Falling for Mr. Right: Still the One ; His Proposal, Their Forever

by Michelle Major

  “You don’t scare me.” He hadn’t meant to flirt with her. Maybe she didn’t notice. “I’ll help you to your car, then come back for your artwork.”

  Her wary look changed to resignation. “I can carry a painting.”

  “It would be easier if I carry you.”

  Bailey might be on the fashion police’s Most Wanted List, but if he got to carry her out of the inn, this day would rank up there with a Seattle Seahawks’ Super Bowl win.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  Chapter 3

  So much for carrying Bailey.

  Outside the inn, Justin adjusted his grip on her framed painting. Plastic wrap crinkled beneath his fingertips. He could tell this piece meant more to her than the others, so he would be extra careful. But the woman herself...

  He should have known better than to get worked up over her.

  Passionate, yes, but stubborn to the nth degree.

  He’d offered to carry Bailey to the car, then go back for the artwork. She hadn’t wanted to do that. He’d then suggested getting her car and picking her up in front of the inn. She’d said no again. Mules had more sense than Bailey Cole.

  She moved at a snail-pace wobble, her steps unsteady on the wet sidewalk. Any second, she might go down and hit the concrete. She would probably want him to let her fall than risk damaging her art.

  She might be one of the most annoying women he’d ever met, but she worried him. “You okay?”

  Bailey shot Justin a glare, one he’d become familiar over the past few hours. Her lips should thin in three...two...one...

  And they disappeared. A line of chalk was thicker than her mouth. As easy to read as the Sunday comics. Too bad her lone-wolf act didn’t make her curves less appealing.

  “I told you.” Her know-it-all voice grated on his back teeth. “I’m fine.”

  Sure she was. And he had complete control of the Broughton Inn project. What a pair they were. Well, a pair for however long this situation took to get resolved.

  He supported the canvas between his far arm and body, in case she needed help. “You’re back to looking like you’re going to fall over.”

  “You have bigger things to worry about than me.”

  True, but he needed to get rid of her before he could deal with the rest of the mess. “Until I get you home, you’re my biggest concern.”

  “It won’t be for much longer. Five-minute drive, max. I’ll be home long before I come close to losing it.”

  Whoa. His gaze ran the length of her. Maybe he hadn’t figured her out. “Did you just admit you’re on the verge of a meltdown?”

  She didn’t shrug or shake her head. “Maybe.”

  That was more than he thought she’d admit. Bailey Cole had ruined his day, but given her injury, she was a trooper—make that a general—who had defeated him. He couldn’t wait for a rematch and to come out on top. Still Justin had a strange desire to comfort her, a feeling not only due to her killer curves.

  She shortened her stride again. “If you don’t mind adding a couple of minutes onto the drive to my house, I’d be grateful if you swung by the Burger Boat.”

  “They sell burgers on a boat?” he asked.

  “Nope. Local fast food place. On land, not water. They have a drive-through, so we won’t have to get out of the car. Not that I could.” She glanced at her foot with a want-to-start-the-day-over look. “But it’s past lunchtime. I’m starving and my cupboards are bare.”

  Her words reminded him of the “Old Mother Hubbard” nursery rhyme. Not that they had a dog to feed. Thank goodness the mutt was gone.

  Thinking about a rhyme should seem odd, but wasn’t given the way she was dressed and how strange today had been. “No eating. No food at home. You don’t take very good care of yourself, Miss Cole.”

  “I take good care of myself.” Her tone was an interesting mix—defensive and honest. She inched toward the curb. Exhaustion creased her face. “Except when I’m wrapped up in a project. Then my plans, like grocery shopping, get pushed aside. Most days bring a surprise or two.”

  Surprises, indeed. She’d surprised him.

  “You might find a healthy meal and sleep a boon to your creativity.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said.

  “I was trying to be polite.”

  “You sound annoyed.”

  “I’m that, too.”

  “Because you’re hungry.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “A burger sounds good. I need to pick up lunch because Wyatt gave the dog my turkey sandwich.”

  Bailey stopped. “Where is the dog?”

  “No idea. Dined and dashed. Probably headed home.”

  A look of concern returned to her face. “He could be a stray.”

  Nope. Justin wasn’t going there. She might want to drive around and try to find the damn thing. Then they’d have to call Animal Control and wait. Again. He’d wasted his morning. He wasn’t about to lose the entire day.

  Time to change the subject. “Which car is yours?”

  She pointed toward a four-door hatchback with a bright yellow exterior and black upholstered seats parked on the street.

  “Looks like a bee.” Tiny cars were annoying to drive, but this one was the color of a hot rod. He might not mind the leg cramps headed his way.

  Bailey nodded, then stumbled.

  He grabbed her with his free hand. “I’ve got you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He should be thanking her. Warmth and softness pressed against Justin, making him think of lazy autumn weekend mornings spent in bed, the brush of flannel sheets against skin, the feel of someone else’s heartbeat and the sound of another breath.

  Yes. He needed to get out more. Nothing serious, just for fun.

  He helped her into the car, closed the door, then walked around to the hatchback and loaded the painting. “Tell me about this burger place. Good food?”

  She turned and leaned between the front seats. “Best fries in town, thanks to a special seasoning mix. A little spicy, but not too much.”

  “I don’t mind a little heat.”

  His words came out more suggestive then he’d intended. But what could he say? That image of a bed and tangled flannel sheets was burned on his mind.

  She faced forward. “There are bungee cords, if you want to secure the painting.”

  Justin battened down the frame, then slid into the driver’s seat. His right knee crashed into the steering wheel. “Knowing that was coming didn’t help.”

  He expected her to laugh at him, tease him at the least, but no mocking laughter appeared in her eyes.

  “That had to hurt.” Her nose crinkled, her forehead, too. “You okay?”

  “That’s supposed to be my line.” He didn’t like being on the receiving end of her seeming to care. She was the enemy and would lose this fight to save the inn. “I’m fine.”

  “That’s my line.”

  “Now we’re even.” He adjusted the seat so his legs half fit, then saw the stick shift. “You managed to drive a clutch with your injured foot.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Damn straight I am.” The woman was unbelievable. But he knew that. “Did you even consider staying home or at least off the roads?”

  “I had no choice. If I hadn’t come, there wouldn’t be an inn.”

  So much for a truce. “If you’d been bleeding with your foot torn to shreds—”

  “That’s what rolls of gauze and bandages are for.”

  “You’re either dedicated or insane.”

  “A little of both.”

  Her admission surprised him. “Seriously?”

  “No one completely sane chooses to be a full-time artist. The market’s as fickle as the economy, creativity com
es and goes and making a living is hard. But I give lessons, put on events and sell an occasional piece. Somehow things work out.”

  Her car sat lower to the road than any car he remembered driving. Not a bumblebee. More like a battery-powered toy. He fastened his seat belt. “You must be doing okay, given this car.”

  “I’m not a starving artist, even if I look like one. I travel back and forth to a gallery in Seattle. I need a reliable vehicle. This one fits the bill.”

  From crazy to practical in less than thirty seconds. She must drive her boyfriend to the brink of insanity.

  But what a way to go, a voice in his head whispered.

  Justin ignored it. He drove up the block to the inn and parked at the curb. “I’m going to bring out the rest of your artwork. Won’t take me long.”

  Five minutes later, he was back behind the wheel. “Which way?”

  “Follow Bay Street until you reach Third Avenue. You can only turn right. You’ll see the Burger Boat on the left.”

  He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. “Think you’ll be able to hold yourself together that long?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.”

  He couldn’t tell from her tone if she was joking or warning him.

  Justin drove past the marina. Many of the slips were empty. The fishermen and charter-boat captains who made a living on the sea must be hard at work. People like Bailey’s family.

  Across the street sat stores and cafés, one after another. The buildings looked newer, not just with a new coat of paint, but updated facades to add to the quaint, coastal feel of the town. One restaurant had a crow’s nest, but no drive-through window.

  People, dressed in shorts or sundresses, filled the boardwalk running the length of the Bay Street shops. The little town of Haley’s Bay was a big draw with Cape Disappointment and Long Beach nearby.

  A boat-shaped building with a giant plastic hamburger for the ship’s wheel caught his attention. Must be the Burger Boat. The blue-and-white paint job looked new, as did the windows. But the architecture screamed early 1970s tacky and retro-cool.

  “Follow the anchors painted on the pavement to get to the drive-through window.”

  He did and stopped behind a silver minivan. There was no intercom system with a digital screen to display an order, only a window. “What do you recommend besides the fries?”

  “The pirate booty burger is good if you have a big appetite. The hazelnut chocolate shakes are amazing.”

  “You know the menu well.” He expected a shrug, but didn’t get one.

  “I eat here once a week. Have since I was a kid. They add seasonal shake flavors like pumpkin in the fall, and occasionally change up the Catch of the Day burger, but pretty much the menu has stayed the same for as long as I remember, a lot like Haley’s Bay until they put in new shops on Bay Street.”

  “You don’t like the changes.”

  This time she shrugged. “They are tourist spots, necessary for a service-oriented town, but not practical shops for those who call this place home. I miss the old places like the hardware store and pharmacy.”

  “The familiarity?”

  “Consistency.”

  “To balance the not-always-stable life of an artist?”

  “I guess. Maybe I’m just stuck in my ways.”

  The minivan pulled away from the window. Justin released the brake and drove forward.

  “I’ll have a dinghy burger, fries and root beer.” She dug through her yellow shopping bag and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Lunch is on me. I appreciate the ride home and not having to wait for my family.”

  Justin had two choices. Accept her offer or say no, thanks. He weighed both options. One would piss her off. Both might. But she was tired, and they were hungry. No sense aggravating the situation more. And she had ruined his day. A free lunch wouldn’t make up for the mess she caused.

  He took the money.

  Loose strands of hair curled around her face and caught the light. The color looked coppery like a shiny new penny. His stomach tightened. That had nothing to do with being hungry.

  She wasn’t sweet or nice. She was a pain in the ass.

  Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  The fast-food place’s drive-through window slid open.

  “Ahoy, matey. Welcome to the Burger Boat.” A man in his early twenties with a chipped front tooth and a sailor cap grinned. “What can we reel in for you today?”

  Justin gave their order and paid with Bailey’s twenty.

  A foghorn blared inside the restaurant, the nautical sound effects matching the place’s boat theme.

  “Here’s your change. I’ll bag up your catch.” The window slid closed.

  “Did you ever work here?” Justin asked her, trying to fill the silence in her car.

  “No, I thought being under a chef would teach me more than how to grill burgers and blend milk shakes.”

  “Smart thinking for a teenager.”

  “I like learning as much as I can about what I do.”

  She had more going on in her head than what subject to paint next. She hadn’t known what she’d faced this morning, but she’d arrived prepared with files and paperwork.

  Unlike him.

  The window opened again. The man passed over the drinks. “Here’s your order.”

  Justin put the drinks in the cup holders between their seats, then handed her the bag of food. She gave him directions to her house. He pulled forward and turned out of the parking lot.

  The scent of burger and fries made his stomach grumble. “Smells good.”

  “Tastes better.” Bailey opened the bag, removed a couple of fries and lifted them to his mouth. “Here.”

  “Thanks—”

  He hit the brake to let pedestrians cross the street.

  Her fingers bumped into his chin, then slipped away, leaving a trail of heat.

  A blush rose up her neck. Sexy.

  Easy, guy. Justin needed to add “fingers” to the list of her lethal body parts, along with her breasts and her brain.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He reminded himself to swallow. The spice hit the back of his throat. “Eat. We’re down to the final thirty seconds until you lose it.”

  Bailey ate French fries, then a bite of her burger. “I feel better already.”

  On her street, a man dressed in cargo shorts and a stained T-shirt stood next to Officer Grady Cole in front of a blue-painted cottage. Colorful flowers filled every space that wasn’t covered by grass, including the basket of a rusted bicycle leaning against the outside of a white picket fence.

  The house looked surprisingly normal, though Justin hadn’t known what to expect. A run-down shack? A padded room? “That looks like your brother.”

  “Two brothers. Grady and Ellis.” Bailey leaned forward. “Both should be at work.”

  What now? Justin gripped the steering wheel. “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Five, and one sister.”

  “Where should I park?”

  “The driveway is right past the police car.” She dragged her upper teeth across her lower lip. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  He reached out, touched her forearm. A gesture of comfort, except he wasn’t 100 percent certain that was all. “Hey. I’m sure everything’s okay. Grady knew you injured your foot. They’re probably checking up on you.”

  She nodded, but doubt remained in her gaze.

  Justin switched on the blinker, turned into the driveway. Her brothers glared like wolves protecting their pack. His fight instinct kicked into high gear. He parked the car. Two against one. He’d faced worse odds and come out ahead.

  “My brothers don’t look happy,” she said in an understated voice.

  Justin recognized their don’t-mess-with-my-sister expression. He
pulled the key out of the ignition. “Let’s find out why.”

  * * *

  Seated in her car, Bailey sipped her root beer. She needed one more fortifying drink of sugar to face her brothers. Ellis and Grady’s body language suggested they wanted to take someone out. They’d looked the same way when they found out she’d lied about going to a sleepover and snuck down to Seaside during spring break to hang out with college boys from the University of Washington.

  No worries. She needed to stay calm and settle her brothers down. Fast. Or someone—namely, Justin—was going to get hurt.

  Ellis, the second-oldest and married with kids, opened her car door. “Where have you been? We’ve been calling.”

  “The inn.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “Grady knew where I was. Grandma, too.”

  “Grady told me you were at the inn, but you didn’t answer my texts. When I called, all I got was your voice mail.” Ellis sounded like their dad, only more caring.

  “Long morning. My cell phone died.” Bailey moved her legs out of the car. Her fingers dug into the seat fabric. She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy, that didn’t feel good.

  “You’re hurt. And you look a mess.” Ellis touched her shoulder. He turned to Grady. “You’re right about her foot.”

  Grady nodded. “Told you.”

  “Excuse me.” Justin pushed forward, moving her brothers out of the way, and picked her up. “Bailey’s injured. Whatever you’re here for can wait until I get her inside.”

  “Who are you?” Ellis asked.

  “A Good Samaritan helping your sister,” Justin said. “Out of my way.”

  Ellis grabbed the shopping bag from her hands. “Do you need anything out of the car?”

  She nodded. “The artwork and our lunch.”

  “On it,” Grady said.

  Uh-oh. Her brothers were being too nice and not giving Justin a hard time. Something was up.

  Justin carried her toward the front door. His strong arms cradled her. Her pulse quickened.

  She didn’t like what Justin McMillian intended to do to the inn, but her heart melted a little. No guy had ever stood up to her brothers. Not that Justin had caused a confrontation. But he’d shown concern for her without worrying about the repercussions. That was new. And seeing Ellis and Grady get out of the way was funny. They were as stubborn as she was.