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Bailey showered, changed, and had Henri’s clothes in the wash in record time after that, and around fifteen minutes later, he walked back into the living room.
He found Henri sitting in one of the recliners that faced the wall of windows overlooking the side of the house that had no neighbors. “That used to be my mom’s favorite spot. She loved watching the birds and squirrels chase each other around the trees.”
Henri glanced up and quickly got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, or I—”
“No, no,” Bailey said, a half-smile curving his lips. “I didn’t tell you that to make you get up. I was just letting you know that that’s the spot everyone gravitates to.”
Henri nodded and looked back out the window to the large red oak trees lining that side of the property. “It’s peaceful.”
“It is,” Bailey said as he stood beside Henri. “It looks even better when the sun’s setting behind them. You’ll have to check it out sometime.”
Henri turned to look at him and narrowed his eyes. Bailey could see the wheels turning behind them.
“Look, I know there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. We were just getting to that part, and then, well, Sean happened. But that hasn’t changed the fact that I invited you here, that I want you here. So you can stop worrying that I’m about to throw you out the door, because I’m not.”
Henri smiled. “Fair enough. Although you probably should.”
“Why?” Bailey cocked his head to the side. “Do you plan to hurt me?”
“No. Of course not.” Henri let out a deep breath and looked back to the window.
“Then why should I make you leave? Because my brother told me to? I don’t think so. I stopped listening to his advice back when it stopped working for him. So, if that’s the only reason—”
“It’s not.”
“Then how about you come into the kitchen, I make that coffee, and you tell me how it is that you know my brother.”
Henri ran a hand through his hair and cracked his neck from side to side, then turned toward Bailey and nodded. “Okay.”
Bailey’s heart did a crazy skip and trip at that one word. He hadn’t been sure what kind of answer he’d get. This was a step in the right direction.
“Okay. Good.” Bailey turned to walk through to the kitchen, but halfway across the living room he stopped and rounded back as a thought hit him, and Henri was so close on his heels that Bailey almost tripped.
Henri reached out to steady him, and Bailey angled his head to look up into those serious eyes. “There’s one thing that I need to ask you before we talk, if that’s okay?”
Henri dropped his hands and swallowed. As Bailey tried to think of a subtle way to put his next request, he realized that the direct approach would probably work best.
“Don’t lie to me.” As the words left his mouth, Bailey realized how important they were to him. He’d learned the hard way how damaging lies could be, how painful it was when you uncovered the truth and discovered it was even worse than the lie that had been told in the first place.
Lying was a deal breaker for him, and he needed Henri to understand that.
“If you don’t want to answer something or, I don’t know, can’t, don’t lie about it. I’d rather you say nothing than lie to me.”
Henri’s expression remained steadfast as he held Bailey’s stare. “You have my word.”
And even with Sean’s voice in the back of his head telling him not to let Henri’s charm and packaging fool him, Bailey found himself handing over his trust as he led Henri into the kitchen to make them both that much-needed cup of coffee.
DON’T LIE TO me…
As Henri trailed Bailey into the kitchen, his eyes swept the space that the two of them had occupied less than an hour ago, and he couldn’t help but notice the distinct shift in moods from then and now. What had started out as the perfect end to their first official date had ended in the most dick-wilting manner possible—Dick being the operative word.
Of all the moments in time that Henri could’ve gotten confirmation that Bailey and the detective were related, had it really needed to happen when he was naked on the kitchen floor stroking him and his cop to orgasm?
Apparently so, because his life wouldn’t be his fucking life if the good wasn’t accompanied with a handful of shit. Now here he was, about to have a conversation that was more fitting for, oh, three to six months into a relationship…maybe. Even that was a stretch, because he was still trying to wrap his head around wanting to be in someone’s company longer than a few rolls in the sheets, let alone using words like months and relationships.
