watched me, not with one of the two looks most people gave you when you talked about not having a relationship with a parent. In my experience, they either felt sorry for you or told you that you should make more of an effort for family. What a bunch of crap. Relationships were a two–way deal, in my book. If the other person didn’t make an effort, why should I?
“Hey,” I said, then cleared my throat. Since this morning I’d been wondering if I should bring this up, and how I should handle it if I did.
“I overheard a little of your conversation with Tracie this morning.” He gave me a questioning look. “About, um, my ex.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t want to call him out by mentioning his implication that he might want more than a casual fling with me. “It’s not something I like to talk about—or even think about anymore—but I figured I should fill you in on the whole sordid mess. Since we’re sleeping together fairly often and I know I can be the tiniest bit prickly or, you know, guarded.”
“Bailey, you don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable.” His words belied the surprised interest in his eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I think you should know.” Noticing my throat had suddenly dried up, I pulled a water from the tote we’d brought and took a couple of long swallows.
Garrett made a couple of adjustments to the sailboat, taking over for me at the helm as I fidgeted with the flip cap on my water bottle.
“Aaron and I met in high school. I may have told you that already, along with the fact that we were always breaking up and getting back together. In high school and college. It was our thing.” My chuckle was without mirth. “Every time he wanted me back, he was the perfect, attentive, loving boyfriend.