“Oh, you hush up.”
Rafe followed her to the driver’s side, opening the truck door for her. When Bailey climbed in, he did the same, right behind her.
“Hey! I saidIwas drivin’.”
“Scoot on over, darlin’,” he insisted, not giving her a chance to argue.
Bailey huffed. “Rafe Sharpe, I donotlike your high-handedness.”
Rafe chuckled. “Get used to it, woman.”
“I don’t have to get used to nothin’.” She sighed but crawled over the console to the passenger seat.
He held out his hand for the keys, which she’d snagged from his pocket, and waited patiently until she dropped them into his palm. With a twist of his wrist, Rafe started the truck, backed it out of the space, and headed toward Bailey’s house.
Even after all this time, Rafe still couldn’t believe he was back here, back in the town where he grew up. Couldn’t believe his brother was still here, living in that old house that he’d turned into a fancy bed-and-breakfast where strangers traipsed through every day and night.
The day Rafe turned eighteen, he’d left Coyote Ridge and everyone he knew, swearing he would never come back. He walked away from Uncle Owen, his aunt, his cousins, even his brother, the only person he gave a shit about in the world. And he didn’t look back. Not necessarily because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Rafe had killed his bastard of a father, and the stigma associated with it and the events leading up to it had brought a dark cloud over his family. To alleviate some of their stress, Rafe had moved on.
But not without consequences.
Back then, Rex had been expecting Rafe to move into the farmhouse, to go to college, to let Rex take care of him. Rafe hadn’t been able to do it, hadn’t wanted to drag his brother down like that. So, he’d bought a bus ticket and headed for the coast. Ended up working in the refineries in Corpus Christi for a while. Not glamorous, but he made ends meet that way. For a few years, he managed to stay off the grid. How Rex eventually found him, Rafe didn’t know. For the years that followed, he’d kept in touch with his brother, replying to a text every so often so Rex knew he was alive. And that had been his plan. Carry on elsewhere and not be a burden on the family he had left in Coyote Ridge.
Until three years ago.
Something had compelled him to come back here. Perhaps it was that he missed his brother, or maybe he’d simply been running from something else, and this was the only direction to go. Whatever it was, he had woken up one morning, hopped in his truck, and started driving.
His destination had turned out to be his brother’s front porch.
“Did Rex mention I’ve got an interview with him tomorrow?” Bailey asked when they’d driven in silence for a few minutes. “He called me this mornin’. Outta the blue.”
Rafe cut his gaze to her. “Interview for what?”
“To work at the B and B.”
He knew Bailey had never intended to waitress forever. She claimed she enjoyed it, but she was constantly on the hunt for something more fulfilling. Why she didn’t want to work at her family’s bakery, he didn’t know, but he didn’t question it either.
“Well, I figured that. Doin’ what?”
“Whatever he wants me to do. I know he’s lookin’ to hire someone to manage the place, but I don’t have that kind of experience.”
Having spent the better part of the last two years confined to the B and B since they were doing a good amount of business, Rex had become serious about hiring a manager for the Double R Retreat—a ridiculous name for a bed-and-breakfast if Rafe had ever heard one. Being that Rex was married to Jack, the two of them had been forced to see less of each other because of Jack’s job. Evidently, being a world-famous graphic novelist required you to trek across the country—and sometimes the globe—to make appearances at various comic conventions dedicated to whatever it was he wrote about. Because Rex was hoping to cash in on some of those travel opportunities, he was looking for someone to take over full-time.
“You’ve got a degree, don’tcha?”
Bailey sighed again. “Yeah. From anonlinecollege.”
She said it like it was a four-letter word.
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothin’, I guess. But that doesn’t always make up for experience.”
“What kind of experience do you need?” Rafe glanced her way.
Bailey chuckled. “It’s not nearly as easy as it looks. You’ve gotta manage reservations, take care of the guests, ensure the house is in workin’ order, cook meals, coordinate events.”
“You could do that easy,” he told her, his attention on the road.
