She bit into the brownie.
This would have to do. For now.
* * *
Three hours later, Justin folded the legs of the last table. He and Bailey were the only ones still at Lilah’s. No one had asked him to stay, but Bailey’s pale face and the circles under her eyes bothered him. He wanted to make sure she didn’t do any heavy lifting.
“Where do the tables go?” he asked.
“In the storage room, but Declan will be here in a few minutes to help and then drive Bailey home.” Lilah swept the hardwood floor. “It’ll go faster with the two of you.”
Declan, one of the brothers who would mess up Justin’s face if he got too close to their sister.
“Should I be worried about meeting another one of your brothers?” he asked Bailey in a lighthearted tone, hoping he could squeeze a smile from her tired face.
She sat on the floor and packed away her supplies in two large plastic containers. She didn’t look up at him. “Not if you behave yourself.”
He had touched her at the dessert table. Having his hand around her waist felt natural. She hadn’t seemed to mind. At least he hadn’t kissed her, though he’d been tempted once. Maybe twice. Okay, a lot of times. But he knew better without an invitation.
“I always behave myself. But you might not agree with the behavior.”
Bailey tilted her head toward Lilah, who seemed to be working extra hard sweeping imaginary crumbs. A not-now look followed.
The door opened, then closed. A twenty-something man wearing shorts, a ripped T-shirt and flip-flops entered the room. He looked like a modern-day pirate with a scruff of whiskers, shoulder-length dark hair and tattoos on his arms. He had green eyes like the other Cole siblings.
The guy gave Justin the once-over, didn’t look impressed by what he saw. “You the resort guy who wants to tear down my sister’s inn?”
That summed up the situation succinctly if you happened to be a Cole.
Bailey hung her head. “Declan...”
“I’m Justin McMillian, resort guy.”
“Declan Cole, fishing guy and boxer.” He didn’t extend his arm. Must not be a shaking-hands type. “You an artist or do you just like hanging with older ladies...and my sister?”
“I’m not an artist. Architect.” Justin kept his tone light. This guy didn’t just talk tough. He was rough ’n’ tumble and ready to fight, the kind of man you didn’t mess with in a bar or anywhere. “Your aunt invited me. I’m staying at her B and B. But I must admit the Garden Club ladies are a fun bunch.”
Declan cracked his knuckles. “And my sister?”
“An excellent artist and instructor.”
Lilah stepped forward. “Justin’s quite a painter, isn’t he, Bailey?”
She looked up. “Yes, very talented. Surprised the hell out of me.”
Lilah gasped.
Declan laughed.
Justin smiled. He could always count on Bailey being honest.
The front door opened. Grady or Ellis must be making an appearance. Justin looked at the doorway to see which brother had arrived. Tyler Cole entered. He wore dress slacks and a button-down shirt. No tie or jacket, but he looked as though he might have come straight from work in those clothes.
“Tyler.” Lilah sounded surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”
The lawyer rolled up his sleeves. “Thought I’d help move the furniture back in.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Lilah rubbed her hands together. She looked at her two grandsons. “Have you boys eaten?”
“No,” Declan and Tyler said at the same time.
“I’ll heat up dinner.” With that, Lilah scurried from the room as if she were about to feed royalty.
Justin assumed that was how the woman saw her grandchildren. He loved seeing the family dynamic between the Coles. Ever since arriving in Haley’s Bay, he hadn’t felt like hired help, which was how his parents treated him and his sisters. Not only now, but when they’d been younger, too. What Justin wouldn’t give for a family like Bailey’s...
Tyler’s gaze narrowed. He looked at Justin. “You decide to help out, too?”
The lawyer’s less-than-curious tone suggested he knew Justin was going to be here. Those old ladies spread gossip faster than bees scattered pollen in the springtime. No wonder Bailey was so worried.
He wouldn’t be deterred. “I attended the paint night, figured Lilah might need an extra hand moving tables. Didn’t realize the Cole cavalry was riding in.”
Bailey looked up from her storage. “The cavalry better be polite to the guests.”
Her words didn’t contain a warning, but a threat.
Hard-nosed and in your face, yes. But he liked that about Bailey.
Declan and Tyler exchanged a glance. Something was going on, but Justin didn’t know what.
“Want to help me carry the tables to the storage room?” Declan asked him.
Justin picked up the one closest to him. “Lead the way.”
Bailey stood. “I’ll help.”
“No,” he and Declan said at the same time.
Justin motioned to Bailey. “Sit on the bar stool and relax. You’ve been on your feet too long.”
Declan’s chin jutted forward. He pointed to Justin. “Do what he says. Or you won’t like the consequences.”
Bailey’s lips curved downward. She looked not only tired, but also fed up.
At least Justin might get out of here with his face intact. Spending an evening with Bailey and learning to paint was worth whatever happened to him. And his face.
He raised a table. “So, where do these go?”
* * *
Bailey put her paint tubes in the plastic supply box. Her foot hurt, so sitting on the floor was the best position for now. She’d caught a glimpse of Justin leaving the room from her peripheral vision. She hadn’t wanted to look at him. Not when Declan seemed ready to pounce if Justin said the wrong word. And Tyler...
She glanced at him. “Why are you really here?”
Her cousin stood over her, casting a large shadow. “Mabel Sawyer called me. Told me McMillian was getting chummy with the other co-owner of the Broughton Inn. Thought I’d want to know.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The one word spoke volumes. The kissing, the low-key flirting and her attraction to the man suddenly felt naughty and wrong.
“Why?” she asked.
“The inn.”
“Tonight had nothing to do with the inn. Mabel is the one who mentioned it. And rather rudely, if you ask me.”
“You shouldn’t be around Justin without legal counsel present. That’s me, in case you forgot.”
“I know that.”
Tyler kneeled. “You’re an attractive woman, Bay. A guy like McMillian might try to take advantage of you. Put undue influence on you to gain possession of the inn.”
Her cousin made her sound like an idiot. “I’m not some naive person, ready to be taken in by a scam artist from a developing country.”
“I know that, but the last thing you want is an impropriety. You’ve got people counting on you. Any kind of conflict of interest is going to look bad.”
“I didn’t invite him tonight. That was Aunt Ida Mae and Grandma’s doing.”
“Matchmaking?”
Bailey nodded. “Single men between the ages of twenty-five and forty seem to be her target. Justin falls squarely in that range.”
“I’ll talk to Grandma, but you can’t see Justin outside of any meetings I set up.”
She rearranged the paint tubes in the box. “We haven’t discussed the inn.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Tyler’s voice sharpened. “Got it?”
She nodded, even if her cousin’s—make that her lawyer’s request—seemed harsh. She’d wanted
distance from Justin. Looked as though she got her wish. So, why did she want another wish to come true instead?
* * *
Glong. Glong. D-ding-a-ting-glong.
The sound woke Bailey. She rubbed her eyes. The bells continued to chime. She needed to change her ring tone to something else.
Light filtered in around the window blinds. Bailey glanced at the clock—7:23 a.m. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.
Better not be Tyler again telling her to stay away from Justin McMillian as if she were sixteen. Her cousin had loaded her art supplies and driven her home before anyone returned. She hadn’t even said good-night to Grandma or to Justin.
Bailey’s family needed to get out of her personal life, the conflict of interest about the inn aside.
She glanced at her cell phone on the nightstand. No name and an unfamiliar number. The 541 area code belonged to Oregon. “Hello.”
“It’s Justin.”
Hearing his voice brought a smile to her face. Not a bad way to start her day. Except she shouldn’t care if he called or be smiling when he did, at least according to Tyler. “How did you get my number?”
“An internet search on your Chardonnay and Canvas events. Sorry to call so early, but I might know where the stray dog has been hiding.”
She sat. “Where?”
“The yard of an old deserted house on Bay Street.”
“Mr. Potter’s place. It’s been deserted since he passed fifteen years ago. His son in Boise owns the house, but he hasn’t been back to Haley’s Bay since the funeral. The overgrowth could hide a family of five.”
“Or a stray?” Justin asked.
“Definitely.”
“When I was driving home from your grandmother’s last night, I saw something—looked like the stray—dart into the yard. I stopped, but it was too dark to see anything.”
“Last night is a long time from today when you’re talking about a stray dog.”
“I know.” He hesitated. “I drove by this morning. I didn’t see him, but it’s worth taking a look.”
She glanced at the clock again. “Have you called Animal Control?”
“They haven’t had much luck, given all the sightings.”
“So, are you going to give Animal Rescue a try?”
“Thinking about it.”
She had to give him kudos, given his lack of dog experience. But she’d seen last night how much more there was to Justin McMillian. Still, she didn’t want him to fail. For the dog’s sake. “Need help?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ve never had a pet. I know dogs bark and wag their tails and shouldn’t be fed chocolate. I could use someone with dog knowledge.”
Tyler’s words about staying away from Justin echoed through Bailey’s head. But an image of the dirty, skinny dog was there, too. Right next to one of Justin.
Focus on the dog. Who had probably taken off for somewhere else by now. She bit her lip. “When?”
“Ten minutes.”
Not the answer she expected. She glanced down at her nightshirt, touched her tangled hair. But if there was any chance they could help the dog... “Sure. I’ll be ready.”
Bailey disconnected from the call. She thought about texting Tyler, but he would tell her not to go. Better to keep quiet and apologize later if someone happened to see her. She hoped no one did.
Crawling out of bed, she remembered her plan for today—painting. Oh, well...how long could catching a dog and going to the shelter take?
Chapter 8
Eleven minutes later, Justin pulled into Bailey’s driveway. He hadn’t expected her to be ready, given that she sounded as though he’d woken her up, let alone waiting for him on her front step. Yet there she was. The woman continued to surprise him.
Bailey wore a pair of faded jeans that hugged her hips. The bottom of a blue shirt hung out of her green fleece jacket. Cute. Typical Northwest attire and perfect for being outside this morning. There was no heavy coastal fog, but the temperature was cooler than yesterday when he’d gone for a run in shorts and tennis shoes.
He jumped out to open the passenger door for her. “Good morning. I swung by the Java Cup. There’s a coffee in the cab for you.”
“Thanks.”
Her lopsided ponytail bounced. She climbed into the truck. “I hope the dog didn’t wander off again.”
Her voice held a note of worry, but something else...anxiety. She sounded...impatient. He wanted to make her feel better, but a hug or another kiss seemed wrong right now.
He’d asked for her help. He didn’t want to take advantage of her.
“Me, too.” He climbed into the cab, backed the truck out of the driveway, caught a glimpse of Bailey biting her lip.
The gesture gave her up. He’d learned to read tells and Bailey was an open book. “Your foot okay?”
“Almost good as new.” No relief over her recovery showed on her face. Only worry.
He drove toward the bay. “You look...stressed.”
“I’ll feel better once we get the dog.”
The dog was a means to an end for Justin, a way of spending time with Bailey. Seeing her this morning was a great way to start his day. Maybe they could grab breakfast after they took care of the dog.
“There is something you should know.” She picked up her coffee from the truck’s drink holder. “Tyler told me not to see you without legal counsel present. That means him.”
Justin tightened his fingers around the steering wheel.
“He’s concerned about a conflict of interest and jeopardizing the inn,” she added.
“Seems strange he didn’t say this before.”
“Mabel contacted him after the paint night.”
“I remember Mabel.”
Bailey flicked her fingernail against the cup’s sleeve. “I’m sure you do.”
“Mabel has a reason to be upset. I get that.”
She looked at him. “You do?”
“Yeah. Usually by the time I start working on a place, time has passed. Employees are long gone. But jobs are difficult to find these days. No one wants to see loved ones out of work.”
He sure didn’t. But the longer the question of the inn’s ownership dragged on, being fired by his parents seemed more likely. His mom and dad were the dream destroyers. Or would be when the pink slips got handed out.
Once the company was sold, Justin had no doubt his sisters would move to bigger cities with more job opportunities. Portland, Seattle, maybe San Francisco. He’d never see them or his parents, who wanted to spend their retirement traveling the globe. All would leave Lincoln City without a glance back, the way Taryn had left.
Not Justin. He might not have a hometown where he grew up, but he considered the entire coast home. He wasn’t leaving. He’d find a way to keep his family together and show them work wasn’t everything. Maybe they could be more like the Coles, watching Sunday football games and eating dinner.
If only they could locate Floyd Jeffries... But the man seemed to have disappeared. No sign of him, his shady girlfriend or the money. Private investigators were searching, and half-jokingly said the pair was probably on some tropical island sipping cocktails.
“Mabel shouldn’t have run to Tyler like a tattletale.”
“So I shouldn’t call Tyler and tell him you’re with me?”
Bailey tightened her ponytail. “This is about the stray dog, not the inn.”
Yes, but her hunched shoulders weren’t normal. Everything from her facial expression to her posture looked off. “I know your family means a lot to you. I don’t want to make this harder on you. Let’s agree not to mention the I-N-N, okay?”
“Sounds good.” She took a sip of the coffee. “This hits the spot.”
“I’m on my second cup.” He’d needed more caffeine. He hadn’t slept well.
Too much thinking about Bailey and painting.
He parked his truck in front of 717 Bay Street. Weeds and twenty-five-foot-tall overgrowth hid whatever house might be on the property. “Ready to go dog-hunting?”
Bailey placed her coffee back in the cup holder. She pulled two plastic baggies from her jacket pocket and handed one to Justin. “I watch Declan’s dog, Chinook, when he goes out of town. I brought some of her treats for the stray.”
Justin tucked the bag into his pocket. “I knew I called the right person.”
“I’m guessing I was your only choice.”
“There was Animal Control, but you’re cuter.”
She smiled, unbuckled her seat belt. “Cuter or not, don’t know that we’ll have better luck than them.”
“They look for lots of animals. We only need to find one.”
A twisted gate hung on one hinge barely attached to a dilapidated, fence post with its paint peeling. Two-thirds of the fence was cracked or missing. What once was lawn gave way to a jungle of huge shrubbery, a mix of green and brown, up to his neck.
“Can’t imagine anyone wanting to live here,” he said.
“Some animals don’t have a choice. They have nowhere to go. Every day is a fight to find food to eat and survive. Chinook was a rescue dog living in a hoarder situation, but you’d never know it looking at her now.”
By the time Justin rounded the truck to help Bailey from the cab, she was already at the gate. She gave a push.
The hinge creaked.
She jerked her hand away, looked at him. “I can’t believe the gate didn’t fall off.”
“Failure looks imminent.”
“The gate, yes. Too soon to know about the dog.” Bailey stepped through, her feet tromping on weeds providing a strange backdrop, but she looked beautiful in the morning light. “Here we are. Two enemies blazing a trail like Lewis and Clark.”
“I’d say we’re more like frenemies.”
“I can go with that.”
She tripped on a root but caught herself before he could act. His smile faded at the missed chance to touch her.
“Be careful,” he warned.
“I’m trying, but this place is a jungle.” She headed toward the left. “If I remember correctly, the backyard is this way.”
Falling for Mr. Right: Still the One ; His Proposal, Their Forever Page 31