Page 59 of Bailey

He glanced over to her. “Yeah, but not like this.”

“True.” Bailey cut into her stuffed chicken and found it cooked through and juicy. She put the first bite in her mouth, and it did contain the right amount of salt and the tang from the cream cheese. “This is so good, Reeves.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows went up as his face brightened. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great.” She reached over to him and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “They’re going to love you, Reeves,” she said in all seriousness. “And I’m the one who needs to worry, because I haven’t brought home a man since Bryce.”

She gave a light giggle, though her stomach swooped as nerves sliced through her. “And I didn’t even bring him home. My momma called him and told him he’d better come see me. I hadn’t told him I was pregnant either.”

Reeves nodded, accepting what she’d said the moment she uttered it. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Bailey grinned at him. “Then you’ll probably be the only one.” She laughed afterward. Her momma and daddy would welcome Reeves with open arms, but once they saw Bailey with him, she felt certain they’d be able to see how much she liked him already and how deep she’d gotten.

They wouldn’t say anything at the barbecue, but she’d definitely have to field a lot of questions afterward.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

“It dead-ends into it,” Bailey said. “You can’t miss it.”

Reeves swallowed and squirmed in his seat for probably the fiftieth time since he’d left his farmhouse on the north side of town. He and Bailey had gone home after they’d hiked back to the trailhead, where he’d showered and put away his camping gear and camera equipment after setting his videos to upload. Then he’d made a pot of coffee to soothe his nerves, but the caffeine only added to his jitteriness as he crested the hill and Whiskey Mountain Lodge came into view.

“Wow,” he said, though he’d looked the property up online and knew of its vastness. “You grew up here?”

“For a little bit,” Bailey said. “My momma married Graham when I was eight years old, and yes, we lived in the lodge.”

“Did they rent the rooms?”

“In the summertime, yes,” Bailey said. “We had private family suites on the main floor, and at Christmastime, all of Daddy’s brothers and their wives would come.” She sounded happy about it, and Reeves glanced over to her to find a small smile on her face.

“And their kids, and all the cowboys that had once lived or stayed at Whiskey Mountain Lodge, and all the help staff.” She gave a light laugh. “We’d have the best breakfasts, present-wrapping events, and the crowning event—the tree-lighting ceremony.”

She looked at him then, pure radiant energy flowing from her. “It’s every year on Christmas Eve, and Mom and Daddy still do it to this day.”

Reeves noted the nostalgia in her voice, and he could only guess at the memories running through her mind. “Sounds real nice, Bay.” He meant it, but he couldn’t help contrasting her version of Christmas with his. No wonder she’d invited him up to the lodge for the holidays a few months ago.

“Listen,” she said, and she cleared her throat.

Reeves looked at her as she twisted toward him. He eased up on the gas pedal and slowed as he neared the parking lot entrance. Bailey never started sentences with listen if they were good. Of course, his definition of good and hers were different, but still.

“My momma texted and said OJ is going to be here.”

“Okay,” Reeves said, doing his best not to phrase it as a question.

“They do that sometimes. A lot, maybe, I don’t know. They bring OJ up to the lodge, or they take him to the movies, or go horseback riding,” she said. “The adoption is open, and he calls my daddy Grandpa Graham.”

That did surprise Reeves a little bit, and he pulled into a parking space next to a blue pickup truck. “Wow. What does he call Bryce’s dad?”

“Uncle Tex,” Bailey said automatically. “Because it really kind of fits. Tex is technically his uncle, because he’s Otis’s brother.”

“Sure,” Reeves said, though the limbs of this family tree seemed a bit convoluted.

“It’s just what they worked out,” Bailey said. “I wasn’t in town for any of it, and it’s not really any of my business, anyway. Otis and Georgia have always done what they think is best for OJ.”

Reeves reached over and took her hand in his, pulling it away from her other one where she twisted her fingers together—a tell of her anxiety. “It’s going to be fine, wildflower,” he murmured. “I’ve been a bit of a recluse, but I can people if I have to.”

She smiled at him. “You know people isn’t a verb, right?”