“I’m sorry…I…tried to take your notebook?” She finished on a high note, not sure what else to say.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”
She chuckled. “I’m sorry I threatened to kill you.”
He pursed his lips and pulled her close again. “Better.” Then he whispered, “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say to you.”
“I’m sorry I keep confusing you with my mixed signals.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you see what was inside my notebook.”
“Uh.” She thought for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish what we started.”
He pulled back again and lifted one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing worse than sexual frustration. You’ve forced me to make boring conversation with a snobby librarian.”
He laughed breathily in her ear. “Ditto.”
“Ditto what? You’re sorry we didn’t get all our clothes off, or ditto you were talking to a snobby librarian, too?”
He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
“You guess? So, in other words, you could take it or leave it.”
“In other words, I don’t have the words to express how I feel about not getting you naked.”
Bailey nodded. “Is that why you haven’t talked to me? You don’t know what to say?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s so unlike you, Ryan Walker. It must be very frustrating.”
“Almost as frustrating as not getting naked with you.”
She laughed. “You’re usually so eloquent, so good at expressing yourself.”
“Yeah, well, my linguistics coach passed away recently, and I haven’t been quite right since.”
The song ended, and Bailey stopped moving. Ryan didn’t release her. “There’s another. Just stay put.”
Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine” started playing. Bailey relaxed again in his arms. “Never send me to the jukebox again. You’re so much better at picking songs,” she said.
“It’s the country music. It clouds the brain.”
“I’m sorry I keep forgetting you lost her, too.”
“She was always there,” he said.
“I know.” Bailey rested her head on his chest. “We can’t let everything fall apart now that she’s gone.” Bailey noticed her companion had left his barstool and was now sitting with the blonde Ryan had abandoned.
“Bay, I think I should move out of the house.”
She stopped moving and met his eyes. That was the last thing she had expected and the last thing she wanted. “Why?”
“It’s just not going to work.”
She released him and went back to her barstool. Her shot was gone, and she wondered if the librarian decided to drink it himself.
She sipped her margarita and tried not to look over at Ryan as he sat down.
“I can move back into the house with Lucas and Wade.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You can stay in the house. I’ll stay in my apartment.”
He ordered himself a beer and another shot for her. “I can’t do that. You should live there.”
“You wanted to be close to your dad. You want Mom’s music room so bad, you can taste it. I couldn’t take that away from you.”
“It’s your house. I’m not— Will you look at me?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. What made him think she wanted to live alone in her mother’s house? “No, I can’t live there alone. I’m not ready for that. I was only moving in because you were there.”
“Bailey…”
“Stop arguing with me. I’m happy in my apartment, anyway. It would never have worked.” Now she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle him bringing a woman home, and she knew that was mutual.
After a long moment of silence, he said, “Bailey…”
She felt his eyes on her, but he didn’t say another word until she looked up at him.
His expression was intense and resolute. “There is nothing else to talk about, so stop pressuring me.”
“Ryan, I just want to know how you feel…how you felt that morning on the boat.”
“No, that’s not true. That’s not all you want.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You want nothing to change between us, and I’m fighting with everything I have to keep my promise, even though every touch makes it harder and harder.” He sighed, his eyes intense on hers. “You can’t have it both ways.”
Bailey lowered her eyes to her drink. He was right. Damn it. He was right, and she was a needy bundle of dysfunction. But she couldn’t ignore the underlying message he was sending. He wanted her. God, she’d been nothing but a prick tease. How could she not realize? “I understand, and I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bailey got a call from her cousin Anna telling her Patrick had sent another postcard. She invited Bailey and Ryan over for breakfast the following morning. She had some things for Bailey, and she offered to let them see all the postcards sent from Patrick.
Bailey sat at Anna’s kitchen table, staring at photos of her father as a child. She didn’t have as many memories of him as she had of her mother, so the pictures were a precious gift to her. She missed him so much.
Bailey and Ryan had arrived at Anna’s and were greeted by her husband, Stephen. He was charming and considerate. Bailey couldn’t ignore how much he doted on Anna. She tried not to feel envious of their clear attachment.
Anna and Stephen had only been married a year. Anna was only twenty-four—almost four years younger than Bailey. She and Bailey probably would have been close if Bailey’s family hadn’t moved away from Appleton.
“My father was devastated when Ernie died. For some reason, he carried a lot of guilt around his brother’s death, but I don’t understand why.”
Bailey looked up from the photos, her brows drawing together. “Why guilt?”
“I don’t know. I can only assume it had to do with his good health compared to Ernie’s poor health.” She leaned forward and pointed to the two boys, who looked to be in their early twenties. “I love this one. My dad said it was a few days before he left for California.”
“Patrick moved to California?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, he went to school there. UCLA.”
“I had no idea,” Bailey murmured.
“Apparently, your dad gave up going
