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What a question. He didn’t care about anything on the page. Their proximity had him locked in, close enough that he breathed in her light scent. He didn’t know if it was her shampoo or lotion, but it was a hint of a scent that was entirely her. One that he shouldn’t be able to drink in and identify. She was too close. This was too intimate.

She tipped her head back. Their eyes locked. Had this been any other woman, Wes would have kissed her. Simple. He would have pulled her close and backed her onto the bed. He would have lifted that skirt and torn away anything that blocked him from sliding into her. He could almost imagine pumping inside Bailey. Of feeling her snug around him, tight and hot and driving him to the brink until he blew hard, deep inside her hungry body.

Fuck, he had to get a hold of himself. Her wide eyes watched him as if she could read his mind and saw every single thing he wanted. His breath quickened, and her light blue gaze wasn’t telling him that would be a bad idea. She wanted him too.

Wes stepped back. It was a bad, bad, bad idea.

She jerked her chin down to the restaurant list. Regret and responsibility commingled in his blood along with red-hot desire. Bailey cleared her throat. “Let’s go to a fish fry place.”

Loud. Greasy. Filled with tourists. “Exactly what I was thinking. Perfect.”

Chapter Twelve

A notation at the bottom of the restaurant list suggested they call for reservations or put their name on a waitlist. Bailey was grateful that Wes offered to do that. He left to drop his bag in his room, giving her a few minutes to get ready. She didn’t need to do much, but they needed space.

She’d been wrong. The attraction wasn’t one-sided, and that confused her more than anything. Wes didn’t like her. At least, he hadn’t until they worked through his grudge and got back to working well together.

Or maybe she was being too naïve. He didn’t have to like her that way to feel an attraction. God, this all felt too confusing and juvenile, and she’d been out of the dating pool too long to understand what he might be thinking.

Dating? Dating probably hadn’t even occurred to him. It wasn’t really occurring to her now. She was too out of practice with a man. Especially a man like that. Bailey fell face first onto the bed and screamed into a pillow.

Enough with overthinking. She jumped up and called Kimbra.

Matt answered the phone, “Guess what?”

“Hi, sweetie. What?”

“I pet a chicken and a duck and pig and cow. And we went on a hayride, and Mrs. Lacey sneezed a hundred times in a row. I tripped and got a Band-Aid with purple pokie dots.”

“Pokie dots” always made her smile. “That sounds like so much fun.”

“It was. We took lots of pictures. And I fed a goat. They don’t oink.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Wes.”

“And the baby chicken cheep, cheep, cheep. There was a dog and barn cats. So many kittens. But they’re all going to get paid.”

“Spayed?”

“Yeah, that. So they don’t have their kittens. Do you know what we had for dinner?”

She stifled a groan. “Spaghetti-Os.”

Matt laughed. She thought it was a pretty funny idea too.

“Pizza but no sauce and cheese.”

“Ooh, tasty,” Bailey said.

“Mom. No. They forgot the cheese. And the sauce. It was shiny with oil and had sandwich stuff on it, but it didn’t taste like ham or turkey. Mrs. Lacey said it was shutto, but I didn’t want shutto because it sounds like poop.”

“Maybe it was prosciutto.”

“Maybe—Grandma says I shouldn’t have said poop, and I havfta say sorry.”

Listening to their conversation was probably aging Kimbra. Wes knocked on her door. She let him in. “Be off in a minute.”

“Is that Wes?” Matt asked.