Page 32 of Lost and Found

Bailey closed half the distance between her front door and his truck. “What do you want?”

Wes rolled down the passenger window. “Is that you inviting me in, sweetness?”

This time, the officer groaned. “Good God, man. You don’t have a way with women, do you?”

“Never had a problem until with Bailey Cosgrove.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll leave if she tells me to go.” But she had better not.

She ambled to the truck, displeasure clear as the cloudless blue summer sky. Bailey rested her folded forearms on the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprising you.”

She grinned but quickly rolled her lips together. “Seems like I just heard you say that the other day. Do I seem like the type of person who likes surprises?”

“Maybe you need to live a little.”

She rolled her eyes and backed away from his truck. “Pull up and park behind my Jeep. That way you’re only bugging me and not Officer Dougherty.”

Wes saluted Officer Dougherty and followed her directions. He jumped out of his truck, tossed the keys in the air, and caught them as he followed Bailey toward the house. The summer yellow dress twirled around her legs. The thin straps and the way the dress dipped low on her back momentarily short-circuited his brain.

She paused on the cusp of the front door. “You never said why you were here.”

“I’m bored, and you’re the reason I’m in Fairfax County, so…” He gestured vaguely, still distracted by how her goddess dress clung to her curves yet flowed around her legs. “Here I am.”

Bailey opened the door, shaking her head as if he had no clue he’d made a misstep. Wes wasn’t an idiot. Of course he knew that and fully expected her to chew his ass out. Sparring with her was part of the allure of this impromptu visit.

He crossed the threshold—the house didn’t sound right, as if they weren’t alone, but he heard no voices. Wes walked farther in. The air smelled sweet. Like sugar and vanilla.

“Take your shoes off.” She gestured to the line of shoes. The sandals she wore earlier lay next to a small pair of kids’ shoes and a basket of sidewalk chalk.

The bubbling anticipation of walking into her house turned into the strange feeling of being completely unprepared and unaware. “Do you have company?”

Bailey waited for him to shuck off his shoes. He complied. She still didn’t answer and pivoted down the hall, her long skirt flowing behind her. The living room opened to his left. A Pixar movie was paused on the screen, and an abandoned coloring book lay across the coffee table. A sprawling Lego world had taken over a corner, and balled-up socks lay on the carpet.

“Uh, Bailey?” He chased after her. “Do you have a kid?”

She kept ignoring him, or maybe he hadn’t spoken loud enough for her to hear. Vivian would have mentioned it if she had a kid. His footsteps sounded out of place. He caught up with Bailey just inside the kitchen. A little blond-haired boy with red-framed glasses sat at the kitchen table. He kicked his legs, watching Wes warily.

Everything in his brain stopped clamoring for attention. Everything just stopped. His thoughts. His pulse. His understanding. Wes couldn’t think, so he shoved his hands into his pockets. He stayed put and lifted his chin, clueless what to say to a child. “Hey, buddy.”

“Matt.” Bailey tousled the kid’s hair. “This is Mr. Wilder.”

The red glasses had a red strap that wrapped around the back of his head. His big eyes didn’t seem reassured by the introduction.

“You can call me Wes,” he offered awkwardly, then second-guessed saying that. “If it’s good with your mom.” He shrugged in a semi-apology to Bailey, realizing he shouldn’t contradict her. She was mom, right? Maybe an aunt? A babysitter? That didn’t matter, and he cleared his throat. “Mr. Wilder’s my dad.” And his dad was a piece of shit, so that wouldn’t fly unless Bailey made Wes do it.

“Sure. That’s fine. You can call him Wes.”

With that resolved, Wes still had a bigger issue: a spooked kid. Bailey’s kid? He glanced at the cookies cooling on a baking sheet. “You were making cookies…with your mom?”

Matt nodded.

Why hadn’t Bailey said she had a kid? Wes wouldn’t have shown up without her permission. Why hadn’t Vivian warned him? Why didn’t he know Matt existed? Wes had too many questions.

Matt didn’t say a word. Mistrust guarded his assessing expression. He didn’t trust Wes, though that was probably for the best. No one wanted their kid to be warm and fuzzy with strangers. Wes took a slow, deep breath and ignored how the kitchen walls seemed to shrink around him.

Bailey crouched in front of Matt. “Wes is...” She tilted her head, as if silently sifting through their past for an explanation that fit their complicated history. “Someone I used to know.”

“A friend?” Matt asked.