“The treatment didn’t work,” her doctor said solemnly, so unlike last time when the woman had practically danced a jig in her excitement to impart the good news to Bailey. “It’s time to make sure your affairs are in order…”
A knock on the door made her jump. She got the feeling it was the second or third time, which solved the mystery of what had woken her up.
She was in her efficiency apartment on the resort property. A place she’d been given for the weekends over the next two months as she worked on the mural.
Which of course was no longer going to happen since she’d come up here to tear down the scaffolding, apologize to Carrie, and paint the wall white again, hiding her grid.
Or… get over herself and her doubts and paint the mural.
Another knock on the door—whoever was out there had clearly lost patience with waiting.
She sighed and slid out of the bed. She went up on tiptoe and peered through the peephole. Damn. She sank back onto her bare feet and stared at the wood, heart pounding.
“I can hear you breathing,” Hudson said.
An entire week and still just the sound of his voice made her nipples happy. “You cannot.” Dammit. She bit her tongue to keep herself silent.
“Come on, Bailey. Open up and let me have it. You know you want to.”
Yeah, far too much.
“I have coffee, donuts, and bacon,” he cajoled. “I wasn’t sure what your poison was so I tried to cover all the basic food groups: caffeine, sugar, and trans fats. If none of those work, I’ll…”
“What?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you about Jacob.”
She stilled and then whipped open the door. “You will?”
He strode in and kicked the door shut behind him, slouching onto the couch, making himself comfortable. “No.”
“So you lied?” she asked, shocked.
He looked amused at her disbelief. “I needed to see you.” He handed over the coffee.
Eyes still narrowed, she greedily took the coffee and sipped because the caffeine was calling her name.
Huh. Sugar and a shot of vanilla cream, just the way she liked it.
She supposed that was all the apology she was going to get. She stared at him, telling herself she was not moved in the slightest by the sight of him. Even if the sight of him was incredibly sexy, all clad in a skintight black Under Armour shirt and black cargo ski pants loaded with gear coming out of every pocket.
And then there was his smile as he waggled the bag, wafting the scent of bacon and donuts, damn him, like he knew very well she couldn’t possibly resist. She blew out a breath and sat next to him.
He opened the bag. “Donuts or bacon?”
She gave him a look like he was an amateur, making him laugh.
“Both it is,” he said. He handed the whole bag over and she wasn’t mad enough at him not to dive in.
“Crispy,” she said on a moan around a bite of bacon. Just the way she loved it. And there were two donuts. She grabbed the old-fashioned chocolate glaze and offered him the other. “It must be Christmas.” The first bite of the donut yanked another moan right out of her. She had to close her eyes to savor it.
“Need a moment alone?” he asked, sounding amused again.
“Yes.” But when she opened her eyes, he was still there.
In fact, he hadn’t taken his gaze off her. “I’m glad you’re here. Glad you didn’t give up,” he said.
She was glad too. “I’m not equipped to have a deep conversation until all the sugar and fat and caffeine sinks into my system.” She licked the sugar off her thumb and dove back into the bag.
He patiently waited until she’d finished every last bite.
She looked at him, his fathomless eyes holding everything close to the vest, his square jaw suggesting equal parts strength and stubbornness. Emphasis on the stubbornness, she was beginning to learn. His broad-as-the-mountains shoulders that held the weight of his world.
He both drew her in and terrified her. “I regrouped,” she said.
He smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
“But I still don’t have all the information I need to do the full Kincaid family tree,” she reminded him.
Jacob. His name hovered between them a moment.
“Fair enough,” he said. “One question, whatever you want.”
“Where is he?”
“Missing.”
She waited for more but true to form, nothing came. “I want to ask what that means,” she said. “But the truth is, I can leave Jacob out or I can fake it. I’m a damn good faker,” she said. “I’m also insanely nosy. I’m trying to curb it out of respect for you, but I’ve never been very good at curbing myself.”
“No kidding.” He paused. “We were eighteen when he left.”
“Left? But you said he was missing.”