The only person who ever came to his apartment was Violet, and that was generally when she needed his help with something in the bookstore. Something told him Violet didn’t need his help, and she wasn’t waiting on the other side of that door.
Which meant he had a fifty/fifty chance of guessing who was out there.
He glanced around to ensure the place was decent enough for a guest. There wasn’t much he could mess up, and as long as no one went into his bedroom, they wouldn’t know that he didn’t bother to make his bed.
The knock sounded again.
“I’m comin’,” he grumbled, unlocking the deadbolt.
He swung the door open, expecting to see Holt but found Bailey standing there instead.
Rafe swallowed hard and reminded himself to breathe.
“Can we talk?”
Was it possible? Yes. Could he at the moment? Probably not.
Figuring she didn’t want to hear his excuses, Rafe nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing her to enter. She was only the fourth person to have ever been there. Violet being the first. Rex and Jack being the second and third.
“Not a carnival on a fall night, but it’s nice,” she said as she scanned the space.
“What?”
Bailey turned to look at him. “Nothing.”
She looked good. She was wearing one of his favorite outfits, the white halter top that crisscrossed over her chest and tied behind her neck and across her lower back, leaving her tanned shoulders and back mostly bare, and a pair of frayed-edge jean shorts with the little jeweled flip-flops.
“I have one question to ask you.”
Rafe stood before her, his chest constricting as he waited patiently.
“Are you gay?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Well, words were forming. That was a good sign.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s two questions.”
Her eyebrow twitched.
“Yes.” He exhaled. “I’m sure.”
“It’s okay if you are,” she stated. “I won’t judge. I just—”
Rather than let her ramble, as she was prone to do, Rafe closed the gap between them, cupped her face in his hands, and sealed his mouth to hers.
Bailey gasped, her soft hands curling around his biceps as she parted her lips and allowed him entrance. He kissed her the way he’d wanted to kiss her for the past three years. He cradled the back of her head, tilted his, and deepened the kiss, lazily dragging his tongue against hers.
She tasted exactly as he’d imagined, like the orange gum she liked to chew. Only better. Sweeter.
He finally pulled back, forcing himself to release her.
“Is that proof enough for you?”
She touched her lips with her fingertips and nodded. A second later, her wonder faded, and she planted her hands on her hips. “If you’re not gay, why didn’t you want me?”
