“You should because you’d be the woman who loves a murderer.”
She smacked him again, but this time he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. He stared down into her beautiful face.
“Problem is,” he whispered. “I want to do the right thing, but I’m not sure I can anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you, Bailey. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you until I didn’t see you every day. Not hearin’ your voice, your laughter … it’s killin’ me.”
“It’s killin’ me, too.” She wiped a tear away. “But what about Holt?”
“What about him?”
“He kissed you. Obviously, you’re the reason he came here. He says he stayed for me, but clearly, he’s still got a thing for you.”
Rafe shook his head, releasing his grip on her arms. “He didn’t kiss me.Ikissedhim. He wouldn’t do that to you, Bailey.”
“But you would?” With her hand free, she smacked him again, her voice raising to a high-pitched squeal. “You kissed him knowin/ that he’s with me?”
“I reacted,” he admitted.
She smacked him again. This time he backed up.
“It’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t make it okay.”
She pursued him, smacking his chest again. “But it means”—smack—“you’ve got”—smack—“feelin’s for him.”
Maybe. Probably. Feelings he hadn’t acknowledged until last night when he saw the two of them together. Rafe had spent most of the day trying to unravel the confusion. To figure out how he could possibly want both of them. He’d never understood it, although he knew it worked for some people. Since returning to Coyote Ridge, he’d watched those relationships grow, and he’d never understood how anyone could love two people at the same time.
It was possible, but that didn’t mean it would work.
“I don’t know what it means,” he said honestly. “But the last thing I want is to come between the two of you.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “You’ve been between us since the day he got here. I just didn’t know the extent of it.”
“What does that mean?”
Her lips twitched one way; her eyes moved the other. “I … umm…”
Rafe waited, knowing she would get around to it eventually. Probably when her face was as red as a sunburn, but still.
“I might’ve”—her voice lowered to nearly imperceptible levels—“fantasized about you and him.”
“Fantasized?” Rafe couldn’t hide his grin.
“And I might’ve told him about it.”
“Really?”
Bailey swatted his chest. “You don’t get to find this funny, Rafe Sharpe. Nothin’ about this is funny.”
“No, it’s not.” He grabbed her arms to stop the slapping and pulled her into him. “But it is kinda hot.”
“You might not think that if you know what the fantasy entails.”
Rafe’s cock jerked against his zipper. He’d been hard since she walked through the door, but he was attempting to handle this the right way.
“Tell me.”
