Why had she gone out with him? Oh, yeah, her sister-in-law Risa had set her up. The guy had been wrong for Bailey from the start, but she had liked having someone to go out with when she was in Seattle—AJ was always too busy—but as soon as Oliver began spouting his opinion about what she should be doing with her money or talking about his newest client and wanting to be introduced to AJ, the fun ended. Being on her own was so much easier.
Still, she found herself drawn to Justin in a way she hadn’t been before. The little things he did, like having a hand ready if she stumbled or a kind gesture when she needed one most, were thoughtful, and she liked hearing what he had to say, even when she disagreed. But nothing would change their situation with the inn. No reason to complicate matters. Or chase heartache.
She pulled her hand from beneath Justin’s. “So...”
Justin did a double take at her hand at the edge of the table, as if he hadn’t realized he was still touching her. Maybe he’d enjoyed the contact as much as her.
Best not to go there.
He put his hand under the table.
Then again, maybe not.
With his other hand, he ran his thumb along the cup’s handle. “We’re talking about Floyd, not me.”
“Didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, I did.” Bailey nearly laughed. “Subtlety isn’t my strong point. But I’m trying to understand.”
“Floyd?”
“And you.”
His thumb continued moving up and down, up and down. “I wouldn’t waste any time trying to figure out Floyd’s actions. Sometimes those we think we know turn out to be complete strangers.”
“Sounds like some woman did a number on you.”
He flinched. “Excuse me?”
His shocked expression made her want to giggle. She’d caught him off guard. Again. “From what you’re saying, I’m guessing it’s not all about Floyd.”
“I’m...divorced.”
Interesting. Most women wouldn’t catch and release such an attractive guy with a stable job who seemed relatively charming. Though she hardly knew him. He could be a weirdo for all she knew. Or a cheater. “Should I say I’m sorry or something else?”
“Sorry works. My ex wanted the divorce.”
His voice held zero emotion. Over the woman or in denial? Hard to tell. Not that his past was Bailey’s business.
“And no, I didn’t cheat.” He stared into his coffee cup, then met her gaze. “That’s what everyone assumes.”
“The thought may have crossed my mind.”
“Our expectations of married life were different. She wanted to live in Portland. My work was on the coast, and job sites weren’t always close to home. We grew apart.”
“That’s happened to a few people I know.” But not Bailey’s parents. They had been married for thirty-five years, through good times and bad times, and some horrible, want-to-forget ones, but they’d stuck together. That was what commitment—and saying “I do”—was about. But she’d never dated anyone for more than a few months, so what did she know? “You don’t have to tell me this.”
“You wanted to know.”
“Yes, but that’s small-town life for you. Hard to break the butting-your-nose-in habit, even though I don’t like when people do it to me.”
“Any more questions?”
“Are you still in contact with your ex?”
“No, she remarried and had a baby. She’s happy now.” A mutual friend had told Justin the news. “No reason for us to be in touch.”
“Would you get married again?” Bailey asked.
“Hard to say, but unless I found a woman who either liked being on her own or traveling to job sites with me, probably not. I thought marriage would be easier, but it’s a helluva lot of work. I have enough of that with my job.”
How sad. Having to work at a marriage might be hard, but she believed the rewards would be worth the effort. Maybe Justin would realize that someday.
The conversation around them rose as silence took over their table. A man typed on his laptop. A woman stared at her smartphone. An elderly couple sat on a love seat and read the paper together.
A longing to grow old with someone rose within Bailey. She tapped it down.
“So my turn to ask the questions,” Justin said. “How does an artist living in a small town end up on the historical committee?”
“Painter, and I love old buildings.”
“What do you love? The design, the materials?”
“Those things are interesting, but for me it’s all about the history.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. The heat from the coffee warmed her palms, but she preferred Justin’s touch. “The buildings are living memorials to the people who have been there before.”
“Some are.”
“Every single one.” She thought back. “When I spent a semester in Europe, I climbed so many bell towers. The stone steps were worn smooth. You could see the paths people took, and that made me think of everyone who had climbed before me. Were they local or from far away? Recent or from centuries ago? What had they wanted to see when they reached the top? Were they with someone special or getting over a lost love?”
Justin leaned back in his chair. “You don’t hesitate getting in someone’s face, but you’re also a romantic.”
“I don’t know about that.” Bailey ripped the edge of a napkin into a symmetrical fringe. She couldn’t believe he’d figured out that side of her. “My family would disagree. They call me hard-nosed.”
“You’re that, too,” he teased.
He studied her like a scientist looking to identify a new virus. She forced herself not to move. “I wouldn’t disagree, but hard-nosed and romantic don’t exactly go together.”
Maybe her brothers weren’t the only reason she was still single. Maybe she was as much to blame for driving men away.
“The traits go together in their own way.” Justin’s flirty smile raised her temperature ten degrees. “You know the past and see a future. You won’t be bullied, but value artistry.”
She sat taller, buoyed by a sense of purpose and pride. “I take my position on the historical committee seriously. And the inn...” From the time she was a little girl, she’d imagined getting married there someday. “...means a lot to me personally.”
“Your actions are proof of that. The self-declared Guardian of the Broughton Inn.”
“Thanks.” Satisfaction bubbled inside her.
“You would take that as a compliment.”
“I do.” Her gaze met his. “You realize no matter how much you and your family want the inn, I plan on living up to that title. And winning.”
“I have no doubt we’ll fight to the end.” His respectful tone held a challenge. “I’m up for it.”
She raised her chin. “So am I.”
Chapter 5
Bailey had thrown down the gauntlet, and Justin had taken it up. He leaned back in his chair at the coffee shop. He didn’t want to think about the damage that would be done by the time he won this battle. “Enough about the inn.”
She eyed him warily. “That’s the only reason we’re here.”
Not him.
He’d never met a woman like Bailey Cole and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. Smart, attractive, she would prove a worthy opponent, but no matter how determined she was, she would lose. At the end, she would hate him, if she didn’t already. He couldn’t tell. That bugged the hell out of him.
“Doesn’t mean the inn’s all we have to discuss.” The coffee shop door jingled. From his peripheral vision, he saw people entering, but his attention remained on Bailey. Justin rested his elbows on the wooden table. “Tell me about—”
“I’m boring.”
“Haley’s Bay,” he said a beat after she spoke.
She blushed.
Hmm. Maybe she liked him a little or maybe she was egocentric. Either way, she amused him, but he kept his smile neutral rather than a blatant I-see-you’re-interested-in-me grin.
Justin raised his cup, only to realize no coffee remained. He took a pretend sip. Bailey would be none the wiser, and that would keep them from saying goodbye too soon.
“Didn’t you do a market analysis of the town before you purchased the inn?” she asked.
“For an artist and former cook, you know how business works.”
“Common sense. And art is a business if you want to make a living with your work.”
He liked her answer. Brains had always been a turn-on to him. “A market analysis was performed, but you live here. I want to hear what you think.”
Bailey gazed into her mug, then looked up at him. “Haley’s Bay is a typical Pacific Northwest small town. The name comes from a trader who anchored his ship in the bay. Fishing used to drive the local economy, but now tourism brings in the money. Population nearly doubles in the summer, thanks to tourists wanting to hang out at the beach or sightsee. The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center appeals to the history buffs. And who doesn’t like lighthouses?”
“Sounds like you gave me the Chamber of Commerce robot spiel.”
A smile lit up Bailey’s face. “Guilty. I’m biased, so I gave you the vanilla, glossy trifold brochure version.”
“I want to hear the Rocky Road version.”
“With nuts?”
“Of course.” Some whipped cream would be nice, too. And a cherry. He undid the top button on his collar.
“Well... Haley’s Bay is a small town with lots of history. A couple of families like mine have lived here forever. Gossip is rampant. The women at the Cut, Curl & Dye Salon are the worst. I drive to Astoria if I need a trim, or do it myself. The guys who hang out at the Crow’s Nest aren’t much better. Conformity is applauded here. Being different means no one will even try to understand you, except family. And that’s not always a given. High school was brutal for kids like me. Most grew up dreaming about leaving for the big city, but many of us stayed or came back. “
“You came back?”
“I never left except for college. My family, except for two older brothers, lives here. For all the town’s faults, there’s a sense of paying it forward in Haley’s Bay I haven’t found elsewhere. This is the only place I want to live.”
At least she was honest about that fact, unlike his ex, who swore she wouldn’t miss living in Portland. But Taryn had gone into the marriage thinking she could change his mind about staying on the coast. “You mentioned driving to Seattle.”
Bailey nodded. “I oversee AJ’s gallery. I’m up there a few times each month.”
“More opportunity for art sales in the big city?”
“In the off-season, most sales happen through the Seattle gallery. I’m grateful for the extra exposure. So, you live on the Oregon coast?” She downed what remained in her cup.
“Lincoln City. My sister Paige works with my parents at our headquarters there. She’s an attorney. My younger sister, Rainey, is an interior designer and spends her time at whatever resorts we’re renovating.”
“You oversee construction.”
“And design. That’s my favorite part.”
“You’re an architect who wears different hats.”
He nodded. “Keeping the work in the family. All we’re missing is a chef.”
“Your parents should have had four kids.”
“We joke about that.”
Bailey glanced out the window to her right. She leaned toward the glass. “The stray dog from the inn is out there. He’s so skinny.”
Justin followed the direction of her gaze.
The thin brown dog sat on the sidewalk staring into the coffee shop. Mud covered the animal, but Justin saw the outline of the dog’s bones beneath the dirty fur.
Bailey stood, took a step toward the door. “That dog needs medical attention.”
He rose. “Where are you going?”
“To get the dog.”
“Stay off your feet. I’ll get the dog.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You sure?”
Helping the dog might put him on Bailey’s good side. “Positive.”
How much trouble could a dog be? Justin stepped out of the coffee shop. The sun was brighter, the temperature at least five degrees hotter since they’d entered the coffee shop.
“Hey, dog.” He looked at the pathetic, filthy animal that hadn’t moved. “Hungry?”
The dog panted.
“You must be thirsty, too.” Justin knew nothing about animals and couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with a dog. But anyone with half a heart could see this one needed help. “Come here so we can get you fixed up.”
The dog scratched himself with a hind leg.
“You know you don’t want to be on your own out there. Let’s get you some food. A bath. Flea medicine.”
The dog tilted his head. Two brown eyes watching Justin.
He took a step closer. “Make me look good for the pretty lady looking out the window, and I’ll get you a bone.”
The dog didn’t move.
“And a ball.” He came closer. At least the dog didn’t seem to be afraid of him. “That’s fine. Just sit there. I’ll come to you.”
Justin wanted to show Bailey he had this, even if he’d never owned or even walked a dog. He stood less than an arm’s distance away. “Let’s get you fed and cleaned up, buddy.”
He reached for the dog, felt fur under his palm, then air. The dog bolted.
Justin lost his balance and hit the sidewalk, flat on his ass. So much for impressing Bailey.
“Oh, no,” Bailey’s voice sounded from the door to the coffee shop. “Are you okay?”
He sat on his butt, brushed off his hands. “Ego’s bruised, but that’s about it.”
She joined him on the sidewalk. Her lips curved upward. “Not very experienced with dogs, are you?”
“You could tell.”
A smile graced her lips. “Just a little, but nice try.”
If she was trying to make him feel better...
She extended her arm. “Let me help you up.”
He took her hand and found himself standing so close to her he could feel her breath on his neck. Her eyes locked on his. Her pink, delicious-looking lips parted.
Oh, yeah. He wanted a taste. A nibble would do.
If he angled his head slightly, he could kiss—
A bark cut through the air.
Bailey took a step back. “The dog.”
Justin glanced around to see a flash of brown trotting away from them along the sidewalk. Not too fast, but a catch-me-if-you-can pace.
Bailey’s nose crinkled. Concern filled her gaze.
Justin had a feeling he would regret this, but what the hell. Anything he had to do could wait until later. “Want to go after the dog?”
* * *
Bailey waited outside the coffee shop for Justin to return in his truck. Her stomach twisted like a glass-blown piece gone wrong. A part of her wanted him to take his time, except she wanted to find the dog. But she needed to cool herself down. Heat continued to burn her cheeks. She must look like one of Titian’s blushing virgins.
How embarrassing. She’d thought Justin was going to kiss her when he stood up. Worse, she’d wanted him to kiss her. This was becoming more complicated by the second, and she wasn’t the type for complications. Life was hard enough. She should say goodbye and not see him until their next meeting about the inn.
And she would.
After they found the dog.
Bailey scanned the street for a glimpse of the stray. Tourists packed the sidewalk, but no sign of the pup who needed food, water, medical treat
ment and to know someone cared.
She did.
If only her foot wasn’t hurt, she could have run after the dog instead of being forced to wait for a ride. But she’d been standing too long this morning, and her entire leg ached. She sat on a nearby bench.
Glong. Glong. D-ding-a-ting-glong.
The bells chimed on her cell phone. She glanced at the screen. “Hey, Grandma.”
“Hello, dear.” The sound of waves could be heard in the background. “I’m in Long Beach. Do you need a ride home from Tyler’s office?”
“I’m good.” Justin would probably offer to drive her home after they found the dog. “Don’t rush back for me.”
“Okay, I’ll bring lunch by later. I baked brownies this morning.”
“Yum. My favorite. Thanks.” Her grandmother loved cooking for her family, especially her grandkids. “But I’m going to gain five pounds if you keep feeding me so much.”
“Men like women with curves.”
Did Justin? The thought flashed in Bailey’s brain. She shouldn’t care, but the more time she spent with him, the more she did.
A large black pickup stopped at the light caught her attention. Justin sat in the driver’s seat, looking like a cross between a CEO and a cowboy. Her pulse stuttered. A totally inappropriate response when not seeing him again was her smartest move.
She rose, swung her purse onto her shoulder and walked toward the curb. “I’ve got to go, Grandma. Justin is here.”
“Who’s Justin?”
No. No. No. Bailey cringed. Had she really mentioned a man’s name to her grandmother? She hadn’t opened a can of worms; she’d released a vat of them.
“Bailey? Are you there?”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat, wishing she could have a do-over. “I’m here.”
“Is Justin your new beau?”
The hope filling Grandma’s voice sliced into Bailey’s heart with scalpel-like precision. Having her grandchildren marry had become Lilah Cole’s driving goal since AJ fell in love with nanny Emma Markwell last August. A big, billionaire-worthy wedding was in the works and that delighted Grandma. At least her matchmaking was subtler than Risa’s, but Bailey wouldn’t be surprised if the two were in cahoots, along with her great-aunt Ida Mae.
Falling for Mr. Right: Still the One ; His Proposal, Their Forever Page 27