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Her dad glanced at both bags, frowned, and then turned to me, seeing my arms were free and that I’d just made his daughter carry my things.
Face flaming hot with embarrassment, I opened my mouth to say something, but hell, my mind was totally blank of excuses.
Turned out, I didn’t need to worry about explaining myself. Bailey’s dad took one look at my face and said, “Jesus. What the hell happened to you, kid?”
And now I knew where Bailey had gotten her tact.
“About a couple dozen different fists,” Bailey answered for me. “Over the course of a week. We’ll tell you all about it over supper.”
Oh, so she was planning on tell him the truth, then? That was relieving to learn, and yet still concerning. What if he didn’t believe her defense of me? What if he didn’t find me innocent? What if—
“What’s for supper, anyway? I’m starving.”
“Chili,” her dad answered her as he continued to suspiciously eye me up and down. “We can settle him into Blaine’s room, I suppose. I did have a mattress laid on the floor of yours, but that was before I knew she was a he.”
Bailey merely shrugged. “Whatever. As long as he has a place to sleep, he’ll be fine.” Then she crinkled her nose. “But where’s Blaine? Is he not going to be home for Thanksgiving?”
“Nope.” Her dad turned away and picked up both her bag and mine before trudging up the stairs and leaving us to follow. I almost wanted to fling my hands in the air over the hopelessness of it and then shout that I was fully capable of carrying my own damn bag. “He’s gone to spend the holiday with his girlfriend at her family’s place up in Plainville.”
“Wait.” Bailey jerked to a stop so fast in front of me I nearly ran into her. “Blaine has a girlfriend?”
“Yep.” Her dad sounded placid about it. “It’s pretty serious too. He’s planning on moving in with her this weekend.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Bailey breathed.
Her father kept his same monotone voice and steady pace as he repeated, “Yep. And watch your language, little lady.”
Bailey glanced back at me, her eyes widening over this new development with her brother, but then she turned back and hurried after her dad. “Is she nice? She’s not a bitch, is she? You know, there’s room for only one bitchy chick in this family, and that’s me.”
“She seems sweet enough,” he answered on a shrug. “And don’t call yourself bitchy. You’re high-spirited, impulsive and bluntly honest, but not bitchy.”
Bailey gave her own shrug as if it were all the same difference to her.
Her dad dropped her bag off first, and I barely got a peek into her childhood bedroom before they were moving on to the next door down the hall. I followed everyone into what I guessed was Blaine’s room—the walls covered with cowboy motif and swimsuit-model posters—just in time to catch sight of her dad setting my luggage onto an unmade bed.
“Sheets were washed last week so they’re somewhat clean,” he informed me.
I nodded, and murmured, “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”
I wanted to apologize for surprising him with my maleness, but then…there were more surprises in store for him about me, and those would probably require much more groveling than a mere gender misunderstanding. I might need to store up all my sorrys for then.
My voice seemed to startle him. It made me realize this was the first time I’d actually spoken since meeting him.
He nodded before his gaze wandered curiously over the bruises on my face. “I didn’t catch your name, son.”
“Oh! Sorry. I’m Beck.” I held out my hand to him without thinking, but a split second before he took my fingers, I remembered I still had traces of Humphrey’s doggy drool all over my palm. I was about to retreat when Bailey’s dad shook with me.
“Ben Prescott,” he greeted. “Welcome to our home.”
I wasn’t too sure if he’d share that sentiment when he learned who I really was. More guilt piled onto my shoulders. Here I was, invading his home under a layer of deceit and I’d just shook his hand with dirty fingers. Feeling like a complete shit stain, I glanced uneasily toward Bailey.
She seemed blissfully unaware of my dilemma. “So, the chili’s ready to eat now, right?” she pressed, rubbing her stomach. “Because I’m starving.”
Her dad laughed and ruffled her hair. “Yeah, soup’s on as soon as you’re ready. I’ll let you two wash off your travel dust, and we’ll meet you in the kitchen. I like the new hair, by the way. It’s a hell of a lot better than that peacock look you had before.”
As he started away, she scowled after him. “It was a rainbow, not a peacock, and I liked the rainbow.”
“Then why didn’t you keep it?” he shot back.
