Page 28 of Lost and Found

“I don’t know.”

“Mexican or Italian, Bailey? Decide before I turn around and throw Erick out of this shopping center.”

“I’d kill for a chimichanga right now.”

He squeezed her hand and almost laughed, then realized he needed to release her hand. As much as he didn’t want to, he didn’t need to make things weird. He let go, and they crossed the parking lot. She stayed close. Erick had scared her, and Wes hated him even more for that.

Her arm brushed his. The hair on his forearm stood up. Electricity skipped down his spine. What he wouldn’t do to grab hold of Bailey again. Instead, he scowled into the bright sky and focused on the stupid weather. It was hot for early June. Not many clouds. Maybe it’d rain next week. Maybe he needed to get a fuckin’ grip.

Wes glanced over and saw that Bailey had mostly masked her expression, but not enough. He could still sense her tension. “Does Erick usually show up to yell at you?”

“It happens surprisingly more often than you’d think. He’s the worst brother-in-law ever.”

“Why are you still in contact with the Cosgroves if you dislike them?” He held the door open. “I think they all suck, but I’m biased. You don’t seem to get along with them, but you’re not tied to them, so what gives?”

“It’s…complicated.”

The hostess sat them in a corner booth. Wes eased into the booth for a better view of the restaurant. “Explain complicated.”

She buried her face in the menu. “My relationship with Angus and Kimbra is separate from Erick. They’re like…I don’t know, Cosgrove machines. Their name, their company, their family legacy is incredibly important to them. I think they’d sacrifice each other if it further protected their little empire.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. But you’re not part of it.”

“It’s complicated,” she repeated, puffing out her cheeks. “And as for Erick? I want nothing to do with him, but he’s like the younger brother I can’t get away from.”

He reached for her menu and lowered it so that she couldn’t hide her face. “If he speaks to you like that, then you never need to see him again.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Uncomplicate it, Bailey. No one talks to you like that again. Do you read me, sweetness?”

Bailey tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m getting the chimichanga. What about you?”

Wes watched her eye the drink menu, certain she had no intention of ordering a Modelo or margarita. He’d push more on Erick later. “Steak fajitas,” he decided.

“They’re pretty good here.”

She didn’t set the menu down until the waitress took their order, leaving them with a basket of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa. Bailey broke a chip in half, dunked it in the salsa, and sandwiched the other half on top, then popped it into her mouth. “Why don’t you believe in fairy tales?”

“For one,” he said, “they’re make-believe.”

“The way you said that last night, it was like you don’t believe in the very fiber that strings those stories together.”

“Magic wands, pumpkin carriages, mermaids, singing lobsters, and talking birds. I don’t believe in any of that and would bet that you don’t either.”

“Jeez, Wes, who hurt you?”

She had no idea. “I’ve seen enough ugly in the world to make anyone believe pixies can make it better.”

“You know I don’t mean magic.” She made another salsa-chip sandwich. “Don’t you believe that conflicts can be triumphed over? That’s the magic of a fairy tale. The pumpkin carriages and the singing birds—”

“Singing lobsters and talking birds.”

She smiled. “That’s entertainment. The story is a transformation to a happily ever after.”

“Maybe not everyone gets a happily ever after. Have you thought about that?”

“No.” Her smile turned defiant. “Because I’m the poster child for not getting a happily ever after, and I refuse to accept that.”