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

by Michelle Major

  Chapter 11

  For the first two days after Buddy arrived, Bailey left her house when Justin visited. She knew that was what Tyler, her family and everyone else in town wanted. Saying hello followed by goodbye a minute later got old fast, but she was trying to do the right thing.

  Except leaving home each time wasn’t the right thing for her.

  Or Justin, who wanted her to stay.

  Or Buddy, who tried to block the door when she was leaving.

  On day three, when Justin came over, she gave in and stayed home. Tyler didn’t call. None of her family showed up. No one seemed to notice, let alone care. So she did the same thing the next time. And the time after that.

  One week passed, then another, each day sweeter than the last. Bailey was getting attached to Buddy. She looked forward to Justin’s visits. Their no-kissing mandate fell by the wayside.

  When he was at her house, she could almost believe the three of them were a family. A part of her—a big part—longed for this arrangement to become permanent.

  Crazy? Yes, but she didn’t care.

  Bailey was happy in a way she hadn’t been before. Not with any former boyfriend or date. Nothing came close to this. She didn’t want the feeling to end. If only she didn’t have to worry about the inn...

  But she wouldn’t think about that now. She had chocolate chip cookies to make. By the time Justin finished playing with Buddy in the backyard, she would be finished baking and they could spend time together.

  The ingredients sat on the counter. Parchment paper lined the cookie sheets. The oven was preheating. She reached into her kitchen cupboard and pulled out a large mixing bowl.

  “Whoa. That’s commercial-size.”

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the sound of Justin’s voice. He stood in the doorway and looked way too good in his khaki shorts and green polo. A good thing she’d decided to wear a skirt and a tank top, rather than her work-around-the-house clothes. She knew he didn’t care, but she did.

  Buddy peered around Justin’s legs. The pup sniffed the air.

  “I haven’t started yet,” she said to the dog.

  “How many cookies do we need to make?” Justin asked.

  We. The word made Bailey’s heart sigh. She hadn’t asked him to help. She’d assumed he wouldn’t want to bake when he could be playing with Buddy. “Ten dozen.”

  “I had no idea the Coles were related to Cookie Monster.”

  Grinning, she stuck out her tongue. He made a silly face in return.

  She placed the bowl on the counter. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there are no fuzzy blue relatives in the Cole family tree.”

  “Only fuzzy blue shoes.”

  “Purple fuzzy slippers.”

  He exhaled, louder than a sigh, as if he were exaggerating the sound on purpose. “I have fond memories of seeing those slippers for the first time.”

  “Revising history?”

  “Embracing it.”

  Bailey wished he’d embrace her. She felt as if she’d known Justin longer than a few weeks. He fit so perfectly into her world. Or would, once the problem with the inn’s ownership was resolved.

  She pulled out her measuring cups and spoons.

  “So why ten dozen?” he asked.

  “That’s how many Grady asked me to make for his department’s barbecue tomorrow night.”

  Justin shook his head. “I can just imagine what Paige would say if I asked her to bake cookies for me.”

  “What about Rainey?”

  “She would go to the nearest bakery and buy them. None of us learned to cook growing up. It wasn’t something my mom had time to teach us.” Justin put on the apron hanging from a hook. “What do you need me to do?”

  He really was a good guy. Too bad Tyler couldn’t see this side of Justin. “Thanks, but you don’t have to help. Go play with Buddy.”

  “I want to help. Buddy, too. He’ll be happy to clean up anything that drops to the floor.” Justin walked toward her. “You’re going to need help making twelve dozen cookies.”

  “Ten.”

  “Twelve.” He rubbed his stomach. “The other two dozen are for us. Well, me.”

  Smiling, Bailey faced the counter and scooped flour into a measuring cup. “I might be able to stretch the dough into more cookies.”

  “Might?” Justin stood behind her, his chest pressed against her back. “What’s it going to take to get you to say you will?”

  A thrill ran through her. She was ready to bake twenty dozen cookies, if that was what he wanted. She’d do anything to make him as happy as she felt. “I...”

  “Need more convincing?” He showered kisses along her neck. “How’s this?”

  A moan escaped her mouth. Talk about talented lips. She leaned back against him to give him better access. “I could make an extra half dozen.”

  “Only six more?” Justin nibbled on her ears. Sensation shot from her earlobe down to her toes. “That won’t do.”

  “No?” Her voice sounded husky.

  “Nope.” He turned her so she faced him. “Two dozen.”

  She held the measuring cup full of flour between them. “How about a dozen? I can’t stretch the recipe any more without having to pull out a calculator and refigure the ingredients. Math was never my best subject.”

  “A good thing it was mine.” He ran his fingertip along the side of her face. “I’ll help you calculate measurements. And whatever else you need.”

  He brushed his lips across hers, the kiss feather soft.

  A list with several more kisses on it formed in her mind. “I might need a lot.”

  “That’s okay.” The desire in his eyes matched the way Bailey felt. She arched toward him.

  Justin pulled her closer.

  Something pressed against her stomach. Huh? The measuring cup slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. The sound echoed in the small kitchen. Flour flew up, a cloud of white dust.

  Justin jumped back.

  Bailey reached for a dish towel. “Sorry. I forgot I was holding the cup.”

  “If our kissing made you forget, then it’s worth the cleanup.”

  “Good point.” She stared at his legs. His feet were completely covered in white. “You’ve got flour on you.”

  “So do you. All over.”

  Bailey glanced down. She was covered in white from her waist down. She laughed. “At least it can’t get any worse.”

  Buddy bounded in between them. Flour went flying again, all over them and the dog.

  Justin laughed. “It’s worse.”

  The dog ran in circles, spreading more flour around the kitchen and on them.

  “He thinks this is a game,” Justin said.

  “Well, he won, if that’s the case.” She laughed. “So much for wowing you with my cookie-making skills.”

  “You’ve wowed me with all your other skills. And you’ve cooked for me already. I know your cookies will be killer.”

  His words sounded genuine. Her cheeks warmed, a regular occurrence around Justin. “Thanks.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her another kiss. “You taste like flour.”

  “I must have touched my face.”

  He grabbed a roll of paper towels. “I’m going to put Buddy in the backyard so we can get this mess cleaned up. He’ll need a bath, but we have cookies to make.”

  “Yes, twelve dozen is a lot.” She grabbed a dish towel. “If you’re good, I’ll let you taste the dough.”

  “Oh, I’m always good.”

  Smiling was so easy to do around Justin. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

  “Cookie dough is one of my favorites.” His grin spread. “What’s yours?”

  She liked the cookie dough, but she liked tasting something better. “You.”

  * * * />
  On a Saturday morning under an overcast sky, Justin sat at the picnic table in Bailey’s backyard. He tossed a neon-green ball toward the fence. Buddy ran after it.

  She was inside on a phone call to one of her brothers. Justin had no idea which one. Keeping track of all the Coles in Haley’s Bay could be a full-time job.

  Buddy barked. Now that the uncomfortable cone was off and his leg healed, running and chasing had become his favorite playtime activities.

  “Bring the ball here.”

  The dog picked it up in his mouth, but decided to take a roundabout way back.

  Justin preferred going the direct route, point-to-point. He didn’t make a habit of sniffing every blade of grass like Buddy. But his dog seemed to be having fun and enjoying the journey, not speeding by to arrive at the destination. Maybe the dog could teach him some new tricks. Bailey, too. “Come on, boy.”

  Buddy ran and dropped the ball.

  Justin threw the drool-covered ball once more. He’d yet to reach the point where the dog gave up first. Maybe that wasn’t in Buddy’s nature. “Wait until you see your new house. It’s on the beach. You can chase balls into the water.”

  The dog was more interested in running after the ball than listening to him. Justin didn’t blame Buddy. Playing was more fun.

  Staying in Haley’s Bay had been fun. The quaint coastal village had a different vibe than his hometown, Lincoln City. He wouldn’t miss the everybody-knows-your-business factor here, but he would miss the everybody-knows-your name part. And Bailey.

  He might be ready to go home, sleep in his own bed and introduce Buddy to his new home, but he would miss the pretty, kind artist who’d opened her home to his dog and, by default, him.

  Buddy ran toward him with the ball once more.

  Justin’s growing attraction and affection were too deep to think of Bailey as only a friend. Romantic was the only way to describe his feelings.

  But they were stuck in some kind of limbo, which he hated. Buddy drew them together. The Broughton Inn kept them from becoming closer. The thought of leaving Bailey and going back to Lincoln City depressed him. She’d mentioned visiting, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

  The dog dropped the ball. Justin threw it again, this time aiming for the opposite side of the yard.

  He tried to think of reasons he needed to stay in Haley’s Bay longer, but things were winding down.

  The property inspections, done by two different inspectors, each hired by one of the “owners,” showed typical problems with a building that age, but nothing on the reports required demolition.

  Of course not. A teardown recommendation would have made this too easy. But now that he knew what the inn meant to Bailey, a part of him was glad her dreams for the place hadn’t died. And maybe there could be a solution where they both got what they wanted.

  While Justin fine-tuned the renovation applications for the various historical committees, he’d tasked Paige with finding Mr. Potter’s son in Boise, Idaho, and buying his land. So far, the man had turned down two offers, but Paige had gone back with a third. The guy would be a fool if he said no.

  Justin had blueprints he’d drafted in his free time, but he’d wait to show them off until the deal closed. No reason to jinx the project to stroke his ego. Or, if he was being honest, open himself up to criticism.

  Bailey’s opinion of his plans meant more than he understood. Sure, she had a style he admired, but the need for her to appreciate his work borderlined on pathetic. Yet he kept the stupid tube in his truck, in case she asked what he’d been up to in the time they were apart.

  She hadn’t asked.

  He hadn’t told her about trying to purchase the Potter lot or the blueprints.

  A bird swooped down over the grass. Buddy dropped the ball and went for the bird that wisely flew into the neighbor’s yard.

  Justin shook his head. “You’ll have better luck with the ball.”

  His cell phone beeped, signaling a text message.

  He glanced at the message from Paige displayed on the screen: Phil Potter said no to third offer. Told me not to call again. It’s dead. Get the Bro. Inn deal closed. NOW!

  Not the news Justin wanted to hear.

  He and Bailey had avoided any discussion of the inn since the dog shower. But the sooner this was resolved, the sooner he could figure out where he and Bailey stood, now and in the future.

  “Hey.” Bailey sat next to him. “That was AJ. His private investigator might have a lead on Floyd in South America. Someone matching his description was in Cartagena.”

  “Let’s hope they find him.

  She stared at the dog. “Buddy looks like he’s having fun.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “You bought the bag of balls.”

  “Who knew a triathlete’s arm could tire from fetch?” She wasn’t smiling. “Something wrong?”

  “Not wrong.” She moistened her lips. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking. That’s why I wanted to talk to AJ today. He told me to go through Tyler and formally present my offer, but it’s Sunday and you’re here, so I’ll just tell you what I told my brother. If McMillian Resorts agrees to put in an art gallery that I could lease, hire the former employees, maintain vendor contracts and keep at least a portion of the main building in the new remodeled design, I’ll give up my ownership claim.”

  Wow. And like that, it was done.

  Still, her words shocked Justin. He searched her face to see if she was uncertain about her decision, but she looked almost serene. “You’re positive?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been thinking about a compromise for a couple of weeks now. I think this would work.”

  “You’re full of surprises. I never would have guessed.”

  “I do my best pondering when I’m alone. Or with Buddy.” She rubbed the dog’s head and he gave her an I’m-in-love pant and lick combo. Buddy being able to touch her made Justin almost jealous.

  Definitely jealous.

  “I’m an artist. I’ve never wanted to be an employer or manage people.” A gleam entered her green eyes. “And I want to do this without feeling like I’m doing something wrong and letting people down.”

  She leaned toward him and kissed him on the mouth. Hard.

  Oh, man. Him, too. Her warmth, her sweet taste. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Her hands splayed across his back. She kissed him with a hunger that matched his own. He wove his fingers through her hair, relishing the feel of her mouth.

  Buddy barked, jumped on top of Justin so he fell back away from Bailey.

  She laughed. “Someone is jealous.”

  Better you than me. Buddy panted. He looked happy, not upset, and gave each of them a lick.

  “Guess he wants kisses, too.” Justin petted the dog’s head. “We’ll have to do some training.”

  “He’s too cute.”

  The dog wasn’t the only one. Justin’s gaze locked on Bailey’s. Funny, but a shared glance was as much of a turn-on as one of her kisses.

  “About the inn...”

  “I’ll have Paige draw up a contract.”

  “Sounds good.” Bailey gave Buddy another rub. “AJ’s hoping they can track down Floyd and get some restitution. But I can’t let this drag on any longer. The employees need to know what’s happening, and so do the artists. The inn is the best place for the co-op gallery. And the truth is, I’m ready to move on.”

  So was Justin. But he wasn’t sure what he wanted to move on toward. Renovating the inn wouldn’t take as long as new construction, but he would have to draw up new plans. His part wouldn’t last as long. After that...

  No complaints. He had the Broughton Inn and Bailey. What more could a guy want?

  * * *

  Three days later, Justin sat in the company’s conference roo
m in Lincoln City. He skimmed through the contract Paige, Kent and the two other attorneys had drafted for Bailey—an inch-thick worth of mumbo jumbo legalese.

  The growing tension behind Justin’s eyes spread down his neck. He dropped the contract onto the mahogany table. The papers hit with a thud. “I’m not giving this contract to Bailey. This piece of crap has enough loopholes to confuse the Supreme Court. She made us an offer with conditions, but those are nebulous at best with the contract wording you used.”

  “You received a verbal offer.” Paige lifted her chin. “This contract ensures that the Broughton Inn will be ours. You can’t expect us to hire just anyone without knowing whether they meet the McMillian Resorts standard of customer service or locking ourselves in to unknown vendors who could cut into our profit margin by raising prices. We also both know a gallery is not what the inn needs.”

  “I’ll concede the first two points, but you’re wrong about the third.” He rolled his shoulders, but the movement bunched his muscles more. “A gallery would give the inn a local look, invest in the community and lead to more event business.”

  “Don’t let an infatuation cloud your judgment,” Paige said. “Bailey Cole is an artist. She’s too flaky to run a gallery.”

  “She did a great job running the gallery until we purchased the inn.”

  “There’s no business plan. She brings nothing to the table except her limited experience with Floyd Jeffries. Look how well that turned out.”

  He leveled his gaze at Paige. “The same could be said about your experience with Floyd.”

  “What’s going on?” Her eyes narrowed. “All you used to care about was getting a project completed on time and under budget. Not even Taryn got in the way of that. Now your priority is some artist and a gallery. You need to keep our business interests the priority. Not hers.”

  Until today, Justin had never paid attention to what his sister and the other lawyers did to close a deal. He took over once they’d obtained the property. Negotiating wasn’t his area of responsibility. This wasn’t his concern. But Bailey’s warm, enthusiastic smile appeared in his mind. He couldn’t let this go. For her sake and his.