She blinks away, muttering, “Dick,” so quietly that I barely hear it. Eyes back on mine, she tries again. “I did some reading about socks and blistering. Ways to reduce friction.” She pulls a plastic bag from her purse and shakes it at me. “We’ve got some options to try for that too. So sit down and start trying on some combos.”
I swallow, staring down at this pint-sized powerhouse, wondering how no one else sees the compassion oozing from her pores. She’s not all frilly and sugary. There’s a refreshing get-shit-done kind of practicality about her. She’s faithful.
Her fingers snap in front of my face. “Earth to Beau Eaton?”
Then we get to work trying on shoes and socks. It’s a lot of work for Lily because I decide to be extra thorough. I try half a size up and then request half a size down for every pair of shoes, sending her back and forth every time.
Just to be sure.
I don’t miss the suspicious look Bailey eventually shoots me.
It’s almost like she’s onto the fact that I know exactly what size I wear.
“Were you sending her back and forth on purpose?” Bailey asks when I slam the driver’s side door of my truck.
I avoid her eyes as I busy myself with buckling my seatbelt. “No, I was just trying to make sure I got the right size. You saw my feet, gotta be sure.”
“Mm-hmm.” My gaze latches on Bailey’s arms, squeezed tight beneath her breasts. “Petty.”
“How is asking her to do her job petty?”
“You know. Don’t stoop to their level, Beau. It’s unbecoming.”
Leave it to the twenty-two-year-old in this fake relationship to be the mature one.
I train my face into a blank expression as I twist the key in the ignition, looking forward to the blast of cold air the vents promise. “Listen, she worked hard. All my respect to Lily.”
“Uh-huh.” I can feel the disbelief in her voice, sense it in the way her eyes work over me.
“She’ll sleep well tonight. I always do after physical labor. And maybe when she wakes up in the morning she’ll be less of a bitch. Good sleep does wonders for a person.”
Bailey scoffs at that, covering her face with her hands. Eventually she removes them, rolling her head along the back of the seat to stare at me. “Speaking of sleep. How has yours been?”
I shrug and shoulder check vigorously to avoid letting my eyes rest on her. “Fine. Speaking of trucks … ” I trail off as I pull off onto Rosewood Street, desperate to change the subject. “Let’s go get yours.”
“I don’t feel like facing my brothers, thanks. It can just rot there.”
A grin stretches my mouth. Who knew doing nice things for Bailey would become the thing that gets my body humming after months of numbness?
“Do you really think I blew my brother off just to get a haircut?”
“What?” Her voice bleeds confusion.
“The barbershop is next to the auto shop. Your truck is all fixed.”
Her fingers press into her chest. “My truck is fixed?”
“Correct. Brand new set of tires.”
“How did you get it?”
“Ordered a tow truck.”
Several beats of silence pass as I revel in the feel of the cool air blowing against my face. It’s fucking sweltering today. The kind of day that ends in a killer storm. The kind of day that has heat waves rolling just above the asphalt of the roads.
“I can’t afford this.”
“You don’t need to,” I reply. “I told you I’d take care of it. And I did.”
She just stares at me after that statement. Deep brown irises bouncing around my face, a light furrow to her brow, like I’m a puzzle she can’t quite figure out.
Because no one has ever taken care of Bailey Jansen before.
But I think it’s about time she got used to it.
Jasper’s name flashes across my console screen as I follow Bailey out of town and toward the ranch on her fresh set of wheels.
“Hey!” I shout as soon as I press the button.
“Hi.” I can hear the suspicion in his voice. “Why are you avoiding me?” He’s not a big, dumb hockey player. He’s a big, smart hockey player.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You are. You’re a terrible fucking liar for someone who supposedly worked undercover on matters of national security.”
“Jesus, did Bailey tell you to crack those jokes?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to your fiancée.”