The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3) Page 3

  It seemed I was still alive. I opened my eyes, and upon seeing the owner of the rumbly voice, I closed them again immediately. If it was possible, I became even more light-headed.

  Crap. I couldn’t handle this today.

  “Bailey,” the rumbly voice beckoned.

  I played possum.

  “I know you’re awake. Come on—I’m worried.” I did sense a tone of concern in that rumble, so I felt somewhat compelled to act like an adult.

  I opened my eyes again and saw gorgeous hazel ones staring back at mine. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Nothing to see here.” I tried for nonchalance.

  Then I remembered the gecko and sat up like a shot, cracking my head on Jake Beckett’s very chiseled, very sexy, and very hard chin in the process.

  “Ow,” we said in unison.

  “Damn, woman.” Jake rubbed his dark stubbled chin. “What’s your hurry?”

  I held my aching head and looked around frantically for Satan, trying to ignore both the hot guy and my dizziness. Priorities, people!

  “Rocco, where is he?” I demanded.

  “He ran away when you screamed. I think he’s behind the dresser.”

  “Would somebody care to explain what’s going on?” Jake asked from his kneeling position on the floor of the bedroom. “I heard you shrieking—you were passed out cold when I came in. Are you hurt?” His brow was creased in concern.

  Sigh.

  Without my permission, my eyes wandered from his face straight down to his thighs, which were straining the confines of the denim covering them. I had to close my eyes again and give myself an inner head-smack.

  No thinking about the sexy man. No! Just grow up and breathe like a normal person.

  I cleared my throat and opened one eye.

  “Um, hello, Jake.”

  He just raised an eyebrow in response.

  “I’m fine. Really. We were just looking for Rocco’s lizard and it surprised me—that’s all.”

  “And you passed out?”

  I gave a nervous titter. “Well, I don’t know if I would say I ‘passed out.’ I was just relaxing with my eyes closed.” Time to redirect. “What are you doing here, anyway? Wait—how did you get in?”

  He gave me a brief scolding look that creased his brow once more. “You left the front door unlocked. I took the liberty of letting myself in when it sounded like you’d been attacked by a chupacabra.”

  The man grinned cockily at me.

  Shit. He was sexy when he grinned. And those cheekbones…dammit.

  “What’s a chupacabra?” asked Rocco, who was now peering behind the dresser.

  Jake chuckled. “It’s this cool creature with big fangs and spikes down its back. It likes to eat goats.”

  “Awesome,” Rocco replied, trying to shove his head between the wall and his dresser.

  I raised my eyes to the ceiling. I will never understand boys. Or men.

  “What are you doing?” asked Jake.

  “Trying to get my gecko to come out.”

  “Since when do you have a gecko?”

  I had to wrest control of this situation immediately. I called on my inner bitch who could usually be found lurking just beneath the surface, right where I needed her. I cleared my throat again. “So, as you can see, we’re all fine here. I’m sure you have things you need to do today.” Subtlety is not my specialty, but he had to go.

  I tried to stand up, but my head had other ideas and decided to pitch forward. Jake grasped my arms to prevent me from face-planting on the rug.

  “Easy there.” He stood and supported me while he steered us to Rocco’s bed. “The only thing I have to do today is take you to the ER.”

  Shit.

  Why couldn’t the damn lizard have just finished me off?

  “So, let me get this straight. You babysat the kid for a grand total of twelve hours before purchasing a pet and $200 worth of supplies as a bribe? Wow. Just, wow. I believe that’s a record.” Jake leaned back in the waiting room chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The short sleeves of his gray t-shirt rode up with the action, revealing taught, tanned skin over the muscles residing there.

  I whimpered a bit to myself and then forced the image aside. He was just a man, for God’s sake. Or a god, for man’s sake? Either way, he was heartbreak waiting to happen.

  “You sound like your stupid brother. I already explained that there were tears. I panicked, okay?”

  He muffled a laugh with a fake chin scratch.

  “Bailey Murphy?” a nurse called from an open door. I stood and noticed Jake rising out of his seat as well. I stopped and gave him my best “hell no” look.

  “So, you’ll be flying solo, then?” He stopped in mid-stand.

  I gave an emphatic nod and raced on over to the door before he and Rocco could follow me.

  Couldn’t he take a hint? What was wrong with him?

  Unfortunately, the answer to that was nothing.

  I followed the nurse through the maze of hallways and was led to a small room where she proceeded to take my vitals and ask me a series of questions—when did I eat last, have I ever fainted before, what was I doing when I fainted (I may have lied on that answer), could I possibly be pregnant, do I suffer from low blood sugar. Yada, yada, yada.

  My answers all checked out and there was no indication anything was wrong with me. So, I proceeded to wait forty-five minutes for the doctor to come in and pronounce that I was fine. Just like I’d said I was.

  I was sent back out to the waiting room with instructions to drink plenty of fluids and eat several small meals throughout the course of the day. And all of this fabulous advice was mine to keep for the low, low price of $75 plus whatever bill was sure to come later.

  You could say I was displeased, so can you blame me for giving Jake the silent treatment all the way back to Laney and Nate’s?

  “I forgot,” Jake announced from his position behind the wheel of his fancy-ass truck. He apparently didn’t understand the rules of the silent treatment. “I brought Barberitos over earlier for you guys. I think I ended up leaving it in the hallway on my way in.”

  Hmm. Perhaps he could eventually be forgiven.

  “Oh?” was all I gave him for the moment.

  “What’s a barberito?” asked Rocco from the rear seat where he was playing on his tablet.

  “Only the best burrito in town.” Jake smiled and glanced toward the back.

  “Gross.”

  There was just no accounting for taste.

  Jake shrugged it off. “I’ll eat yours, dude.”

  Ha! Like I was letting that happen.

  I was struck again by the thought that everyone in the world seemed to be good with kids but me. And how unfair was it that Jake Beckett was not only hot as sin and a wizard in the sack, but he was also nice to small people and fainting women?

  What was I supposed to do with that?

  We finally pulled into the driveway and I hopped out quickly to avoid any awkward assistance that might be offered. Seeming to need no invitation, Jake followed us inside and closed the door behind him.

  I took a deep breath and firmed my back as well as my resolve.

  “As you can see, we’re all fine. I appreciate your concern—and the burritos—but everything is under control. We’ll go ahead and get on with our day and you can get on with yours.” I held my hand out toward the door like some damn restaurant hostess.

  “Uh-huh,” he replied and had the nerve to lean against the entryway wall and put his hands in his pockets.

  What was this? Was he posing for a bachelor-of-the-month calendar?

  Gah!

  I performed the hostess gesture yet again.

  This time it received a grin.

  “What?!” I demanded.

  He looked me up and down. “Uh-huh.”

  I became acutely aware of my attire and general appearance in that moment. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

  My hair was in a messy ponytail and I was dressed
in athletic shorts and a men’s t-shirt. I didn’t need to look down to know there was a ketchup stain on the hem and a dinosaur riding a bicycle on the front. I have no explanation.

  I urged myself to ignore Jake’s look and not even attempt to interpret it.

  This moment perfectly captured the reason all Jake’s texts and calls had gone unanswered over the past three weeks.

  He wasn’t texting me.

  He was texting the girl from the wedding.

  The girl I’d pretended to be for one night.

  The girl I would never be.

  The one I couldn’t afford to be.

  It wasn’t really my fault. It was the fault of every movie ever made, every book ever written, and every damn talk show ever produced. When you’re single, on the cusp of thirty, and your only sibling is getting married, things happen. Things like clocks ticking, insecurities blooming, little green demons taking up residence in your mind—all things you never knew were inside you until that day.

  So it happened that, on the day of Nate and Laney’s wedding, I’d awoken not feeling quite like myself.

  Part of the reason, I knew, was that I would be required to wear both make-up and a freaking dress to the wedding. Bailey Murphy does not do girly shit. But when a tiny, blond force-of-nature threatens your very existence if you don’t don the assigned attire (and smile while doing it), you obey. I’d seen Fiona in a temper and it was no joke. She took her maid-of-honor responsibilities very seriously and I was not about to provoke her.

  I’d shown up to fittings, as instructed, and I’d done all the oohing and ahhing at the bride (who did look stunning in her gown, by the way). And I had enthusiastically participated in the shower and bachelorette party, although I didn’t indulge as vigorously as a certain bride-to-be who had to be carried into the house by my big brother when the night was over.

  For the entire week leading up to the big day, I’d walked back and forth across my living room in a pair of ridiculously high heels, determined that I would not humiliate myself by falling on my face in front of everyone I knew.

  I’d thought I was prepared.

  I was wrong.

  I felt a twinge of something when I woke up, but I brushed it aside, as there were many things to be done—the worst of which involved Fiona plucking errant eyebrow hairs from my face that I insisted I needed to keep for warmth when winter came. She didn’t share my feelings.

  But, as the day progressed, there was no denying what was happening to me.

  I was falling victim to the oldest cliché in the book. My brother was getting married, my friends were in happy relationships, and I was single and about to turn thirty. I could almost physically feel the cloak of the proverbial Old Maid descending upon my shoulders.

  And that right there was how a tall, handsome, smooth-talking guy by the name of Jake Beckett worked the second oldest cliché in the book and got laid by a bridesmaid.

  Chapter Four

  Pickles

  JAKE

  Damn, this girl was practically squirming with discomfort. At least now I had confirmation that she wasn’t completely immune to me. I could feel the connection between us pulling tight—I hadn’t imagined it. There was a different reason she hadn’t been answering my attempts at communication since the wedding. And I was going to uncover it.

  I was finding it hard to turn down this challenge.

  While Rocco was off doing God knows what, I took my time looking Bailey over, and I’m not sure her cheeks could have flamed any brighter. It was cute, but I’d already seen her naked so I didn’t understand the bashfulness.

  I pried myself off the wall where I’d been leaning while checking her out. She had this messy, athletic thing going on—quite a departure from the polished-goddess look she’d rocked at our last encounter. But, hey, it was Sunday and she was babysitting a six-year-old. It’s not like I expected her to be wearing heels.

  I knew she wanted me to go, but that was too damn bad. I had burritos to eat, a potential date to secure, and a gecko to rescue before I left her alone.

  “So, Bailey, which one do you want?” I approached her deliberately, almost prowling. I admit I may have been laying it on a bit thick.

  The squirming increased.

  “Which what?” she practically whispered as I got nearer.

  Damn, I bet she’d light up if I touched her. I’d been dreaming about it for weeks, so it was going to be damn hard to keep myself in check.

  “Meat or no meat?” I asked quietly. This was fun.

  I actually heard her attempt to swallow and I watched her throat work.

  “Wh…what?”

  Once I was right in front of her, I bent down slowly but let my eyes remain on her face.

  Then I picked up the Barberitos bag and straightened again, casual as can be. I shrugged, like a bit of an asshole. “Burritos. I didn’t know which kind you liked so I got a variety.”

  Her eyes finally focused on the bag and she gave her head a tiny shake. Then she shot daggers at me with her piercing blue eyes.

  I deserved it.

  She smoothed a hand over her hair and turned around abruptly to stalk to the kitchen. “There’d better be a pork one in there.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, Rocco!” I yelled. “Come eat some chips!”

  It took a third of a second for the kid to emerge and race by me, snagging the brown bag on his way. I followed them to the kitchen, pleased with the progress I’d made so far.

  After the burritos were consumed, I still had two more things on my list to attend to. First, I was finding the gecko for Rocco so there would be no more fainting spells. How a person could be so freaked out by such a tiny thing was beyond me. But women are impossible to understand, as everyone knows.

  With Rocco’s help, I retrieved the little guy from behind the dresser where he had, indeed, been hiding. I had to admit, it was pretty cool-looking.

  “What’s his name?”

  “We haven’t decided yet. Aunt Bailey wants to name him Satan.”

  I barked out a laugh. “That doesn’t really suit him, does it?” I lifted the creature up and looked into his tiny face.

  “What does he like to eat?”

  Rocco scratched his head. “Um, mostly crickets, I guess.”

  “That wouldn’t be a very good name,” I replied. “Well, then, what about one of your ninja turtle names?”

  He gave me a look that said I couldn’t be more of an idiot if I tried. “He’s a lizard, not a turtle, Jake,” he explained patiently.

  Moving on.

  “Well, what do you like to eat? Besides chips.”

  He seemed to think about this for longer than necessary. “Pizza, cookies, Pop-Tarts, Cheetos, pickles, candy, strawberries, cheeseburgers, olives, graham crackers, milkshakes, Goldfish, marshmallows, cereal, bananas, and yogurt. But it has to be the squeezy kind.”

  Okay then.

  Bailey stood in the doorway. “Is it safe to come in yet?”

  “All clear. We’re just trying to come up with a name for this little guy.”

  She took a half step into the room but clearly wasn’t willing to come any closer. “Rocco rejected all my ideas.”

  “Cuz you wanted to call him Satan and Quadiosmar,” Rocco protested.

  “Well, you wanted to call him Gecko! And it was Quasimodo,” Bailey retorted.

  “Seriously?” I looked back and forth between the two. Pathetic.

  “You need to give him a happy name, one that’s fun to say. Like Popeye or Gizmo—or one of your favorite foods we were talking about,” I prompted.

  “Well, then his name is gonna be Pickles because I love pickles and he’s kinda green.”

  “Perfect,” Bailey and I said in unison, and I saw her glance my way.

  I held the gecko out to Rocco. “You put Pickles back in his tank. I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, kid.” He took the little guy from my hand. “Hold onto him so he doesn’t escape again,” I warned. “Maybe you shou
ld call him Houdini.”

  Rocco gave me a puzzled look.

  “Or not.”

  I turned and motioned for Bailey to follow me out into the hall.

  She muttered something unintelligible but did indeed follow.

  At the front door, I turned around and I swear I caught her cringing.

  What the hell?

  Before I could utter a word, she cut in, “Look, Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls—or your texts. I had a…great time at the wedding.” She ran her hand over her hair again in uneasiness. “But I’ve got a lot going on and I just don’t have time for a…thing…right now.”

  Huh. Well, that summed it up, now didn’t it. The old “it’s not you, it’s me” brush-off. But my instincts said she was still as hot for me as I was for her. I’d have to either bow out gracefully or work this from another angle. I was hoping for the latter.

  I was clearly a glutton for punishment.

  I put my hands up in a classic “I’m unarmed” position. “Okay, enough said. Sorry if it felt like I was some crazy stalker.” I laughed.

  She didn’t.

  Oh.

  “How about if we just hang out as friends, then. You know, grab a coffee, meet up with the gang for drinks…”

  “Yeah,” she said as she began walking slowly toward me. Ah, maybe this wasn’t dead yet.

  Then she reached one arm around me, and I swear I was a millisecond from swooping down and kissing her when I realized she was reaching for the fucking doorknob.

  I’d been shut down and now I was being thrown out on my ass.

  It was a tough day to be Jake Beckett.

  Fortunately, I had enough going on in my life to provide more than adequate distraction from the complete blow-off I’d just received.

  I owed Jax a call to talk about the upcoming landscaping opportunity, and I knew that should have been my top priority all along. Perhaps Bailey was a distraction I just didn’t need.

  Everything in me hoped that moving back to Greensboro to start over was the right move. I’d worked damn hard to perfect my craft and establish important connections back in Clearwater, so it wasn’t a decision I’d come to lightly. But I generally trust my instincts, and they told me to go home and reconnect with my family.