Her only hope was that it was a temporary side effect of the link. A hormonal imbalance of the magical variety. Because it wouldn’t end well if it wasn’t, and they all knew it. She’d be left here, knowing they existed, knowing it all existed, and nothing else would ever be enough again.
You could leave. You have money. It wasn’t enough to buy the inn, but it could take you somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Bailey dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. She was not her mother and Sedona was the home she’d chosen. It didn’t matter how big the world had suddenly gotten, this part of it was hers.
They could leave. And they would, as soon as she found whatever it was Cam wanted in the attic.
She pulled her truck into its spot behind the inn and walked swiftly through the garden until the front porch came into view. She paused, touching her temple as her vision blurred. Then she was on the roof, looking down at a woman in sparkly shorts and a cowboy hat, humming in the garden. The gut punch of arousal wasn’t as surprising as the longing.
They never stayed anywhere long enough to plant a garden, but she enjoyed it so much, it made him wonder if it would be as satisfying as it looked. Her happy, off-pitch hum made him smile. He didn’t want to smile, didn’t want to like her, but everything she did made her more intriguing. He almost laughed out loud when he finally recognized The Doors’ song. Hello, I Love You. He already knew her name, but he wanted to know more. Needed to get closer. Cam was probably going to kill him.
Bailey stumbled, righting herself with her hand on her welcome boulder. That was what Davide felt when he first saw her? What he’d thought?
She kept moving. “It doesn’t matter.”
The first thing she noticed when she walked inside was the distinctive smell of sage.
And the quiet. Cam’s entourage-slash-menagerie was gone, and so was Cyndy. Unless they’d all joined Grandpa Will in his soon-to-be-infamous attic caper.
Did Kaya know Dani had brought her grandfather over to talk to ghosts? Probably not. She was no dummy, and Kaya would not approve.
Bailey slipped off her heels, mentally rolled up her sleeves and started up the stairs to the second floor of the inn. The smell of pine and sawdust hit her nose first, followed by more of that sage Will must be burning. What was he thinking, lighting fires around ancient, flammable things? And old Mr. Olyphant. She was so going to get sued.
No. Cam is.
That didn’t make her feel any better.
She walked down the hall, studying the new ladder. It was foldable, sturdy and lovely all the way around. Alwin was a miracle worker to get it installed this quickly, and so was Ava for thinking of him. It should have occurred to Bailey, but she hadn’t been herself lately. Not since she’d met Cameron Locke.
It was like holding sunlight. Everything about her was bright and beautiful and warm. She was so soft, and when her scent washed over him, he wanted to forget all his responsibilities and take her to bed for a week. Or stay right where he was and hold her as long as she’d let him. He needed to kiss her. When was the last time he’d been this desperate for an innocent taste? Was it the first time he’d seen Davide? He felt twinge of guilt that the impulse was that strong. Stronger. Who was this woman who’d dropped into his arms? Why did he want to keep her? Why did she feel like home?
“Stop it,” Bailey snarled softly at the vision, clinging to the ladder with both hands for support. “I don’t want to know this.”
She needed it to stop before she collapsed in a worthless heap on the floor. They’d gotten their point across. They were attracted to her, even believed they liked her. But they would still leave. “So get out of my head.”
There had to be a way for her to control this. Maybe a memory of her own to ground her. Something painful that was the complete opposite of the tender thoughts and endearing emotions she was getting from both men.
She took a deep breath and scratched at an old wound in her mind. She knew the one. The memory she always avoided, but never forgot.
A teenager standing in a dying garden in front of a dark trailer. She was hungry, needed new shoes and the electricity had been turned off, but it was the first time she’d cried in the months since her mother left.
She’d been so stupid, believing that if she neglected the flowers, her mother would somehow know. That she’d have to come back and take care of them, because she loved them. But they’d withered and died. Like she would, if she stayed where she was, expecting something to change instead of making a plan to take care of herself.