Bailey scoffs at that, covering her face with her hands. Eventually she removes them, rolling her head along the back of the seat to stare at me. “Speaking of sleep. How has yours been?”
I shrug and shoulder check vigorously to avoid letting my eyes rest on her. “Fine. Speaking of trucks … ” I trail off as I pull off onto Rosewood Street, desperate to change the subject. “Let’s go get yours.”
“I don’t feel like facing my brothers, thanks. It can just rot there.”
A grin stretches my mouth. Who knew doing nice things for Bailey would become the thing that gets my body humming after months of numbness?
“Do you really think I blew my brother off just to get a haircut?”
“What?” Her voice bleeds confusion.
“The barbershop is next to the auto shop. Your truck is all fixed.”
Her fingers press into her chest. “My truck is fixed?”
“Correct. Brand new set of tires.”
“How did you get it?”
“Ordered a tow truck.”
Several beats of silence pass as I revel in the feel of the cool air blowing against my face. It’s fucking sweltering today. The kind of day that ends in a killer storm. The kind of day that has heat waves rolling just above the asphalt of the roads.
“I can’t afford this.”
“You don’t need to,” I reply. “I told you I’d take care of it. And I did.”
She just stares at me after that statement. Deep brown irises bouncing around my face, a light furrow to her brow, like I’m a puzzle she can’t quite figure out.
Because no one has ever taken care of Bailey Jansen before.
But I think it’s about time she got used to it.
Jasper’s name flashes across my console screen as I follow Bailey out of town and toward the ranch on her fresh set of wheels.
“Hey!” I shout as soon as I press the button.
“Hi.” I can hear the suspicion in his voice. “Why are you avoiding me?” He’s not a big, dumb hockey player. He’s a big, smart hockey player.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You are. You’re a terrible fucking liar for someone who supposedly worked undercover on matters of national security.”
“Jesus, did Bailey tell you to crack those jokes?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to your fiancée.”
I bristle. “Why are you saying it like that?”
I can practically hear him shrug through the phone line. I know him so well. And he knows me so well.
“Dunno, man. Just seems weird that you completely failed to mention your engagement to me until you were announcing it everywhere.”
“Aw. Jasper, baby, don’t get all up in your feels.”
“Beau, take that shit somewhere else. My feelings aren’t hurt. What I’m telling you is I don’t buy it.”
The whoosh of air conditioning is all I hear for a few seconds as I consider my options.
“Why not?”
“That’s offensive.”
I snort. It is. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to pull one over on you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Beau. What are you up to?”
I sigh, palms twisting over the steering wheel. “Bailey needed some support. She’s trying to get outta here, and people are so damn mean to her.”
He hums.
“You can’t fuck this up for her. You need to keep your mouth shut.”
“You know I’m a vault.” He sounds annoyed that I even had to say it. We’ve been best friends, practically brothers, since we were teenagers, and I don’t know a more trustworthy person than Jasper Gervais.
I sigh. “Yeah. I know.”
“You guys have a plan? How long you doing this charade?”
“As long as it takes.” My words lead to more silence. Jasper isn’t a big talker. But he’s a sensitive dude. A deep thinker. And I can almost hear him thinking right now.
“But what’s in it for you?”
My head tips from side to side as I consider my answer. “A friend. I like her.”
“I can tell. And that’s what’s got me worried.”
15
Bailey
“Why not?” The little boy crosses his arms and stares back at Cade, looking like a tiny version of his dad. Dark hair, set jaw, narrowed eyes. He can’t be more than seven or eight, but he carries himself a lot older than that as he glares at his dad from across the dinner table.
“Because they make a huge mess and are hard to contain. And I don’t need another living thing to take care of and clean up after.”
“I’ll feed it and take care of it.”
All heads swivel back and forth between the two. No one says a thing, but I can tell every single person sitting around the Eaton family dinner table is invested.
“You’re only bringing this up here so people will take your side,” Cade grumps.
“Willa already took my side. She said she’d back me up when it came to it.”
Willa groans and tips her head back. “Luuuuke. You can’t just throw me under the bus like that. We’re supposed to be a team.”
I stifle a smile, rubbing my fingers over my mouth as I focus on staring at the empty plate before me.
“Shit, sorry, Mom.”
Beau’s hand lands on my bare thigh. It’s casual, natural. He’s doing it to brace himself against laughing, but I can’t peel my eyes from his broad palm and calloused fingers, the way the size of him almost swallows me. The way my flesh gives beneath the firm squeeze.
It sets me ablaze instantly. I pull my stare away from the sight that’s got me hot and focused on keeping my breathing even, just in time to see Cade’s eyes bug out.
“Luke!” It’s clear the cuss word is not approved, but based on the hushed chuckles from around the table, it’s not exactly new ground.
“Dad, come on. What’s one little goat?”
“No.”
The boy’s eyes go big now, wide and pleading. “But Dad, they butcher all the boy ones because they don’t produce any milk. They practically give them away.”
Luke is really taking his shot here; he’s gone from tough and driving a hard bargain to trying the sensitive approach.
Smart kid.
“So what you’re telling me is that I’d be better off investing in a female goat and making you milk it so it produces something useful rather than work and mess?”
“Dad, please.” His voice cracks. I swear his eyes fill with tears. “Consider it a rescue goat.”
“Cade, come on. Live a little,” Harvey pipes up. I’ve been watching his keen gaze take in the entire exchange. I can tell he’s a great dad, loves his kids—his grandkids. I don’t know Harvey Eaton well, but I know he’s unlike any man I’ve had in my life.
Cade shoots his dad a dry look. “Of course you’d side with a child. What am I supposed to do with a male goat?”
As Harvey stares at his son, it seems like everyone is holding their breath. Beau’s hand tightens on my leg. I hope it leaves marks. I chance a glance over at him, noting the way he’s lifted a fist up over his mouth.
Bracing.
Harvey makes a contemplative grumbling noise while scrubbing at his beard. “Well, you could try milking the male goat. But that might get weird.”
The most unladylike noise I’ve ever made leaves me in a flurry of trying, and failing, to breathe deeply. Finally, I focus less on Beau touching my bare skin as giggles overtake me at the absurdity and inappropriateness of the older man’s joke.
Willa loses it. I’m talking sprays water from her mouth. She gets up and walks away, swiping furiously at her mane of red hair.
Rhett groans.
Jasper gets a wildly amused, shit-eating grin on his face.
Beau turns toward me, huffing a soft laugh against the curve of my neck. It’s so hot out, so stagnant, that I lean into the rush of air on my hot skin.
And Cade? Cade just sits there, glaring at his dad. “You’re getting worse the older you get. You know that?”
I can see Harvey biting at the inside of his cheek, trying so hard to keep a straight face. “What are you talking about?”
“Dad. You just made a joke about … ” Cade swipes a hand through his hair and looks at his son before deciding to forge ahead anyway. “Me jacking off a goat.”
A high-pitched gasp lurches from Beau, who is now rubbing at his eye sockets.