“No,” Mack said seriously. “You got yourself a bar. But Jeff did tell me I couldn’t make you think you were gettin’ fired when you haven’t done a damn thing wrong. You make it too easy, kid.”
“You think this is funny?” Rafe accused.
“Itisfunny.” Mack stood tall and grinned. “I’mfunny.”
“Since when?”
Mack winked at Jeff. “Since I married this guy.”
“What can I say?” Jeff chuckled. “I rubbed off on him.”
“Hey. What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom,” Mack said, deadpan.
Jeff snorted and nearly spat out his beer.
“Fuck off,” Rafe rasped. “Both of you.”
Jeff slapped Rafe on the back. “Congrats, man. I think you’re gonna do this place justice. Just do me a favor, will ya?”
“Hmm?”
“Burn that damn flamingo picture.”
***
Bailey finally found a moment of peacearound seven o’clock that night.
When Rex offered to keep an eye on things so she could take a break, she jumped at the opportunity and extended an invitation for Holt to come to her apartment for dinner. He had accepted without batting an eye.
Now, here she was, pacing the kitchen, second-guessing everything. The food, the sundress she was wearing, the earrings. Even the wine she’d chosen.
Was she expecting too much? She hadn’t had a minute alone with Holt since that morning in the kitchen, and she was pretty sure that was partially his doing. Was he purposely keeping his distance? Did he accept her invitation so as not to be rude? Was he no longer interested? Had she moved too fast and turned him off?
To be fair, he had said he was writing. And it wasn’t like she’d had a minute to spare with the B and B filled nearly to capacity. But wouldn’t they make an effort if they cared about each other? Maybe exchange a text during the day? Say hello in passing?
She figured, technically, that was what tonight was about. Maybe she was overthinking this.
The knock on her front door surprised her. She shrieked, then broke into a fit of laughter at her stupidity.
“Comin’!” she called out as she grabbed her glass of chardonnay and carried it with her. Surviving tonight would only happen under one condition: there would have to be alcohol involved. Lots and lots of it. Good thing this was her first glass. From the second bottle.
Bailey composed herself and stood tall before opening the door.
Holt was standing in the hallway with a beautiful bouquet in his hand. Orange orchids and yellow sunflowers formed a lovely arrangement that, oddly enough, matched the colors in her dress.
He held them out.
“They’re beautiful,” she said with awe, taking them and stepping back out of the way. “Thank you.”
“Something smells amazing.”
Nerves rioted in her belly, but Bailey managed to reply with, “I cooked. It’s homemade chicken pot pie.”
She flashed him a smile as she carried the flowers into the kitchen. She retrieved a vase out of the bottom cabinet. It was one she’d “borrowed” from the extras pile that Rex and Jack had in the furniture building. She hadn’t been sure she would ever need it, but her romantic heart had hoped this would happen someday, and she wanted to be prepared. Good thing she was.
“Would you like some wine?” she offered as she filled the vase with water.
“Love some.”
