Bailey

I sat at that bar for another hour, sipping my wine, followed by a glass of water. I'm sure the bartender was real happy with me taking up a seat and ordering only one drink, but I had a lot to think through. The background noise helped me sit with my thoughts and not freak out.

Jack was killing me. Yes, I was back to calling him Jack. He hadn't apologized, but that soul-bearing confession was even better. Not better as in, everything's hunky-dory, but better as in, he was off my shit-list.

I was both elated that he felt so much for me and deflated that he'd already discounted what I could be to him, or what we could be together. He'd made a judgement about who I was and then dismissed me.

I actually felt sorry for him. I know, pretty weird for me to be sad for him rather than just mad. But hey, it looked like I was maturing. Seriously though, he thought he wanted some push-over woman to fetch him beer and make him dinner. Mark my words, he'd be bored within the first week of marriage. What he really needed was someone to bring life back into his day. And you don't bring life to a man by being a doormat.

Maybe one of his friends could knock some sense into him. In the meantime, I wouldn't be putting my life on hold. I'd be out and about looking for Mr. Right, even if I thought I'd found him already. He couldn't be Mr. Right if he didn't want to be him.

I settled my bill and pushed my way through the crowd to get to the bathrooms. The hallway in the back of the bar where the restrooms were located was about a hundred times quieter than the bar, although the lack of sufficient overhead lighting was a bit disconcerting.

I ducked into the ladies and took care of business. I grabbed my keys out of my clutch and threw open the door to enter the hallway. Jack stood directly in front of me, causing me to stumble in surprise.

He caught me by my arms, holding me upright.

"Jack!" He'd nearly given me a heart attack jumping out like that in the dark.

"Bae..." he mumbled, eyes looking almost closed.

Ah man, the boy was drunk as a skunk.

"Do you have a ride home, Jack?" I tried to get his attention by getting in his face. His smirk was wobbly though just as potent.

"Gonna sleep right here." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to a dark corner of the hallway, then pitched to that side.

"Whoa, there, mister." I grabbed him by the shoulders and kept him upright, which was saying something since he was heavier than I thought and I was in four inch stilettos. "Why don't I drive you home, huh?"

He didn't argue, so I put my arm around his waist to steer him out of the hallway. He took advantage by putting his arm around my shoulders and cooperated as I got us out of the bar. It took ten times as long as it should have to get down to the parking garage and then get him in my car, but I managed it, wishing the whole time I could record this for blackmail purposes later. As it was, my arms were too full to pull it off.

I didn't know where he lived, so when his eyes closed and he leaned his head back against the seat and fell asleep, I took him back to my place. If he didn't wake up, he'd have to sleep in the car. There was no way I could get him into my house by myself.

All the stars aligned, and he woke up when I parked the car outside my place. He looked around in confusion, then saw my face and smiled. That dimple came out, and I thought of all the ways I could take advantage of him. I controlled myself, remembering I wasn't what he wanted anyway, and got him into the house.

We stumbled over to my couch and I let him fall onto it. The cushions were soft, he'd be fine. I told him to stay put while I got some blankets. I made a quick stop in my room to strip off my dress and heels, putting my comfy pajamas on before getting the blankets and pillow he would need.

When I got back to the couch, he was passed out sitting upright, the worry lines finally smoothed out on his face. I sighed, the sight tugging hard on my heartstrings.

Then I took his shoes off and grabbed him under the arms to swivel him down to lying. I hefted his legs up on the couch and struggled to take his jeans off. I totally did not look at his boxers or appreciate the bulge that resided there, just one piece of flimsy cloth away from my curious hands. I put a pillow under his head and indulged myself by raking my hands through his thick hair.

When I felt like my caresses might be crossing the line into creepy, I dropped a kiss on his forehead and put a glass of water with three ibuprofen tablets on the coffee table for him. He was would be hurting when he woke up. One last reluctant glance at the irritatingly beautiful man and I was off to bed where sleep eluded me and our conversation looped over and over again.

Jack

I woke to slamming cupboard doors and imaginative cursing. I didn't even have to open my eyes to know I was with Bailey. That voice turned me on and made me smile, even when I felt like death at the bottom of a whiskey barrel. I assessed the room, realizing I was on Bailey's couch in her living room. The sun was peeking through the windows and a check of my watch told me I still had plenty of time before I needed to be at the station.

I threw back the blankets that were pulled up to my chin and spotted the pills and water waiting for me. Something about the sweet gesture made me pause. Then I gulped them down, hoping to squash the pounding in my head before I had to have an uncomfortable conversation with Bailey.

I stared down at my lap, covered only by boxers, and tried to piece together what happened last night. I remembered trying to drink away my day at work, needing human noise around me, rather than the oppressive silence of my house. Then Bailey was flirting with some guy right in front of me.

I remembered spilling my guts to her, telling her how much I wanted her. I closed my eyes and raked my hands through my hair. Shit. I remembered nothing after that.

I was thirty-two fucking years old, and I got so trashed last night I couldn't remember if I finally slept with the girl I was dangerously close to falling in love with or if I'd pushed her away like I should have done months ago. Either outcome was equally unpleasant.

"Hey, you're up."

My head shot up, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. She was leaning against the doorway with a spatula in her hand, flour on her face, and a smile that could light up even the darkest of hearts.

"Morning." My voice came out rough, strangled by sheepishness over my actions the night before and a sudden desire to see this woman every morning for the rest of my life. Preferably without the hangover.

She spun around and hurried back into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Come on in here and get some of my special Bailey-cakes."

I looked around for my jeans, unwilling to stand up until I'd covered myself and the rising evidence that I found her sexy as sin. Unlike her usual put-together self, she'd had on a pair of sweats that said Pink across the butt and a loose sweatshirt that looked like it had been washed and worn within an inch of its life. The funny thing is, I'd never seen her look more beautiful.

"Hurry up! They're gonna be cold if you don't get a move on, Detective."

I found my jeans on the armchair and slid them on, followed by my shoes that were neatly placed by the chair. Clearly, she'd taken care of me last night when I was incapacitated.

I made my way into the kitchen, squinting at the harsh light. Served me right though for being an idiot last night. I needed to thank her, needed to apologize for anything I said and did last night.

"Bailey--"

"Oh, now it's Bailey, huh? I kinda liked Bae." She handed me a plate stacked with pancakes and flashed a saucy wink.

I wasn't the blushing type, but I swear it got a thousand degrees hotter in that kitchen all of a sudden. I'd been calling her 'Bae' in my head for months now...since it was her name shortened, but also what people called their 'baby' for short. Seemed apropos in my head, never imagining I'd actually call her that out loud.

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked up at her through my lashes. "Yeah, about that..."

"Oh, for God's sake, have a seat and eat! You got drunk, you said some things. It's over. We all do that on occasion, I don't hold it against you." She looked exasperated with me, not over my drunken behavior last night, but my timidness this morning.

I plopped myself down in a chair and picked up my fork. "All I want to say is thank you." Her head whipped up, mid-bite. "Thank you for getting me home and taking such good care of me. That was thoughtful."

I dug into my pancakes, content that I'd thanked her and we'd cleared the air. Now I could examine why her thoughtfulness struck such a chord with me and what that meant going forward. It was like I'd seen another side to her that I didn't know existed. I wanted a woman who would take care of me and brighten my day. She'd done both those things, and we weren't dating. Hell, we didn't even like each other most days. Could I have been wrong about her?

Damn, plus these pancakes were fucking amazing. I glanced up to comment on her cooking and realized she'd stopped eating, just picking at her pancake.

“Something wrong?”

She smiled, overly cheerful, saying "Nothing."

Now I'm no expert, but when a woman says nothing's wrong, you damn well know something is most definitely wrong.