by Haley Travis
She was busily tucking extra napkins and a little container of butter into the side of the box. “Do you want plastic knives or–”
“No, thanks, we have cutlery there.”
“Good, thanks. Um, I guess I started baking when I was six or seven. Whenever I visited with my grandmother, it was my job to grease the pans, stir the mixes, and help design the flavors.” She laughed suddenly. “I swear, I’m pretty sure that I was good at math in school because I already knew fractions thanks to converting recipes to different amounts.”
I laughed with her. “I remember when I was in high school we always wondered why the guys in the black leather jackets were good at fractions. I was too much of a nerd to realize they were the drug dealers.”
Bailey laughed with me, but I couldn’t help noticing that slight tension in her eyes that seemed to come and go.
As she rang up my order, I pulled out my wallet, seeing an empty slot where my credit card was supposed to be.
“Dammit,” I muttered. She raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I’m so sorry. I gave my card to Kate yesterday when she was doing some bulk ordering for everyone.”
Bailey held up her hands. “You can pay me later. I’m pretty sure I know where you work, so I could track you down quite easily.”
“I really don’t want you to think that I’m a deadbeat,” I said. “I’ll come back this afternoon, okay?”
“That’s perfect, actually,” she said with a sweet grin that made me want to reach out to her. “I’m doing more flavor experiments around five, and need a second opinion.”
“Excellent. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a cookie flavor expert.”
“Oh no,” she said very seriously. “We’re moving you up to the next round. Tarts.”
I nodded. “I’m truly touched that you would entrust this great honor to me. I hope that I don’t let you down.”
She came around to the side of the counter, standing beside me a bit closer than I expected as she looked up at me. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you get this a lot, but seriously, how tall are you?”
I shook my head. “Miss, that is a serious violation of my privacy. Those of us who are six foot four hate it when – oh crap.”
“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I’ve just never seen a guy that big who laughs as much as you do.”
“It’s all the steroids,” I said, squinting my eyes and glancing side to side shiftily. “They make me giddy.”
She doubled over laughing, placing her hand on mine on the counter as if we were old friends. Or was she flirting with me? I don’t think she realized she even did it, as she pulled her hand away quickly. But that simple touch made my heart skip a beat, as it clearly said that she was comfortable with me. No matter what the context, there was some sort of connection between us.
“Thank you for assisting me in my first ever theft,” I said, picking up the boxes.
Bailey crinkled her nose, then spun as the little bell over the door tinkled. Turning back to me, she said, “I’ll see you this afternoon. Five-ish?”
She was looking forward to seeing me again. It was right there in her eyes. Grinning, I nodded and turned, clearing the way for three high school students intent on destroying their afternoon focus with an influx of sugar.
On the way back to work, I admired the strange old buildings, and the unusual mix of businesses on this street.
It was nice working in a somewhat normal neighborhood. I had been so relieved when I was reassigned to the east end. Working up in Rose Hill for a few years had made me sick to death of the whiny voices of rich women complaining. It was truly unbelievable what they deemed worthy of summoning the police.
A neighbor’s dog shat on their lawn. The housekeeper took a swig of the good vodka. Their gardener pruned back their roses too much. Those privileged princesses had us running to their mansions so frequently that it was making me seriously wonder how their husbands could stand them.
My last girlfriend Ashley was a demanding, spoiled brat, and I suppose it was my fault for staying with someone who behaved that badly. I tried to tell myself it was because she was so damn sexy that I wanted her, but that actually wasn’t the case. She wasn’t hot. She wasn’t interesting. She wasn’t kind. But she was there for me in a time when I couldn’t stand being alone.
Then she suddenly crossed a series of lines, which reflected badly on me, but also simply sickened me. Stupid little things like scamming salespeople for freebies, and lying about her birthday for free drinks at pubs.
There was no way that a police officer should be seen on the wrong side of the law, even for something so petty. I put my career first, always. I’d told her that from the start. So I had to wonder if she had done those things on purpose because she didn’t have the guts to end our relationship.
After leaving her and moving to the east end, a transfer to my new neighborhood was a huge relief. It was quiet, almost tranquil. It had a small-town vibe, even though it was on the subway line, and only twenty minutes from downtown Toronto.
I thought that I’d be able to walk around the farmer’s market, wave to little kids, and constantly ticket idiots who drove like demons on the sleepy residential streets.
I could barely focus through the meeting, finding myself thinking about the fascinating flavors of the snacks. All afternoon, I found myself watching the clock, waiting for my shift to end. Coworkers occasionally appeared with a muffin or donut, and I instantly knew where’d they’d been.
Many people in the area were dropping by the new bakery, and I could see why. It was a great little mental break when you needed to recharge.
It was time for me to recharge my entire life, and take the plunge of attempting a new relationship. When I finally clocked out, I told myself that asking Bailey out for dinner was the only logical thing for me to do.
As I walked across the street and past the window of the candy-colored shop, I told myself I was an ass for being so nervous. Men asked women out all the time. And if she said no, I’ll just make a lighthearted joke and we’ll stay flirty acquaintances. No problem.
Except that I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and was bordering on becoming seriously obsessed already. The more I thought about her, the more I realized she was utterly perfect for me. I needed to find a way to connect with her immediately so that she didn’t end up dating someone else before giving me a chance.
“Hey Bailey,” I called out as I entered the bakery. It was eerily quiet as soon as the chime from the bell over the door died out. “Hello? Your deadbeat customer has come to pay up.”
There was no answer, but the door had been unlocked, so the shop must still be open. Hoping that I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries, I headed for the back. My heart was in my throat as I turned the corner around the counter, trying to look casual as I walked into the kitchen area. Asking a girl out was normal. Having dinner was normal. All I had to do is be brave, I told myself as I plastered on a smile.
And looked down to see Bailey in a pool of blood.
My own blood was suddenly thick, icy, and immobile. Seconds count in a crisis. This was not the time to freeze.
I’d trained for this. I’d thrown my partner into the backseat with a gashed shoulder and a fractured ankle. I’d broken up fights that would shatter a normal person. But now it was my turn to nearly shatter. Oh god, Bailey...
I called in while dropping to my knees, tapping her cheek, checking her pulse. It was weak, but there. She was breathing. Her skin was cool, so she may have been here a while. A puddle of some dark red sauce was on the floor, even darker than her blood – oh Jesus, that was too much of her blood. A huge knife. A gash on her left forearm, thankfully above the wrist, but it definitely nicked a vein.
Ripping my shirt off, I yelled directions at the phone while tearing strips of fabric to make a tourniquet. The operator assured me medics would arrive in minutes but Bailey wasn’t moving. I tied her arm off tightly, applying pressure carefully while raising it as high as I could. “Baile
y,” I called to her gently through whatever fog she was in. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered and I was almost relieved for a second. Seconds ticked, as I mentally screamed for the ambulance, anybody better qualified to get here.
“What...” Her eyes opened as if for the first time in years.
“Look at me, Bailey. Lock onto my eyes and don’t look around, okay? Can you tell me what happened?” She began to look down to her arm, but I barked, “At me. Do not take your eyes from my face.”
It seemed like it was hard for her to focus. “Bailey, did somebody do this to you?” Never in my life would I hope that somebody had an accident, but it was better than the thought that she may have been attacked.
“I fell,” she said simply, her voice delicate and tiny. “I never fall. Why are...” She stared at my bare chest, my wide shoulders, her other hand twitching as if she wanted to touch me. “Wow.”
“Does your head hurt? Did you hit it?”
“I don’t know,” she said woozily. “Why is there cherry sauce on your hands?”
“It’s just a little blood, sweetie,” I said as gently as I could with my damn gruff voice. “We’re going to get you to a hospital for a few tiny stitches then you’ll be fine, okay?”
She tried to flinch backward into the dark tile floor, every muscle twitching as fresh blood began seeping between my fingers right through the strips of shirt fabric. “No, no needles,” she squealed.
“Okay,” I said quickly, lying shamelessly. “No needles. They can just clean and bandage it then. That will do the trick.”
She nodded, staring at me oddly. “Your eyes aren’t just light brown. They have – it’s like a little ring of orange around the pupil.”
“They call it a sunburst,” I said, glad that she was distracted by my weird irises. Her eyes went unfocused for a moment, lowering slightly. “Bailey, look at me. Only at me.”
“I’m looking,” she said, then she half giggled. “You’re gorgeous. Damn, where were you hiding that chest? It’s like... Wow. It’s everywhere.”
I flashed her a grin, trying to keep her talking. “I’m sorry you fell, but you’re going to be fine. The paramedics are coming to help us, okay? They’ll be here any second.”
Her lips quivered, near tears. “I’m not allowed to fall. Daddy said if you get hurt, you can’t run fast. The most important thing is to be able to run away fast.”
“Shh,” I murmured, “It’s okay. I think everyone gets hurt once in a while. You’ll be patched up soon.” Then I heard the bell tinkle over the front door. “Back here,” I yelled, and was relieved to see Christine and Gary, our two best medics come around the corner.
“Bailey slipped and gashed her arm with a knife,” I said quickly, “And she’s needle-phobic.”
“Hi there, Bailey,” Gary said gently, whipping out a tiny flashlight to check her pupils while Christine checked her pulse. “Did you hit your head, do you think?”
She turned it side to side slowly. “I don’t think so. I think I sort of crumpled instead of–” Her head turned to see me handing her blood-soaked arm to Christine, and the scream that rang through the air almost made me want to openly sob for the first time since the second grade when Marcy stabbed my hand with a pencil.
Bailey grabbed frantically for me with her right hand, her eyes wild until I squeezed it tight. I didn’t let go of her hand in the ambulance, whispering to her about donut flavors to calm her during the ride. For the first time in my life I used my police status slightly unfairly to make sure she was seen at the hospital as quickly as humanly possible.
She hovered in and out of consciousness. Everyone assured me that she’d be fine, and that it was panic more than the blood loss that was making her weak.
But she was chilly, and knowing that she’d be getting stitches against her will made my jaw clench so hard I was grinding my teeth while pacing in the hallway. I didn’t like leaving her with strangers, which was illogical, but they were likely putting her in a gown and scrubbing her up.
Doctor Clements stuck his head out into the hallway, looking for me. “Since you’re hanging around, we might need you to help restrain her.” I rushed in to see her slumped in a green gown in a wheelchair, looking so weak I wanted to punch something. My unfocused anger was unnerving, but I was upset that this sweet girl was in pain.
“No needles,” Bailey announced, sitting up, clear for just a moment.
The doctor looked from her to me. “We’re jammed tonight, and if we need to clear a room to knock her out, it will take a lot longer. Can you hold her?” He leaned in to whisper to me, “The needles to numb her arm are tiny.”
“Yes,” I said, trying to figure out what to do. They began to transfer her from a wheelchair to a cot, but I got up on the bed first, leaning my back against the wall. “Put her in my arms and I’ll hold her still,” I said. She seemed to relax, resting her back against my chest.
As they stretched out her left arm on a padded wheeled table, I pinned it firmly, and turned Bailey’s face to the right, tipping her chin up. “Look at me,” I said gently. “They’re just going to clean you up, okay? You can totally ignore them. Just talk to me.”
“You wrecked your uniform shirt to tie up my arm,” she said, on the verge of either laughing or passing out. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” I said. “But that shirt was getting old, so that’s okay.” Watching the doctor prep the needle, a nurse gently held down her wrist. “Hey, there are mosquitoes in here,” I whispered into her ear. “I just got stung.”
Her wide blue eyes were so trusting that lying to her, even a stupid lie for a good cause, almost made me queasy. “Really?” She tried to look around, but I curled my right hand around her head, holding her so that she couldn’t accidentally glance to the left. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I got stung too.”
“It will likely only be a few times,” I said gently.
It seemed that the first needle was all it took for the rest of the numbing needles to go unnoticed. But it was soon time for the stitches. “Bailey, I’m going to hum you to sleep now, okay?”
She nodded, cuddling against me in a way that made me want to stay here with my arms around her forever. Her skin smelled like her sweetness was too intense for her body to contain it. Her cheek on my bare chest made me realize I wasn’t even embarrassed to be shirtless in a professional setting. The way I was holding her certainly wasn’t normal, but nobody seemed to care as long as they could do their jobs.
Realizing that the staff likely assumed I was her boyfriend made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t being inappropriate, just very familiar. It didn’t quite sit right, but keeping her calm and still was the most important thing right now.
Bailey genuinely seemed comforted by the close contact. But there was something else. The way she instinctively curled into me made me wonder if she’d been craving someone’s touch. If she’d been alone for a long time. There was something in the way she clung to me almost desperately that tugged at my heart.
Placing my hand over her ear, I began humming gently so that she couldn’t hear them stitching her up, or talk about waiting until they were done to put in an IV. Her breathing became soft and regular, and the thought of perhaps waking up beside her someday made me feel a surge of longing I didn’t even know I possessed.
She stayed out while they finished up, then the doctor whispered to me, “Did you see how much blood she lost?”
“Maybe a pint, I think,” I mouthed. The nurse pointed to the IV bag. When she gestured to indicate a pint, I nodded, trying to visualize how much blood was on the floor, while my stomach clenched at the mental picture. They checked her blood pressure again while she moaned in my arms from the tension of the arm cuff.
“Okay, she’s a lot better now that she’s calm. She doesn’t need a transfusion for this sort of blood loss, especially since she has no medical records. She’s a healthy young thing,” the doctor said quietly. The nurse put in the IV and Bailey barely move
d.
The doctor rushed off while the nurse tucked a blanket around her. “Now, do you want help getting out from under her?” she asked gently, trying not to laugh.
Bailey moved slightly, and I instantly gripped her right arm when she tried to shift it. “Maybe I should stay here a bit,” I whispered.
The nurse nodded. “Poor little dear. If you’re comfortable and don’t mind staying for a while, she could likely use a solid nap with you holding her steady. Hit the buzzer behind you if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I breathed.
As soon as we were alone, my grip around her arm, resting one hand on her stomach, felt like it turned from restraint to snuggling even though I didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t help it. Having a girl this beautiful in my arms made my protective and romantic instincts go into overdrive. If holding her and being still so that she could rest safely would help her to heal, I had all night.
About an hour later, I was nearly dozing off when I heard a tiny gasp.
“Shh, Bailey, you’re okay,” I whispered.
She craned her head to look up at me then smiled, her soft eyes turning my insides to pie filling. “Oh. Hi,” she whispered. Then she rubbed her cheek against my chest. “Your skin is so nice and warm,” she murmured. “Cuddly tough guy.”
“Yeah, I’m just an oversized teddy bear,” I said gently.
“You’re a nice man. I didn’t quite believe there were any. But here you are,” Bailey whispered. She shifted her shoulder, her lips against the center of my chest, then she kissed my skin. Her eyelashes fluttered, then she did it again, holding her lips against my flesh for several seconds. “Mmm,” she sighed, her breathing becoming deep and soft again.
My lips brushed against the top of her hair, unable to resist kissing her back in some tiny way.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Good morning, honey. How are you feeling today?” A soft Jamaican accent made my eyelids flutter open reluctantly. Warm brown eyes were smiling down at me with a motherly keen gaze, analyzing my reactions.
