Loving Bailey (14 page)

His words sent a thrill running through her
and she nodded, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

Bailey had been too busy prepping and getting
ready for the dinner rush to spend time thinking about Trace. That
hadn’t stopped her from burning her hand, breaking a plate and
dropping a glass because she was distracted. She bent, scooping the
broken shards of a wine glass into the dustpan and when she
straightened, Spencer was sitting at the bar.

“Hey, you’re back,” he said, leaning over the
bar to kiss her. She turned her face and offered him her cheek,
uncertain of what the protocol was for going from almost having sex
with someone to not wanting their touch at all.

He looked at her, a little confused, but he
didn’t comment. Instead, he sat back and hit her with the open
smile which just days ago had charmed her out of her clothes. It
was still charming, but it didn’t matter. She wanted Trace. She’d
always wanted Trace.

“How’s your brother? Travis, right? You never
called.” There was no accusation in his tone, just genuine
concern.

“I don’t know much. He’s stable and they
expect him to recover. My parents are on their way to Germany with
my brother Blake, so I should know more tomorrow when they have a
chance to see him.”

“That’s good news though, right? He’ll get
better and he’s coming home.”

“Yes, it’s good news,” she said, although she
doubted it was as easy as he made it sound.

“So guess what I found,” he said, with
playful enthusiasm.

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling in spite of
herself. “What did you find?”

“After you left yesterday, I took a trip down
the mountain to the Giles County Courthouse. They have a copy of
Christopher Gist’s journal and a map of the route General Crook’s
troops took during the Civil War.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, genuinely
interested. She’d been fascinated by the history of Mountain Lake
and by the Civil War relics they’d found the last time the lake had
drained.

“I know, right? I’m telling a story, so it
doesn’t have to be true, but it feels so much more authentic if at
least parts of it are.”

“I’m glad.” She took down another wine glass
from the rack over the bar and held it in front of him. “Red or
white?”

“Red, please. I’d love some of that syrah you
brought for dinner the other night, if you have more.”

“Of course,” she said, her face flaming hot.
She turned away quickly so he wouldn’t see her blush. She opened
the wine, filled the glass and schooled her face before turning
back to set it on a beverage napkin in front of him.

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked
about the other night, too,” said Spencer.

“I really don’t think…”

“No, wait a minute, let me talk. I wasn’t
trying to reject you – God no. I was trying to be a gentleman. But
since you left, it’s almost all I’ve been able to think about. I
think it would be sexy as hell to be your first.” He looked around
to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “If you still
want me to, I’d love to be the one to take your virginity.”

“Listen, I appreciate it.” She swallowed
hard, but there was no choice except to tell him the truth and hope
they could still be friendly. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Since yesterday? Who?” He sounded
incredulous, but as she watched, his expression changed from
puzzled to smug. “It’s the farmer. I thought you were just
friends.”

“We were,” she said. “It’s more now.” She
glanced over her shoulder, eager to get back in the kitchen. She
knew Jen and Sam, her weekend sous chef, had things under control.
She been in the way more than helping all night, but it would get
her out of the uncomfortable conversation.

“Hmm,” he said and his smile looked so smug,
she had to ask.

“What?”

“Well, I’m not criticizing, mind you. I sure
as hell don’t blame him.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip
of his wine, pausing a moment to enjoy the taste. “I just think
it’s kind of convenient that he waited to make a move until he
found you with me.”

Bailey hadn’t let herself dwell on it before,
but what Spencer said mirrored her own secret concerns. She’d given
Trace plenty of opportunities, but he’s avoided getting involved
with her like the plague until Spencer showed up. She shook her
head and pushed her doubts aside.

“It’s not like that.” And it wasn’t. Trace
had explained why he hadn’t made a move earlier.

“Sure,” he said so casually accepting that
she had to fight the urge to insist. “But if you change your mind,
the offer stands. I’d love to be your first time.” He looked at her
more intently, searching her face. “Unless Trace has already had
the honor.”

Bailey felt her face flame and fought the
urge to flee to the kitchen. She didn’t want to be unkind, but she
didn’t have to care what Spencer thought. What happened between she
and Trace was their business.

“Or not,” he said, reaching out to stroke her
hot cheek with the back of his finger. “Good. Maybe things aren’t
as settled as all that.”

Trace planned to wait until closer to ten
when Seasons closed to make the drive up the mountain to Bailey. If
she was feeling like he was, she didn’t need him hanging around
distracting her while she was working. But he couldn’t do it. He
couldn’t stay away.

He picked a bunch of the peonies she loved,
jumped into his truck and flew up the mountain to get to Bailey.
When he pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, it was full
of dinner traffic. He parked around back, but walked around the
building to the front entrance.

Normally he’d go in the staff door, but it
was bad enough that he’d shown up three hours early. He didn’t want
to be more of a distraction in Bailey’s busy kitchen. He’d just
park himself at the bar for a couple of hours and then help her
clean up at closing time.

He should have enough sense to leave her
alone for the night. She had to be exhausted from the trip and,
judging by the cars in the lot, she had customers to take care of.
But now that he’d finally held her in his arms and tasted her sweet
lips, he couldn’t wait any longer to make her his. He clutched the
flowers in his hand, pushed open the front door and froze with his
hand on the door handle.

Bailey stood behind the bar, talking to the
writer.

Trace flexed his hand around the flower stems
and fought against the jealousy which reared up to bite him. It was
Bailey who kept him from turning into a caveman. She turned to see
who’d come in the door, and when she saw him, her face lit up.

Her whole focus went to him. She left the
writer in the middle of whatever he was saying and flew around the
bar toward him. He finally managed to unstick his feet so he could
meet her and then she was in his arms, stretching up on tiptoe to
press her sweet lips against his. He breathed in, inhaling the
spicy floral scent of the peonies and Bailey, and kissed her like
she was the air he needed to breathe.

“God, I’m glad you’re here,” she said when
she broke the kiss. “I’ve been thinking about you all night. I
can’t concentrate on anything and I’ve started to break things.
Thank God for Jen and Sam or dinner would be a disaster.”

He smiled at her, all the love he’d been
fighting blooming in his chest. “I’ve been useless all day. Jake’s
been looking at me like I’m crazy. I know I’m hours too early, but
I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m glad you came.” She stretched up to kiss
his cheek. “Do you want a table?”

“No, I’ll sit at the bar.”

If something which looked like apprehension
passed across her face, she changed her expression quickly.

“Are you sure? I’ve got to get back in the
kitchen.”

“I’m sure.” He glanced over her shoulder and
saw the writer watching them. “Very sure.”

It was past time to let other man know Bailey
was his and he had no intention of going anywhere. She followed the
direction of his gaze and frowned. She opened her mouth, but before
she could say anything, he held out the flowers. Her eyes lit up as
she gathered the big pink blooms to her.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful. Thank you.” She
kissed him again, this time brushing her lips across his. If they
were going to have this effect, he’d have to remember to bring her
flowers all the time. She hurried behind the bar and stopped, her
hand on the kitchen door, looking from one man to the other. “I’ve
got to put these in water and get back to work.”

“Go ahead, baby. We’ll be fine; won’t we
Spence?” Trace sat on the stool next to the writer.

“It’s Spencer.” He sounded so cool and
civilized, and Trace regretted the dig. He didn’t want to act like
a jealous jerk, and the very last thing he wanted to do was make
the writer look good.

“Of course, Bailey. Do what you need to do.
We’re adults. We’ll be fine,” said Spencer.

Bailey looked back and forth between them one
more time and then she disappeared into the kitchen.

“So, you and Bailey are together.” Spencer
took a swallow of wine, leaning against the bar and watching
Trace.

“Yes,” he said, every fiber of his being
resonating with the word. He and Bailey were definitely together.
The writer let out a low chuckle and Trace turned to face him.
“Something funny?”

“I don’t know. I guess not.” He took another
drink, swirling the deep red wine in the glass and looking
thoughtful. “It seems kind of funny, that’s all.”

“What part of it?” said Trace, trying to keep
his temper and jealousy under a tight rein.

“Well, you and Bailey. I mean, you’ve known
her for how many years?”

“Almost four.”

“And you didn’t get around to taking things
to the next level until I showed interest in her. You have to admit
what it looks like.”

“And what is that?” asked Trace through
gritted teeth.

“To an outsider at least, it looks like you
weren’t really interested in Bailey until someone else started to
pay attention to her.” Spencer sat back swirling the wine in his
glass.

“That’s not true,” said Trace. “And it’s none
of you damn business.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, pausing to take
another sip. “But the thing is I like Bailey. Really like her.
She’s fantastic and she deserves someone who’s going to care about
her for who she is, not someone who’s just marking their
territory.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” said Trace,
hating how he felt the need to justify himself. “Bailey’s always
been important to me. She’s the most important person in the world
to me.”

Spencer looked him over for a moment,
scanning his face. “If you say so,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just
telling you what it looks like. If I were Bailey, I wouldn’t be
trusting the sudden change of heart.”

The bitter smell of burnt sugar wafted up to
Bailey’s nose. She glanced down at the torch in her hand and saw
the toasted brown sugar crust on the lavender infused crème brûlée
turn black.

“Damn it!” She’d been useless to begin with.
Knowing Spencer and Trace were sitting at her bar talking – at
least she thought it was talking, she hadn’t heard any breaking
glass – had upped her crazy scale off the charts.

Thank God Jen and Sam could handle the line
without her. It was still her recipes and her signature tastes, but
it felt good to know she had someone who could execute them,
especially on a night like tonight when she’d obviously lost her
mind. As soon as she had the money to do it, she’d give Sam a bonus
for stepping up.

Jen glanced up from the line, said a few
words to Sam and came over to Bailey.

“That didn’t work so well, did it?” She took
the torch from Bailey, grabbed another crème brûlée from the reach
in, sprinkled it with sugar and lit the torch. Within a few minutes
the sugar had bubbled and smoothed out to a toasted caramel color.
Maggie pushed through the door from the dining room and snagged the
perfect dessert.

“It’s kind of a tasty bar area tonight,” she
said, plating a slice of lemon cheesecake to go with the custard.
“That’s a lot of gorgeous male all in one place. And stop me if I’m
wrong, boss, but didn’t I see you kissing Trace Campbell?”

Jen made a noise which was part squeal part
growl and pinned Bailey with her gaze. “Don’t you have tables to
take care of Maggie?” asked Jen.

“Not really. I’ve got the dessert and coffee
for table four. I’m waiting on the specials for six. Everyone else
is in good shape. I might go hang out at the bar for a while,” she
said with a wink and bumped open the door to the dining room with
her hip, balancing her tray with one hand.

Jen leaned forward to look out the door at
the bar. When she saw who was sitting there, she nailed Bailey with
a gaze that said she expected some explanations quick. It wasn’t
that Bailey didn’t want to tell her. She told Jen everything, but
there hadn’t been time to talk since Trace picked her up at
Spencer’s. The last thing she wanted to do was have this
conversation during dinner service.

“Sam, are you okay for a couple of minutes?”
asked Jen.

Sam looked up from the lamb he was searing on
the grill. “Sure,” he said, glancing over the tickets hanging on
the line. “I’m okay for five.”

“Thanks. We’ll be in the back. Holler if you
need me.” Jen picked up the burnt custard, snagged two spoons and
looked expectantly at Bailey. “Coming?”

“We can’t walk out in the middle of dinner
service.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re not walking out. We’re
just taking a cigarette break without the cigarettes. Now, Bailey,”
she said, motioning with the spoons to the small office in the
back.

Bailey chose the path of least resistance and
followed Jen to the desk she used to write up purchase orders and
fight off the piles of bills and obligations.