Even the idiom caused a churning nausea in his gut, for it reminded him of Bailey, and that was a name he wanted to forget.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bailey and Marcel had only been at the festival a short time when she asked to return home. It was early evening, but she was exhausted from lack of sleep, and with the fact that her body was assiduously growing a baby, she felt close to passing out from fatigue.
That morning, bright and early, she’d gone out and purchased a different brand pregnancy test from a different pharmacy. After taking the test again, she discovered that she should never play the lottery. If she didn’t have bad luck, she had no luck. Not only was she not part of the one percent of false positives, she was without a doubt pregnant, without the father around, and unemployed. Ugh.
She had enjoyed spending a little time with Marcel. It was as if they’d picked up right from where they had left off six years ago, excluding the boyfriend-girlfriend part. She liked Marcel, but not enough to consider anything more than friends. The whole baby on board pretty much sealed that door anyway.
The entire day, Marcel was behaving as though there had never been a break up—showering her with affectionate touches and playful tickles behind the ear. It was what he used to do when they dated because he knew she was sensitive there.
They ran into several couples from high school at the festival, and all assumed by Marcel’s touchy-feely behavior that they were back together.
Bailey glimpsed over at him in the driver’s seat, and his head turned to her wearing a smile that had been affixed to his face all day. I have to put a stop to this. Her weary sigh came out a bit louder than she’d intended.
Attuned to even her slightest gesture, he looked over and took hold of her hand that rested on her lap, his fingers stroking her palm. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
There it is again, touchy-feely. She subtly pulled her hand free from his and pretended to fix her braid, with a look at him. “I hope you’re okay with me wanting to call it a day so early. I know how much you look forward to the fireworks. I’m simply exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“It’s cool. You’re not sleeping? Should you see a doctor?”
Yes, but not for the reason you think. “A good night’s sleep is all I need. I plan to turn in early tonight. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.”
They pulled up to her house just as Caleb climbed off his motorcycle and headed inside.
Marcel took her hand in his again, affection glowing in his dark eyes. “Bails, I really enjoyed being with you today. I’m glad you’re back. I hope we can spend more time together like this.”
Bailey didn’t want to hurt him ... again, but she couldn’t let him think that they were getting back together. “I enjoyed spending the day with you, too. It was nice seeing so many of our old friends.” She sighed lightly. “But, Marcel, we—” He brought the back of her hand to his lips. Dear God! “Marcel—”
“Bailey, I won’t pretend. I would like us to reacquaint, but I know it’s too soon.”
“Marcel, I—”
“Bails, you’re tired. We can talk more tomorrow.” He palmed her cheek and leaned in, aiming to kiss her mouth, but she turned her head. The fluttering look of surprise in her eyes brought the atmosphere between them to an awkward pause, then he said, “Let me get you inside.”
What the ... he tried to kiss me! She had to put a stop to this, but she was too drained to deal with it right then, intending to make things quite clear with him tomorrow.
Exiting the car, they made their way to the porch. Her parents’ raised voices drew her to a halt. It was rare that they fought. The last time she could recall was when she’d decided to go away to college. Her dad was dead set against it, while her mom, though she would have preferred Bailey to stay in-state, had resigned herself to Bailey’s decision.
They entered the house just as Caleb strolled into the living room carrying a plate of sandwiches piled high and a full glass of lemonade. As her mom and dad sat in the twin armchairs facing one another caught in a heated quarrel with the rectangle coffee table acting as their buffer, Caleb took a seat on the sofa between them and quickly started in on sandwich number one seeming without a care in the world. Listening to them, from what Bailey could tell, their fight was about her.
“Nena, enough on the matter! I’ve said all there is to say!” Her dad gestured a hand over to her and Marcel. “That right there is what’s best for Bailey.”
“You can’t control her life, Charlie! Once you get that through your thick skull, you’ll be happier for it!” Her mom’s eyes met hers, then narrowed back on her dad. “It’s not your decision anyway.”
“What’s going on?” Bailey looked between her parents for an answer, but Caleb piped up instead.
“They’re arguing about you.”
“I gathered that, Sherlock.” She smacked her brother on the back of his head. He hardly flinched and took another large bite out of his sandwich.
“You two are back early.” Charles glanced at his watch. “It’s barely five o’clock. You’ll miss out on a good spot for the fireworks.”
“It’s hot, and I’m tired,” Bailey said and then asked again, “What’s going on?” She looked at her mom when her lips pursed to speak, but her dad interrupted.
“How about you two sit and watch a movie,” he suggested. “I’ve seen Caleb rent them right on the TV somehow. Don’t you, Caleb?”
Caleb finished off his first sandwich and immediately started in on his second. With his mouth stuffed, he garbled out, “From what I could get, your dude showed up, and Dad told him you were out on a date. No offense, Marcel,” he voiced nonchalantly and took another large bite of his sandwich without ever actually looking at the man.
“Caleb, shut up!” Charles exclaimed irritably.
“What!” Bailey’s head swung over to her mom. “Lucas? He was here? When?”
“About a half hour ago.” Her mom rose and pulled a card from her pocket. She met Marcel’s disconcerted gaze as she handed it over. “He asked that I give you this.”
It was his white business card. Bailey turned the card over and read the hotel information he’d written on the back. She was completely thunderstruck that Lucas had actually come to Darlington. He was told that I was on a date.
“I have to go.” She spoke to no one in particular, her heart racing, her brain in disarray. “Mom, I need your keys!”
Nena went off to the kitchen.
Charles shook his head and stood up. “Bailey, don’t do this. You’re making a mistake here.” He pointed at Marcel. “He’s a good man who cares about you. He didn’t hesitate when I phoned to tell him you were stuck out on the side of the road.”
“You knew there was a problem with that truck?” Bailey’s eyes narrowed at the infuriating man. “You set the whole thing up, didn’t you?”
“Well hell, you’d been home a month and didn’t bother calling him. When I phoned to tell Marcel you were back, he was eager to see you.”
“Mr. Walters—” Marcel paused at Bailey’s light touch of his arm.
She looked up at him and could see he knew what she was about to say. They’d been here in this moment six years ago. She didn’t want to hurt him, but what choice did she have? “I’m sorry. I’m in love with him.”
“Here you go.” Her mom attempted to give her the keys to her Subaru, but her dad snatched them from her hand. “What are you doing? Give Bailey those keys.”
“No!” he bellowed. “I seem to be the only one with some sense around here! She’s not going!”
“Have you gone mad!” Her mom’s voice scraped up sharply. “Give Bailey those keys this instant!”
“Dad, give me the keys. Lucas could leave before I get a chance to see him.”
“Let him go!” he barked and stuck the keys in his pocket.
“I’m carrying his child, damn it!”
“Sweet Jesus!” Her dad clutched his chest and stumbled
back against the chair behind him, swaying as though he was caught in a spinning pinwheel.
Okay, that’s not quite how I wanted to tell him. Quickly taking stock of everyone, Caleb was laughing hysterically to near choking at the sight of their dad standing with his mouth frozen open and his eyes stretched wide as though he’d witnessed something horrific. Her mom simply nodded, her behavior suggested not at all surprised. Bailey wondered if Caleb told her about the pregnancy. And Marcel ... the poor man’s reaction practically mirrored her dad’s. Right now, Bailey didn’t have time to deal with any of them. She needed to get to the hotel before Lucas left ... if he hadn’t already.
In a state of panic, she looked at Marcel. No way. It wouldn’t help her if Lucas saw them together. Spotting Caleb’s motorcycle helmet sitting next to him on the sofa, she snatched it up, and raced to the door.
Caleb jumped up. “Where do you think you’re going with that?”
“I’m taking your bike.” She pushed open the storm door and rushed out.
Nena yelled in alarm, “No, Bailey, you’re not! Charlie, give her the keys now!”
“Mom, I got it.” Caleb fished in his pocket and pulled out his keys. “She can’t go anywhere without these.” He went after her. “Bailey, I’ll take you,” he hollered on his way out.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Caleb pulled into a vacant spot. Bailey leaped off the bike and tossed him the helmet before he could properly set the brake. “Bailey, wait! What room is it?” he shouted as she took off at a mad dash across the parking lot.
“Fifteen twelve,” she yelled back. As she passed through the automatic doors, she faintly heard Caleb reply, “If I don’t hear from you in thirty minutes, I’m coming up.”
She ran as fast as her flip-flops would allow, hurrying past annoyed hotel guests that frowned at her when she nearly mowed them down. There were those that stared at her inquisitively as she picked up the pace when she saw the elevator doors slowly closing.
“Hold the elevator!” she yelled and leaped inside where, thankfully, a man with his young son, held his thumb on the Open button. “Thank you.” Working to catch her breath, she exhaled and tried to smile appreciatively at the man’s nod while holding on tight to the safety rail behind her for support.
“What floor?”
Bailey blinked out of her thoughts and looked at the man and his son. Both were staring at her. “Oh, sorry. Fifteen. Thanks.” Eyes close, she inhaled slowly through her nose and released just as slow to calm her pulse in order to focus.
“Top floor. How do you like the suites here?”
Again, she looked at the pair still staring at her. She was trying to run through what she would say to Lucas in her head, but the man interrupted her mental dialogue. “I’ve never been inside. I’m visiting ... a friend.”
He gave her a once over. She nervously looked away and subtly brushed back the wayward hairs out of her face. Catching her reflection in the shiny brass doors, her hair was a mess from wearing Caleb’s helmet. Her face was flushed from both the ride over and the heightened anxiety she felt. She was so nervous over the possibility of seeing Lucas, that butterflies cluttered her stomach to the point she felt she might hurl.
The elevator opened on the sixth floor and the man and his son stepped out. From there, she managed to get to the fifteenth floor uninterrupted.
She jogged down the hall, reading the numbers on the doors as she went, and got to the end of the corridor. The plaque on the wall in front of her read, Room Suites 1511 – 1512, arrows pointing left and right, respectively. Turning right, she rushed the short distance and stood before Lucas’s door, trying her best to regulate her racing heartbeat. Circulating a refueling breath through her lungs, she exhaled deeply and delivered a firm knock on the door.
Please be here.
• • •
Lucas stepped out of the bathroom with his towel wrapped at his waist. Looking around the so-called suite that wasn’t even as big as the great room in his home, he sighed heavily and shook his head, disgusted with himself. I’m a damn fool. What the hell was I thinking coming here? The deal he’d made with Sienna was wrong, yes, but with the ease in how Bailey cut things off and then moved on, she was clearly never really into him.
In a hurry to be done with the damn place, he went over to the nightstand for his cell phone to contact his pilot. As he waited for the line to answer, he moved to the sofa and rummaged through his duffel bag for socks and underwear. His hand hit the Tiffany box buried at the bottom. Taking it out, he flipped open the case and stared at the glittering jewels, reminded of the meticulous effort he’d taken in picking the set for her. His pilot came on the line. “Expect to depart in thirty ... shit ... when? Fine,” he said and ended the call after his pilot explained that he wouldn’t have clearance for another hour.
He closed the case, tossed it back inside his bag, sat down on the sofa, and stared out the window across the room at the cloudless, dusky sky.
She’s on a date. Those words were playing on a loop in his head. Minutes ticked by with him sitting there staring through the glass pane as the reel replayed over and over, a constant reminder of just how much of a fool he’d been. Weeks of sleepless nights thinking about her—dreaming—wanting—needing—loving her. He blinked and touched his chin. His fingertips came back wet with his tears. For long minutes, he owned the emotion that took hold of him and allowed himself to release the anguish ripping him up inside. Then, taking in a renewed breath, he exhaled, ran a hand down his face, and rose to his feet to get dressed and get gone, erase her, consider her a glitch in his life’s timeline.
He went to the bathroom and washed his face, then returned to get himself dressed. As he reached into his garment bag for his jeans, there was a knock at the door. He went over and opened it a crack. “Ye—” His eyes fluttered for a moment as his brain worked rapidly to untangle the image to register who was before him. She was the last person he’d expected to see. Pulling himself together, he widened the door open without saying a word, simply stared at her flushed face and the wild curls framing her face, some slick at her temples from perspiration. Her long braid that was draped over her right shoulder was half undone.
His anger revved up with clenched jaws at seeing her dressed in a strapless, powder blue cotton sundress, knowing that she’d been out on a date. If that wasn’t enough, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. The gathered elastic bodice of the dress skillfully showcased her perked nipples and outlined the shape of her plump breasts that kept pace with her rapid breathing, in and out, up and down they went.
She chewed her bottom lip in that cute, sexy way she did when she was nervous, unaware of how much of a turn on it was for him. His attraction to her fueled his rage even more. He struggled with wanting to gaze upon her beauty—he loved and missed her so damn much—and wanting to slam the door in her face—in that moment, he hated her just as much.
• • •
Bailey’s eyes fell upon the hard, sculptured pecs and taut abs that greeted her. She forced her eyes up from his magnificent corded physique and swallowed anxiously when she met his fixed glare. He stood there not saying anything, yet saying a mouthful.
“My ... my mom told me you were here.” She held up his card, to which he said nothing. “May I come in?” There seemed to be a moment of contemplation before he stepped aside, closed the door and walked past her to the sofa, hardly acknowledging her presence. Her gaze was drawn to the perfect shape of his tight buttocks in the towel and on up his strong, broad back. How many nights had she dreamed of being molded to his beautiful body? Virtually every night.
She watched as he pulled out a pair of dark jeans from his garment bag and laid them out across the sofa, all without speaking a word.
“Sienna told me you had my car repaired. Thank you. I’ll find a way to pay you back.” No reply. “I was hoping we could talk.” He still hadn’t responded to anything she said. “Lucas?” Finally, he turned around. She could almost taste
the raw loathing permeating off him. “Can we talk?” she asked, and instantly his blue-gray eyes darkened to a sea storm of menace.
“Now you want to talk? What is there to talk about? Tell me because from where I stand where you’re concerned, there’s absolutely nothing.”
Bailey flinched at his cold demeanor. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.”
“You’re sorry.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“I should have talked things over with you like you wanted. I was upset with Faith and Kevin—” She gasped low on a tremble when he actually growled and took a threatening step toward her. “I made a mistake.”
“You made a mistake?” A rough chuckle again with lips tight. “Where were you today? Out on a date. I suppose you’re going to tell me he was just a friend. Is he another friend of yours, Bailey?”
Bailey hesitantly nodded, and his nostrils flared. “I only went out with him because my dad pushed it.”
“That’s rich. Good one, Bailey,” he bit out. “I’m the one who made a mistake by coming here. I’ve been beating myself up for weeks over what I did. I desperately wanted your forgiveness. I didn’t bother you these past weeks to give you the space you wanted. The closest private landing strip is here in Florence. You know what I thought about during that thirty-minute drive to you? I kept trying to think of what I would say to convince you to trust me, come back to me ... want me as much as I wanted you, but you’ve already moved on to the next unsuspecting fool haven’t you, Bailey. That poor chump is like Kevin and me. We’re all mere puppets in this game of yours, drawn in by your allure, your beauty,” he rambled in obvious hurt and anger.
Seeing the fury in his narrowed gaze, mirroring those emotions, she argued, “You ended us, not me.”
“That made it easy for you, didn’t it? What is it you get out of it? Do you get some sort of perverted pleasure out of tormenting men?” He ignored her rapid shake of her head and the easy flow of her tears. “It’s you who take all and give nothing back. I was a fool for wanting you so damn badly. I guess the joke’s on me.”
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