A Wish For Love (Gates-Cameron 2)

“You know, strange. He started stalking me. Demanding to know where I was all the time. Who I was seeing. Threatening me. It went on for a couple of months. It was too much for me to deal with on top of my unhappiness at work. One day, I just lost it. I told my boss what he could do with his attitude—and he canned me, of course. That evening, Larry showed up on my doorstep and I told him off, too. I started screaming at him and throwing things at him like a maniac.

“I told him if he ever came near me again, I would take his head off. I didn’t mean it, naturally, but I was so steamed I was saying anything that popped into my mind. He wasn’t used to anyone fighting back—apparently, his ex-wife was a doormat until she finally got the nerve to get away from him. Anyway, he left and I started packing, and the next day I was on a plane headed here.”

Ian hadn’t understood some of the terms she’d used, but the gist of her tale was clear. “If I ever see him, I’ll take care of him for you. Permanently,” he said quietly. He knew his threat was an empty one—there was little he could actually do to the man—but it felt good to say it.

Bailey jerked around to face him. “You would do no such thing! Honestly, Bran, you sound like a vigilante. You should know that violence is no solution to anything.”

“And you should know by now that it’s dangerous to get involved with other people’s problems.” His own, for that matter, he thought glumly.

“I told you, I’ve quit doing that. I learned my lesson.”

Ian glanced toward the inn through the blurring curtain of ram. “What about the housekeeper and Mark Winter? Aren’t you getting involved with them?”

“Well, maybe I offer a little advice, a sympathetic ear…” Her voice faded, and she grimaced self-consciously. “Okay, you’re right. I should stay out of it. It’s just that I hate to see people I like being unhappy.”

She looked at him, and he knew the conversation had suddenly turned more personal. “You, for example,” she murmured. “You seem so lonely. Why won’t you let me introduce you to Aunt Mae and the others? Why do you have to wait alone for Anna?”

“I haven’t been alone,” he reminded her. “Not all the time. I’ve been with you.” She couldn’t possibly know how grateful he was for these too-brief moments of companionship.

She swung her feet to the floor and scooted closer to him on the bench. “It’s getting colder,” she said softly.

He tensed, prepared to move quickly away. “You should go inside.”

“I will. In a minute. Despite the cold, it’s nice out here, isn’t it?”

He heard the rain on the roof of the little gazebo, and on the grounds surrounding them, muting other sounds from the inn and the almost-deserted parking lot. The tiny white lights glowed softly above them, creating a secluded island in the dark, wet night. He didn’t feel the cold, but he was very aware of Bailey, sitting so close.

“It is nice,” he agreed huskily. And painful, he could have added, but he wasn’t willing to explain how much it hurt to be so close to her without being able to touch her.

“Bran, may I ask you something?”

He eyed her warily. “What?”

“Have you been camping on Mr. Carmette’s property?”

“I haven’t been camping on anyone’s property,” he assured her flatly. “I don’t even know who Mr. Carmette is.”

“He lives on the other side of the woods. He reported a trespasser last night.”

“And you thought I was that trespasser?”

“It crossed my mind,” she said with a hint of apology.

“You were mistaken.”

“Casey—the housekeeper’s little girl—thought she saw someone looking in her window late Friday night, the first night you visited me in the cottage. I, er, don’t suppose—”

“I don’t peer into bedroom windows, either,” he said crossly. He still had his honor, for whatever it was worth now.

The memory flashed through his mind of standing beside Bailey’s bed, watching her sleep. No need to mention that. The point was, he hadn’t been lurking outside the inn, looking into windows.

“I didn’t think you would. I just had to ask.”

He nodded curtly.

Bailey laughed softly. “I’ve offended you. You’ve gotten all stiff and sulky again.”

His eyebrows drew downward. “I don’t sulk.”