Beneath the Stetson(40)
Her cheeks were hot enough to fry an egg. She wasn’t accustomed to talking about sex so matter-of-factly. She had been raised by a father who never did a thing to acknowledge that his daughter might need some education about her body and other personal matters. Nor did he offer her books or anything else to guide her in the murky waters of boy-girl relationships.
She’d been forced to stumble along on her own.
But she had managed. Refusing to let Gil know she was feeling off-balance, she managed a genuine smile. “You promised me a picnic. Food first. Flirting later.”
“You’ve got your priorities muddled,” he grumbled. But he grinned as he unloaded their supplies.
Bailey hopped down from the truck and helped spread the quilt. Gil’s housekeeper had managed to put together a mouthwatering array of food, especially given the short notice. Chicken salad, fruit salad, homemade bread and oatmeal raisin cookies made Bailey’s mouth water.
She was astonished to see Gil unpack a padded container that held china plates, crystal flutes and real silverware. “Wow. I was expecting paper and plastic.”
He poured her a glass of champagne. “I may be a little rusty when it comes to dating, but I think I remember a few of the finer points when trying to impress a woman.”
She sipped the champagne, recognizing that the taste alone declared it to be ridiculously expensive. “We’re not dating, Gil.” She had information he wasn’t going to like to hear. So there was no reason to play games. “But I appreciate the effort.”
He ignored her insistence on clinging to reality, choosing instead to serve a plate and hand it to her. “Dig in. I don’t want you passing out from hunger on my watch.”
They ate in silence for several minutes. A comfortable silence that acknowledged the beauty of the day and their unspoken contentment in sharing a stolen moment in time. Bailey sat cross-legged, her plate in her lap, while Gil sprawled on his side, his big body ranged comfortably as he propped himself on an elbow and ate one-handed.
The food was good. But after a while, it sat like a stone in her stomach. She believed in the concept of carpe diem, she really did. But she was also a realist. For every wonderful minute she spent with Gil, there would be a corresponding experience of pain when this whatever-it-was came to an abrupt end.
It was foolish and self-destructive to ruin a lovely interlude with such maudlin thoughts. Life didn’t have to be perfect to be enjoyable. Happiness came in snatches, sometimes almost unnoticed. She wouldn’t ask of Gil more than he was able to give.
When they were done eating, she helped him pack everything back in its spot. They had barely spoken a dozen words during the meal. Gil stood and carried the hamper and the dish tote back to the truck. Bailey pulled her knees to her chest and encircled them with her arms. For one brief moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like if Gil were hers. Permanently.
She already knew he was an incredible father and an intuitive lover. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine him as a loving husband, as well. He had softened toward her, given more of himself than she had expected. Closing her eyes, she entertained the fantasy of a rosy future.
Gil sat down beside her, his hip inches from hers. “Whatever you’re thinking about must not be too pleasant. You have a tiny frown between your eyebrows.” He rubbed the spot with a fingertip. “This picnic was supposed to be fun.”
Shaking off her weird mood, she laid her head on his shoulder. “It is fun,” she said honestly. “I get so wrapped up in my work, I sometimes forget how nice it is to do nothing at all.”
“You’ve given a lot of yourself to your career.”
Was there a veiled criticism in those words, or was she being overly sensitive? “I suppose I’ve let my job act as a substitute for family. I do have many good friends, but we all work together, so that has a downside. I’m rarely able to leave my cases when I go home at the end of the day. Not like someone who works in a factory or a department store. I’m always thinking about the next step.”
“You care deeply about things, Bailey. I like that about you.”
She linked her fingers with his, resting their hands on his thigh. Today he wore dark dress pants with a lightweight cotton pullover sweater in a shade of blue that echoed the hue of the sky.
His words of praise made her uncomfortable. Perhaps because she had grown up without that kind of verbal support. But also because she was hiding something from Gil. News she had received only today.
“Did you bring me out here so we could have sex?” she asked, the words far more calm that the riotous emotions pinballing inside her.