by Marika Ray
I was in.
With hand outstretched, I said, "I'm Bailey."
His hand grabbed hold of mine, soft, warm skin that seemed strong yet delicate at the same time. He opened his mouth to give me his name in return when he was rudely interrupted by the guy behind him.
"Smith. Like Smith and Wesson." The voice came out a little garbled and overly loud, like the owner was already well into his night of drinking.
Unfortunately, it wasn't garbled enough to confuse me as to who the owner was.
"Dick!" I shouted the name, startled that he was even here, of all places, of all nights.
My handsome, older suitor stepped back to see who'd spoken, giving me direct line of sight to Jack, sitting at the bar, swirling his drink, ever-present smirk firmly in place.
"No, it's Jack, sweetheart. You should know...you said it enough last weekend at your place." He laughed at his own joke while I gasped.
I stared at him in disbelief and horror. What the hell?
The man stepped back, hands held out in peace. "Hey, I'll let you two figure this out. I'm not looking for drama." He nodded his head to me. "Lovely to meet you, Bailey."
Then he spun around and left the bar, taking with him any last bits of sanity I possessed where Jack was concerned.
"What the hell, Jack!" I took the spot my mystery man just vacated, the warmth of his seat the only thing I had to remember him by. I was not happy.
Jack guffawed and toasted the air with his drink. He looked totally shit-faced, drinking all by himself in a crowded bar. "That guy was a total douche. 'I'll let you take the lead.'" He mimicked a high pitched voice, which for the record, the guy did not sound like at all. "You don't want a guy like that, Bae. You need a guy who'll be just as strong as you. Otherwise, you'll run right over him. Am I right?"
I got right in his drunk little face, words flying from my mouth. "How the fuck would you know what I need, Dick? You haven't bothered to spend any time with me, other than to interrogate me about things that are none of your goddamn business, or you're kissing the hell out of me against the wall. You. Don't. Know. Me."
His eyes finally focused on mine, letting me know he wasn't completely drunk off his ass. There was a small part of him still in control. He leaned in close, his mouth just a few inches from my lips.
"I want to know you. I want to kiss you up against a wall again. I want to ask you all the questions just so I can hear your voice. I interrogate you, because I want to get to know you, Bae."
Then he turned back to the bar and sipped his alcohol, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on me.
I blinked repeatedly, taking the time to take apart that confession, each thought like a soothing balm to my bruised heart. He was calling me by some pet name now like it was a natural thing. He wanted to know me. He wanted to kiss me. He liked my voice.
I blurted out, "Then why the silent treatment?" I didn't understand the disconnect. If he really felt all those things then why did he distance himself from me?
He set his glass back down, forehead creased like he was deep in thought about something dark and unhappy. The lines on his face were always there, deeply etched into his skin, making me think he made that expression often.
Talking straight ahead to the wall behind the bar, he laid it out for me in a way that finally made sense. "I keep backing off, because I know what kind of woman I need in my life. I have a stressful job, working long hours. I see horrific things. I want a woman that I can come home to and lose myself in her softness. A woman that can bring joy back into my day. Be the one easy thing in my crazy life."
Then he turned to me, pinning me with his gaze. "You're not easy. You're not soft. You're bright and happy, yes, but you're also fire and sass. You wouldn't let me run right over you. You'd put up a fight and I would engage, like you were my own personal catnip I couldn't walk away from." He stroked his hand down my arm, his expression turning to one of regret as much as desire.
"And as much as I can imagine the sex would be explosive, I know I need more. Getting involved with you would sidetrack me from finding the one I need to settle down with. It might sidetrack me for life."
His hand fell from my arm the same time my heart fell out of my chest, hitting a rock bottom I didn't know existed. He stood from his barstool, turned his back on me, and walked away into the crowd, his gait uncoordinated, the alcohol finally taking full control.
7
Bailey
I sat at that bar for another hour, sipping my wine, followed by a glass of water. I'm sure the bartender was real happy with me taking up a seat and ordering only one drink, but I had a lot to think through. The background noise helped me sit with my thoughts and not freak out.
Jack was killing me. Yes, I was back to calling him Jack. He hadn't apologized, but that soul-bearing confession was even better. Not better as in, everything's hunky-dory, but better as in, he was off my shit-list.
I was both elated that he felt so much for me and deflated that he'd already discounted what I could be to him, or what we could be together. He'd made a judgement about who I was and then dismissed me.
I actually felt sorry for him. I know, pretty weird for me to be sad for him rather than just mad. But hey, it looked like I was maturing. Seriously though, he thought he wanted some push-over woman to fetch him beer and make him dinner. Mark my words, he'd be bored within the first week of marriage. What he really needed was someone to bring life back into his day. And you don't bring life to a man by being a doormat.
Maybe one of his friends could knock some sense into him. In the meantime, I wouldn't be putting my life on hold. I'd be out and about looking for Mr. Right, even if I thought I'd found him already. He couldn't be Mr. Right if he didn't want to be him.
I settled my bill and pushed my way through the crowd to get to the bathrooms. The hallway in the back of the bar where the restrooms were located was about a hundred times quieter than the bar, although the lack of sufficient overhead lighting was a bit disconcerting.
I ducked into the ladies and took care of business. I grabbed my keys out of my clutch and threw open the door to enter the hallway. Jack stood directly in front of me, causing me to stumble in surprise.
He caught me by my arms, holding me upright.
"Jack!" He'd nearly given me a heart attack jumping out like that in the dark.
"Bae..." he mumbled, eyes looking almost closed.
Ah man, the boy was drunk as a skunk.
"Do you have a ride home, Jack?" I tried to get his attention by getting in his face. His smirk was wobbly though just as potent.
"Gonna sleep right here." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to a dark corner of the hallway, then pitched to that side.
"Whoa, there, mister." I grabbed him by the shoulders and kept him upright, which was saying something since he was heavier than I thought and I was in four inch stilettos. "Why don't I drive you home, huh?"
He didn't argue, so I put my arm around his waist to steer him out of the hallway. He took advantage by putting his arm around my shoulders and cooperated as I got us out of the bar. It took ten times as long as it should have to get down to the parking garage and then get him in my car, but I managed it, wishing the whole time I could record this for blackmail purposes later. As it was, my arms were too full to pull it off.
I didn't know where he lived, so when his eyes closed and he leaned his head back against the seat and fell asleep, I took him back to my place. If he didn't wake up, he'd have to sleep in the car. There was no way I could get him into my house by myself.
All the stars aligned, and he woke up when I parked the car outside my place. He looked around in confusion, then saw my face and smiled. That dimple came out, and I thought of all the ways I could take advantage of him. I controlled myself, remembering I wasn't what he wanted anyway, and got him into the house.
We stumbled over to my couch and I let him fall onto it. The cushions were soft, he'd be fine. I told him to stay put while I got some blan
kets. I made a quick stop in my room to strip off my dress and heels, putting my comfy pajamas on before getting the blankets and pillow he would need.
When I got back to the couch, he was passed out sitting upright, the worry lines finally smoothed out on his face. I sighed, the sight tugging hard on my heartstrings.
Then I took his shoes off and grabbed him under the arms to swivel him down to lying. I hefted his legs up on the couch and struggled to take his jeans off. I totally did not look at his boxers or appreciate the bulge that resided there, just one piece of flimsy cloth away from my curious hands. I put a pillow under his head and indulged myself by raking my hands through his thick hair.
When I felt like my caresses might be crossing the line into creepy, I dropped a kiss on his forehead and put a glass of water with three ibuprofen tablets on the coffee table for him. He was would be hurting when he woke up. One last reluctant glance at the irritatingly beautiful man and I was off to bed where sleep eluded me and our conversation looped over and over again.
Jack
I woke to slamming cupboard doors and imaginative cursing. I didn't even have to open my eyes to know I was with Bailey. That voice turned me on and made me smile, even when I felt like death at the bottom of a whiskey barrel. I assessed the room, realizing I was on Bailey's couch in her living room. The sun was peeking through the windows and a check of my watch told me I still had plenty of time before I needed to be at the station.
I threw back the blankets that were pulled up to my chin and spotted the pills and water waiting for me. Something about the sweet gesture made me pause. Then I gulped them down, hoping to squash the pounding in my head before I had to have an uncomfortable conversation with Bailey.
I stared down at my lap, covered only by boxers, and tried to piece together what happened last night. I remembered trying to drink away my day at work, needing human noise around me, rather than the oppressive silence of my house. Then Bailey was flirting with some guy right in front of me.
I remembered spilling my guts to her, telling her how much I wanted her. I closed my eyes and raked my hands through my hair. Shit. I remembered nothing after that.
I was thirty-two fucking years old, and I got so trashed last night I couldn't remember if I finally slept with the girl I was dangerously close to falling in love with or if I'd pushed her away like I should have done months ago. Either outcome was equally unpleasant.
"Hey, you're up."
My head shot up, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. She was leaning against the doorway with a spatula in her hand, flour on her face, and a smile that could light up even the darkest of hearts.
"Morning." My voice came out rough, strangled by sheepishness over my actions the night before and a sudden desire to see this woman every morning for the rest of my life. Preferably without the hangover.
She spun around and hurried back into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Come on in here and get some of my special Bailey-cakes."
I looked around for my jeans, unwilling to stand up until I'd covered myself and the rising evidence that I found her sexy as sin. Unlike her usual put-together self, she'd had on a pair of sweats that said Pink across the butt and a loose sweatshirt that looked like it had been washed and worn within an inch of its life. The funny thing is, I'd never seen her look more beautiful.
"Hurry up! They're gonna be cold if you don't get a move on, Detective."
I found my jeans on the armchair and slid them on, followed by my shoes that were neatly placed by the chair. Clearly, she'd taken care of me last night when I was incapacitated.
I made my way into the kitchen, squinting at the harsh light. Served me right though for being an idiot last night. I needed to thank her, needed to apologize for anything I said and did last night.
"Bailey--"
"Oh, now it's Bailey, huh? I kinda liked Bae." She handed me a plate stacked with pancakes and flashed a saucy wink.
I wasn't the blushing type, but I swear it got a thousand degrees hotter in that kitchen all of a sudden. I'd been calling her 'Bae' in my head for months now...since it was her name shortened, but also what people called their 'baby' for short. Seemed apropos in my head, never imagining I'd actually call her that out loud.
I rubbed the back of my neck and looked up at her through my lashes. "Yeah, about that..."
"Oh, for God's sake, have a seat and eat! You got drunk, you said some things. It's over. We all do that on occasion, I don't hold it against you." She looked exasperated with me, not over my drunken behavior last night, but my timidness this morning.
I plopped myself down in a chair and picked up my fork. "All I want to say is thank you." Her head whipped up, mid-bite. "Thank you for getting me home and taking such good care of me. That was thoughtful."
I dug into my pancakes, content that I'd thanked her and we'd cleared the air. Now I could examine why her thoughtfulness struck such a chord with me and what that meant going forward. It was like I'd seen another side to her that I didn't know existed. I wanted a woman who would take care of me and brighten my day. She'd done both those things, and we weren't dating. Hell, we didn't even like each other most days. Could I have been wrong about her?
Damn, plus these pancakes were fucking amazing. I glanced up to comment on her cooking and realized she'd stopped eating, just picking at her pancake.
“Something wrong?”
She smiled, overly cheerful, saying "Nothing."
Now I'm no expert, but when a woman says nothing's wrong, you damn well know something is most definitely wrong.
8
Bailey
It took all my acting skills to pretend that everything was normal with Jack waking up at my house, looking all adorably wrinkled and hung over. It was damn unfair he could still look that hot after a night of heavy drinking. After I passed about twenty-five years old, I lost all ability to drink more than a few glasses of wine without waking up like a truck ran over me. Fucker probably lost weight after binge drinking too.
He was so contrite, hating that he'd lost control, and I'd saved the day. I'd bet it was hard for an alpha male to allow a woman to take care of them. After what he'd said, about how he wanted to know me, I couldn't leave him. He may be twisted up about who he thought I was, but that was no excuse for me to not take care of him.
Damn my conscience!
Over pancakes, he seemed like he was warming up to me, like he'd changed his opinion about me. Which I wasn't looking for him to do. I didn't like that he'd judged me, but hey, that was on him. In fact, it was better that he ignored me, considering the grey areas I tended to travel in.
Then he took it a step further and said I was sweet! Oh, hell no.
We could be friends and flirt some, but I wasn't looking to get involved with him when he'd clearly stated he wanted a doormat girlfriend. As hot as he was, I wasn't signing up for that bullshit.
Time to put the brakes on sweet and remind him I was also spicy.
"So..." Jack looked nervous when I said everything was fine. Good. He needed to stay on his toes. "Have you always lived in Huntington Beach?"
I set my fork down and decided to be honest with him for once. "No. I grew up out of state with my mom. My dad left before I was born. I ran with a rough crowd and my mom got sick of it and moved us here to HB. I went to high school here, which is where I met Esa. Her parents became my second parents, treating me like their daughter. They believed in me and I did my best to live up to their expectations, which turned my life around."
Jack looked thoughtful. "Didn't her parents die in a car crash?"
I nodded, hating to talk about it, even though it had been years. "Yep. On the fucking 405 freeway."
Jack placed his hand over mine on the table. "I'm sorry, Bae."
I cleared my throat and pushed my chair back, standing quickly. I had to get out of there before he saw the tears in my eyes. I grabbed my plate and took it to the kitchen, trying to get myself together. I hated crying in front of people and I su
rely didn't want Jack to see me cry and then start calling me 'sweet' again.
I rinsed my plate and put it in the dishwasher, calling over my shoulder when I could get the words out without them wobbling, "I've got to get to work. I hate to push you out so early, but it can't be helped."
Jack came right up behind me, pressing his body into mine and placed his plate in the sink. "Thank you for breakfast. I'll call you later today," he whispered in my ear. He kissed my neck, that spot behind the ear that causes instant shivers and melts panties. Then he was gone, leaving my home quieter than it had ever been.
Jack
I left Bailey's by catching an Uber, which took me to my place to shower. I made it into work and got busy on my next case. My tech guy had gotten back with some information on Hessa's case. I also pulled up a new email from Hessa that was rather cryptic. Something about taking a look at an account online and a specific IP address. I knew nothing about that computer crap so I forwarded it along to my tech guy.
I was surrounded by things that needed to be done ASAP and all I could focus on was Bailey. Questions circled in my head: did I misjudge her, did she actually possess the kindness I was looking for, was I wrong in thinking I wanted someone different than her? At this juncture, I couldn't think of anyone I'd want besides her!
Yes, she was spirited, to say the least. But it turned me on. The things that came out of that mouth were so sassy I just wanted to kiss her to shut her up. I wanted to do things that lit that fire in her eyes and wound her up for an argument. I liked her fire.
And I'd love to feel that fire while I was buried balls deep in her, pounding away because I knew she could take it and she'd give it right back.
I was feeling like I'd made a major mistake, and I hated that feeling. I'd been pushing her away, when what I should have been doing was working my ass off to keep her by my side.
