Bailey was on her way out, when her aunt stopped her.
“Bailey?”
“Yes, Aunt Mae?”
“Who is Bran?”
Bailey froze. Had she really said his name aloud?
She swallowed, thinking how unfair she’d been to complain of the others’ secrets when she was keeping a rather sizable one of her own. “I’ll—I’ll tell you later, okay, Aunt Mae?”
Her aunt cocked her head in curiosity, but didn’t press. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Bailey swallowed a groan. And to think she’d come to Arkansas to escape from her problems!
Had she known that within two weeks of her arrival she would be falling in love with a man who was probably going to break her heart, that she would barely escape a tragic car accident and would get caught in the middle of a stormy romance between her brother’s friends, she probably would have stayed in Chicago.
SHE HADN’T BEEN KILLED. Not even seriously injured, from what he could tell.
He doubled his fist and slammed it against his thigh. He thought he’d been so clever. Thought it would have looked like an unsolved hit-and-run accident, probably blamed on kids. His name would never have come up. No one around this hick town had ever heard of him. No one would have guessed that only one person out of the carful of females had been targeted for retaliation.
It looked as if he was going to have to take care of this the old-fashioned way, he thought as he ripped open a packet of powder with his teeth. Close up and in person.
There’d be more satisfaction that way, anyway.
It no longer mattered to him if he was caught. What more did he have to lose?
She was going to pay for the humiliation she’d caused him.
BRAN WAS WAITING outside the cottage when Bailey arrived.
She tried to hide the rush of sheer relief she felt when she saw him, though she suspected she wasn’t overly successful. “I wasn’t sure you would come today.”
His own expression was shuttered, though his eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her tremble. “I wasn’t sure I could. But I very much wanted the chance to make sure you’re all right.”
“As you can see, I’m fine.” Forcing her hand to hold steady, she stuck her key in the lock. “Come in. I’ll make coffee or something.”
“I can’t stay.”
She tensed at the heaviness of his voice, sensing that he was turning down more than coffee.
“Can’t? Or won’t?” she asked, staring fixedly at the doorknob to avoid his eyes.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” she whispered. The doorknob blurred through the film of tears in her eyes. “Yes, Bran. It matters.”
“Bailey—”
She shoved open the door. “Never mind. If you want to go, I won’t detain you.”
“Bailey, you don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t understand!” she snapped as she stepped into the cottage and spun to face him. “How can I? You won’t tell me anything. No one around here will tell me anything, damn it!”
He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, watching her with tormented eyes. “I only wanted to help.”
She drew a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, clinging to what little pride she had left. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable.”