Believing Bailey

by Linda Kage

  “Tess?” He knew exactly which friend I was referring to. I loved that. “What’d she do?”

  Right, like I could tell him anything about her insane claims. “She’s just talking crazy talk.”

  He sent a laughing emoji before replying, “About me?”

  “Now why would you think that?” I wondered, blushing because he’d guessed it right.

  “No idea, but my guess certainly has nothing to do with your evasion of my answer,” he teased. The brat.

  A second later, he wrote more. “Must’ve been something bad about me. I don’t think she likes me.”

  My mouth dropped open, not sure how he’d ever come to that conclusion. I’d never seen Tess really dislike much of anyone one, unless they were super awful and deserved it. Curious but also incredulous by his assumption, I typed, “Whatever. Tess likes everyone.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. She’s always jerked her attention away whenever we’ve made eye contact, and the few times she’s ever talked to me she’s burrowed into Jonah as if seeking safety away from me. Are you sure she really thinks I’m innocent of that thing with Melody?”

  Realizing he’d totally misread the situation, I threw my head back and laughed. Hard. “Oh. That. Don’t worry. She freaks out and turns extra shy around guys she thinks are cute. Jonah and Logan seem to be the only two exceptions since she’s gotten comfortable with them.”

  It took him a minute to reply. And when he did, I rolled my eyes. “So, wait? She thinks I’m hot?”

  Oh, geez, what had I just done? “Don’t let it go to your head, Romeo.”

  Except he did. He totally did. “This is awesome,” he cheered. “You know, she DOES blush a lot around me, so it makes sense now. Oh man, I am so flirting with her hard the next time I see her!”

  Jealously flared to life hard inside me. I did not like the idea of him flirting with anyone. I felt a little vindictive when I wrote, “I’ll make sure to put flowers on your grave then, because Jonah will kill you for flirting with the love of his life.”

  He was quick to add, “Innocent, harmless, fun flirting. Nothing serious. I just want to see how much I can make her blush.”

  “That’s evil,” I charged.

  “As if you wouldn’t let it go to your head too. You’d totally give some guy an extra smile and a couple compliments if you knew your looks flustered him.”

  “Okay, maybe,” I allowed. Not that anyone would ever find me so attractive they became flustered and timid in my presence. But that only meant I’d definitely egg it on more if it ever happened. “Just don’t make her cry, or anything,” I decided. “Tess is super sensitive.”

  “Ouch, Prescott. That hurts. My compliments have never made any girl cry.”

  “Dear Lord. I never should’ve told you she thinks you’re pretty. You’re totally letting it go to your head.”

  “Hey, I’m the soul the humility over here.”

  I laughed and accidently caught sight of the time, only to sit upright, cursing. I had gotten carried away and lost track of everything but Beckett. “Shit. I just realized what time it is. Gotta go. Almost late to work.”

  “Okay,” he wrote back. “Text me again when you get home. AND DRIVE SAFE.”

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that spread. The only good part of my day came when we talked. It washed around the monotony and depression and made the world vivid and alive again. I was growing to depend on our chats more than I should.

  But it wasn’t because I was in love with him. That was just crazy.

  I pressed the phone to my chest, before I got my butt into gear and drove to work.

  I was still floating on my Beck high when I arrived at the parking lot outside.

  He’d sounded better today. I absolutely didn’t worry about him self-harming himself anymore. And he didn’t even seem so melancholy and hopeless. He’d become—I don’t know—upbeat, maybe. I would’ve said flirtier, except he never flirted with me. But there was definitely a certain growth of confidence in the things he said, as if he really were getting over the blow to his character that Melody had inflicted on him.

  And speaking of Melody Fairfield. The chick must be Beetlejuice or Bloody Mary, or someone, and I’d thought her name one too many times today, because she was the first person I saw when I stepped inside the boutique to clock in.

  Oh, for the love of—wait. Was she crying? Was she crying and talking to Vivian?

  Why was she crying and carrying on to my boss?

  Both women turned my way as the bell tolled over my head, announcing my arrival.

  Vivian’s mouth turned down and her eyes filled with disappointment and rage when she saw me. Melody had the gall to smirk.

  My stomach dropped as I slowed to a stop. The shop was fairly quiet. Only two other women were shopping, one by the shoes, the other checking out slacks.

  Melody pointed at me, drawing my attention back to her and my boss. “There,” she sniffed. “That’s her.”

  Vivian grew even more dour as she called, “Bailey, could you come here?”

  No. No, I really didn’t think I should go over there. But I did anyway, reluctantly shuffling forward, no idea what I was walking into or what Melody had set up.

  Crossing her arms sternly over her chest, Vivian pinched her lips together and shifted her jaw for a second before saying, “This young lady claims you harassed her when she came in to shop last week.”

  I blinked, not expecting that. “Huh?”

  A lie. She was trying to get me into trouble by going to my boss with a lie? What a stupid, lame, overused technique. I was actually disappointed in her. Did the witch have no other tricks up her sleeve?

  Vivian would never believe her over me. She loved me. I was her favorite employee; she’d told me so yesterday.

  “Did you call her a dirty skank and refuse to sell her a dress she tried to buy?”

  “No,” I said, frowning. At least, I’d never called her a skank aloud...not while I’d been working. And besides, “She didn’t try to buy anything.”

  “I did too.” Melody wiped her eyes before pointing at a dress hanging nearby from the wall. “I wanted to buy that one, but she told me no way in hell would she let me taint such a pretty dress with all my dirty skankiness.”

  Well, she totally would. It was an awesome dress.

  My thoughts must’ve reflected across my face because Vivian began to shake her head. “I-I’m at a loss of what to say here, Bailey. That behavior is totally unacceptable.”

  “Except that’s not what happened,” I argued.

  She lifted her hands as if they were tied, still shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t put up with a salesgirl who’d do something like that. I’m so disappointed in you, Bailey, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go.”

  Behind her, Melody broke out into a huge grin and even fist-pumped the air before waving her fingers in farewell at me and then mouthing the words, “Bye-bye now.”

  That.

  Bitch.

  Not only was it her fault Beck was a hundred miles away from me right now unable to enter the entire city or he’d be beaten to a pulp or called awful, terrible, untrue names, but now she was attacking my only means of income?

  Oh, I don’t think so.

  I’m not sure how to properly explain what happened next, but I snapped. I just…snapped.

  I spun to Vivian, utterly outraged. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I shouted.

  She blinked, not expecting my outburst. Then she glanced toward the other two customers in the store who were peering curiously our way. “Bailey,” she said in a lower, cautioning voice.

  But I’d had it. “No.” I pointed a finger at my ex-boss’s face. “You can’t fire me because I fucking quit! I can’t believe you took the word of this lying bitch over me, this bitch who’s had a vendetta against me ever since I actually told the truth about her. This bitch who destroyed an innocent man’s life just so her boyfriend wouldn
’t find out she was cheating on him. This bitch who lies to get whatever she wants. That’s what’s disappointing. If you can’t summon any more faith in me than that, then I’m sorry, but I just can’t work for you any longer. I hope you realize you just lost the most faithful employee you ever had.”

  And because I was on a roll, I whirled to Melody, satisfied when she lurched backward away from me as if intimidated. “And you,” I charged, aiming my finger her way. “That is the last lie you’ll ever tell about me.”

  I had no idea how I was going to keep that promise, but damn, it felt good to make.

  Both Vivian and Melody gaped as me as if I was the deranged one in this situation, as if they truly feared I was going to pull some tommy gun from my pocket and start blasting holes in the place. And yes, maybe I’d lost my cool, but fuck them. I wasn’t the one spreading lies or believing such stupid lies.

  They were idiots. Both of them.

  With a sniff, I rolled my eyes and turned away, done with them. Done with this store. Done with this entire fucking town.

  A rush of adrenaline filled me as I marched from the shop. It crowded into my blood, flooding my system until I actually felt euphonic. I’d just screamed at my boss and lost my job, but damn, getting all that out of my system had felt good. It felt awesome, actually.

  It was probably a bad thing to feel this way at this moment, I was juiced and ready to take on the world. Or at least ready to tell the world it could go screw itself.

  Working off pure emotional steam, I made the most impetuous decision of my life.

  I started packing as soon as I reached the apartment, throwing clothes willy-nilly into my bags. Thank God none of my roommates were home; they would’ve wanted an explanation and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to explain anything. Besides, they would’ve no doubt talked me out of my crazy, reckless decision of leave Granton, and college, and everything here forever. And no way did I want to hear anything rational or sane right now.

  I just wanted to go. Far away. Where no one spread lies about me, where no one refused to believe me, where no one looked at me as if I was insane or a creeper pervert. Where someone just appreciated me.

  I wanted Beck. So that’s where I went.

  To him.

  I think Tess had been right. Well, about some parts. Not the love part, because, just…no. I couldn’t—I shouldn’t—love him. But I definitely did feel guilty about leaving him at Thanksgiving. I must’ve been so bummed out lately because I felt crappy about deserting Beckett when he’d needed me the most that I’d lost control over my own life.

  So, if he needed me, then that’s where I was going to be.

  Maybe it would benefit us both.

  Chapter 31

  BAILEY

  My adrenaline high had worn off by the time I reached my dad’s farm, and the impact of my earlier actions was beginning to take root in my nerves, causing my hands to rattle around the steering wheel and the sweat to gather under my shirt.

  Because what the hell had I just done?

  Let’s see…

  I’d quit school, one week before finals.

  I’d disrespected a teacher and stood up in the middle of class before walking out.

  I’d bitched out my boss and lost my job.

  I’d pretty much threatened Melody Fairfield for getting me fired, hurting Beck, and turning the entire campus against me.

  I’d left my friends a horrible note that was probably going to freak them out, reason number one why I’d turned off my phone.

  And then I’d run here, straight to the one person who absolutely did not need any more problems or drama heaped on his shoulders.

  I began to wonder if I could somehow backtrack and repair some of the damage, and then I experienced panic when the expression on Vivian’s face flashed across my memory. Yeah, there was no way I was getting my job back. But school and the professor I’d insulted…

  Then again, did I even want to go back to that?

  No, but what was I supposed to do with the rest of my life if I didn’t?

  My anxiety returned until I spotted Beck’s truck sitting in the driveway by the barn, the severely scratched side making an ache of longing arc through me. He and my brother had come to Granton over a week ago to pick it up. I’d been in class at the time and had completely missed them. I’d moped through the entire evening, wishing I’d skipped classes that day.

  Suddenly, nothing that had happened two hours away mattered anymore. Beck was here, and he needed me.

  Parking by the house, I killed the engine and just sat there, staring at his truck. I wondered where he was even as a lone rider on one of my dad’s mares, Lula Bell, trotted into view from the south pasture.

  My breathing stalled in my chest, and my lips parted in awe. I’d never seen Beck on a horse, but I knew it was him. I could feel it deep inside me. Besides, he wasn’t riding like my dad or any of my brothers did. This guy knew how to sit on a horse as if he were part of the animal under him. They moved in tandem, the mare turning toward the barn with barely a nudge from his reins.

  When they disappeared inside, I drifted that way, drawn to see more but also not rushing, because I suddenly felt shy—a completely foreign concept to me. I was almost reluctant to approach him when he was like this. This was…well, it was too big for me to handle.

  But Beck. My Bucket. He was…

  I reached the opening of the barn and saw him poised at the other end as he brushed down Lula Bell from her exercise. She nickered gently and moved her face into his space, making him chuckle and nudge her away before he pulled a treat from his pocket. She snagged it from his fingers, and he gave her neck a loving stroke. Then he tied her to the door of the stall so he could heft a pitchfork and clean out the old hay inside it.

  He didn’t wear cowboy boots but a pair of tan Wolverine work boots. His blue jeans weren’t even particularly tight, though they were nicely worn and faded in a couple of interesting places. No shiny belt buckle or pearl-snap buttons adorned him anywhere. His fleece-lined plaid jacket and ball cap which were fraying in certain spots, looked completely practical and comfortable instead of ostentatious. But holy hell, the cowboy groupie in me took immediate interest.

  He was perfect. Beyond perfect. He wasn’t some decorated showpiece. He was the real deal. Sweat glistened on his face as he worked, the muscles in his back and thighs flexing and stretching with every jab he heaved the pitchfork into the hay and shoveled it up before pivoting to sling it into the wheelbarrow beside him. God, just watching him made me drool.

  All the raw, masculine ruggedness contained inside one person seemed too much, too overwhelming. Everything female into me gravitated toward it, wanting to grip it tight and sink my fingers into it, then quiver into ecstasy as it consumed me.

  He was everything I’d ever wanted.

  But the most crushing part of it all was the realization that this was Beck. Beck! The stumbling drunk I’d first assumed was nothing but a preppy frat boy, who had then turned into a broken man, which further transformed into…into the one person I somehow needed the most right now. How had he converted from all that into the very image of my ideal dream?

  It frankly scared me. Dreams weren’t real. They were something to joke about, like calling Chance—the bastard—my soulmate for that whole year before I’d actually met him. I’d known he would never became a reality because it’d only been a dream.

  But the reality of Beck seemed to be turning into an unobtainable dream right before my eyes. I wanted to run to him and claw away his sexy country clothes and shout no, tell him to stop. He needed to stay the guy I could talk to, the boy whose panic attacks only I could stop, the friend who could sit on my bed with me and talk about anything with or text to for hours into the night.

  It was as if I could already feel that person slipping away.

  Finished cleaning out Lula Bell’s stall, Beck led her inside before removing her bridle and shutting her door. He remained unaware of my presen
ce as he lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow and began to roll it out the opposite opening of the barn from where I stood.

  I began to back away. For some reason, this all suddenly felt like a horrible awful mistake. What the hell was I doing?

  Forget thinking he needed me, I’d come because I’d needed him, because I missed him. And that was all wrong. Nothing could ever happen between us. I was crazy for ever thinking it might.

  Because, pfft. Me? Really? It was laughable to even let myself imagine it. No one had ever wanted me like that. No one ever would.

  Even if I did receive anything form Beckett, it wouldn’t be real. He’d only feel obligated to reciprocate because I’d helped him out of a bad spot. He’d never really feel for me what I felt for him.

  I began to hurry toward my car, hoping he didn’t notice me leaving. I’d just cleared the barn and was still a good thirty yards from my vehicle, when I glanced over and saw him across the way.

  He’d just spotted my car and was jerking to a stop, the wheelbarrow still held in his grip. His gaze swept from one way to the other until he finally spotted me. Then the handles dropped from his gloved hands and bits of hay and manure jostled from the cart as it knocked roughly back to earth. His boots ate up ground as he hurried my way.

  I didn’t move to greet him, paralyzed in my shoes. I just stood there, gaping, not sure what to do, my heart racing and breaths heaving.

  The same moment he came close enough for me to make out the huge grin on his face, he cried, “Bailey? Holy shit, it’s really you.” He yanked off his gloves and tossed them down as he jogged the last few steps to me.

  He reached me sooner than I was ready for, and shocked the crap out of me when he laughed and swept me up in a huge hug that lifted me off the ground and spun me around.

  “Oh my God,” he breathed into my hair, smashing my breasts against his hard chest as the smell of leather and horses and Beck swelled around me. “I can’t believe this. What’re you doing here? You still have finals next week.”

  “I…I was able to get everything finished this week,” I lied breathlessly as he set me back on my feet and took a step in reverse so he could sweep his gaze over me.