Almost a Family (10 page)

"The resemblance is amazing!" Rita cried, pulling a flustered Chad into a bear hug. "Would you look at this, Jerry?" she asked her husband. "Jean Ann, this is exactly what your uncle Bailey looked like when he was a boy—so handsome!"

Still recovering from her own exuberant airport greeting from her former sister-in-law, Virginia watched the exchange, envious of Rita's easy way with children. It was early afternoon, and Rita insisted they all caravan back to Shenoway and stay for dinner. Virginia's parents begged off and, after promising Chad a camping trip in the near future, left for home. Detective Lance also took his leave after Virginia and Bailey both gave him a grateful handshake.

They left the terminal, dodged yet more reporters, and finally made it to Virginia's car. To her chagrin and relief, Bailey had asked to ride with them since Rita had given him a ride to the airport. She wasn't eager to spend more time with him, but she wasn't ready to be alone with Chad either.

Before they could put on their seat belts, Chad said, "Is this your car?"

Virginia laughed at his wide-eyed expression. "Sure is."

"You
must
be rich."

Bailey turned around. "What do you know about cars?"

Chad lifted his shoulders in what was fast becoming his signature gesture. "Lots. I put models together—I hope none of them get broken on the way here."

"I like cars too," Bailey confided. "I'll show you my collection when we get to the farm."

"You have a model collection?" Chad asked.

Bailey smiled. "Not models—the real things."

"Wow!"

A finger of apprehension nudged Virginia. How financially reliable could Bailey be if he was still investing in jalopies? Just one more reason why, when push came to shove, she could count only on herself. She knew Bailey would never intentionally neglect his son financially, but he was the kind of man who didn't see the use of planning ahead. She grimaced. Which was just as well, since he couldn't seem to stick with long-term commitments.

About a thirty-minute drive from the airport, Shenoway had once been a remote location. But no more, Virginia quickly discovered. The area had changed so much, Bailey had to give her directions to the house in which she'd once lived. Subdivisions had popped up everywhere, along with strip malls, schools, and manicured parks.

But soon the development gave way to familiar surroundings, sending her pulse jumping. She pulled onto the gravel driveway and began the steep ascent to the house at the top of the hill, now hidden by the growth of surrounding trees. At the top, the land leveled to a spacious plateau of nearly fifty lush acres. She frowned when she saw rooftops in the distance—Shenoway lots Bailey and Rita had sold. "How many acres do you have now?" she asked.

"About thirty-five," Bailey told her, his voice shaded with regret. "We used the money to build a new barn and re-fence the base acreage. We had some great offers, but we refused to sell to developers. The three families who bought from us purchased five-acre plots to build large homes. And we kept an acre between each plot to guarantee a developer couldn't gobble them up."

Chad jumped out of the car to explore before it came to a complete stop.

She laughed, and Bailey grinned. Then an awkward silence followed, during which Virginia realized it was the first time they'd been alone since the previous night.

She put the car in park and switched off the ignition.

"Look, Ginny," Bailey began, "about last night—"

"No need to apologize," she interrupted, keeping her voice light and carefree. She even managed to laugh. "I've forgotten it already."

He scowled. "I wasn't going to apologize, and I haven't forgotten it."

The low rumble of his voice sent a thrill along Virginia's spine, unraveling threads of desire.
The person least interested controls the situation.
Self-preservation kicked in. "It was no big deal, Bailey, you're making too much of a harmless kiss. Let's just get past it."

"A harmless kiss?" he repeated. "Is that all it was to you?" He exhaled in exasperation, then clasped her hand. "Look at me, Ginny, and tell me last night meant nothing to you."

Tell him, her heart pleaded. Tell him he's the only man you've ever loved.

Go ahead, her head teased. Trade a few months of pleasure for another decade of pain when he tires of you, except now with Chad, you'll have to see him every week and keep the wound fresh.

She pulled her hand from his, looked deep into his cobalt-blue eyes, and said in her calmest voice, "Last night meant nothing to me, Bailey."

Hurt narrowed his eyes, but she didn't flinch. His ego was a little bruised, that was all. He obviously wasn't used to his sexual advances being rejected.

Bailey expelled a long, noisy breath. "Rita says I'm pretty dense sometimes, that I have to be hit over the head with the truth." He laughed harshly. "I guess she's right." The smile he offered her seemed resigned. "So... where do we go from here?"

"Nowhere," she replied casually, her heart splintering. "We'll need to keep up appearances for Chad's sake, but that shouldn't be too difficult."

He worked his mouth, pursing his lips. "Appearances... you mean
pretend
to like each other?"

"Not pretend—I'd like to think we can be friends."

He turned in his seat to look out the window, across the farm, in the direction of their meadow. Her nerve endings tingled, her muscles tensed for his response. She drew a deep breath for strength—she wasn't sure how much more resistance she had in her.

Finally he turned back to her and gave her a watery smile, then surprised her by extending his hand. "Friends it is," he said softly.

Virginia stared at his broad, tanned fingers, trying to push aside the memories of the fire his hands had unleashed the previous night. She slipped her hand inside his and squeezed slightly in a firm handshake.
Bravo, Virginia.

"Hey, you two!" Rita's voice startled her. She jerked around to see the petite brunette shaking her finger at them through the car window. "Aren't you coming in? You can hold hands out here!"

A flush burned Virginia's cheeks as she withdrew her hand from Bailey's clasp. He said nothing as they climbed out of the car, but a frown creased his dark brow.

Chad came running up with his sandy-haired cousin at his heels, his face consumed with a grin. "Jean Ann says there are fifteen cows and four horses!"

Bailey's expression lifted instantly. "Do you ride?"

Chad's face fell. "No."

"Well, I guess we'll have to fix that, won't we?"

Virginia couldn't help smiling when her son's face lit up.

"Can you teach me?" he asked Bailey.

Bailey pulled at his chin. "I could, but Ginny used to be the real horseman in the family." Her expression must have mirrored Chad's one of surprise, because he added, " 'Fess up, Ginny, you ran our little stable single-handedly."

"But I haven't ridden in years."

Chad frowned. "I want
you
to show me, Bailey," he said earnestly, "not some
girl."

Virginia bit her lip, telling herself she was going to have to stop letting these two men hurt her.

"Son," Bailey said, "I learned some of life's best lessons from this girl right here. You could do worse."

"Where's your car collection?" Chad asked, obviously clever enough to know when to change the subject.

"Go ask your aunt Rita for the key to the barn, and I'll catch up with you."

Chad ran off at top speed. She watched him bound across the yard, then up the porch steps, worry rooted deep in her heart.

He reached out, then stopped before touching her arm, plowing his hand through his hair instead. "He's pushing your buttons, Ginny, that's all. He's a scared, confused kid and he's taking it out on you—don't let him. After our conversation today"—he paused, making it clear he wasn't satisfied with the outcome—"it looks like I won't be with you all the time, so you have to stand up for yourself."

Frustration and anger bubbled inside her. They'd been parents for less than a day and it seemed to be coming naturally to Bailey—why was she grappling with it? She was the one who had her life together, who was he to give her advice? She lifted her chin with false bravado. "Thanks for the pointer, Bailey, but I figure if I can handle you, I can handle my son."

His nostrils flared slightly, then he inclined his head. "Touché."

"Bailey!" Chad yelled from the front of the house, holding high a ring of keys.

"I'll be right there, buddy." When he looked back to Virginia, his face was still anger-flushed. "Want to come?" He held up a hand in mock defense. "Just for appearance's sake, of course."

She didn't acknowledge his sarcasm. "I think I'll visit with Rita."

* * *

Bailey strode across the driveway, gravel crunching beneath his boots. As he neared Chad, he tried to force the angry thoughts from his mind. Virginia Catron was without a doubt the most infuriating woman, he'd ever known. Now that he had her back in his life, how was he supposed to adjust to being mere friends? His desire and love for her had lain dormant for years. How could he now look at her week in and week out and not reveal them?

"Where's the barn?" Chad asked eagerly.

At the expression on his son's face, the corners of Bailey's mouth lifted automatically. He pointed west. "Through that grove of trees. See the tin roof?"

Chad was gone before he finished the sentence. Bailey laughed to himself and walked quickly to catch up with his energetic son. A few minutes later he was unlocking a series of padlocks on a black wooden door that spanned sixteen feet. When he swung out the heavy door, he stepped aside to let Chad enter first, then felt along the wall for the light switches.

"Wow!" Chad exclaimed as light flooded the mini showroom. "Look at all the cars! Are all these yours?"

"Yep."

"How many?"

"Twelve."

"This is so cool! Is that a Corvette?"

"Nineteen fifty-four. Needs a lot of work."

"There's a Skyliner!"

"Nineteen fifty-seven. Original retractable hardtop. Mint condition."

"Man, oh, man—there's a Cadillac!"

"Nineteen fifty-nine, Series 62 convertible. Everything's original but the windshield, the tires, and the paint job."

Chad's mouth hung open in awe. "Which one's your favorite?"

Bailey wound his way through the maze of classics to stop beside one fully-covered vehicle in the far corner. He pulled back the canvas, and Chad's eyes bugged.

Patting the immaculate baby-blue paint job with a loving hand, Bailey said, "Nineteen fifty-three—"

"Packard Caribbean convertible," Chad finished. "I have a model just like it—same color and everything! This is awesome! Did you do all the work yourself?"

"Most of it. See all my tools in the back? Rita's husband, Jerry, helps me some—"

"I can help!"

Bailey's chest expanded. How fortunate that his son also shared a love of cars. "Great, I could use a helper. I was going to work on the 'Vette next. A mechanic friend of mine trades me use of his repair bay for free trees."

His son frowned. "Free trees?"

"I'm a landscaper for big office buildings and stuff. You know, bushes, trees—"

"Flowers?" Chad made a face.

Bailey laughed. "Yeah, even flowers."

Chad jerked his thumb toward the cars. "Can I lift some of the other tarps?"

"Sure, I'll help."

As he pulled back the heavy canvasses, Bailey suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Ginny. Chad was ignoring her, and all the reprimanding in the world from him wasn't going to make things better. In fact, it would probably make things worse. Ginny had no experience to draw from when relating to Chad. She'd been an only child, a goody-two-shoes kid raised in a loving family. Dysfunctional was largely a TV term to her. And while he didn't consider himself an expert on parenting difficult kids, he did have a qualifying background.

When he was growing up at Shenoway, his parents were married, but had never really gotten along. He and Rita had grown used to them fighting at all hours of the day. Occasionally, his mother would kiss or hug her two kids, but not often, and he couldn't remember his dad ever touching them, except on the backside. So not only did he know what it was like to be an eight-year-old boy, but he knew what it was like to be an eight-year-old boy who'd largely relied on his wits to get by.

As he watched his son touch and study details of the old cars in various stages of restoration, an idea began to germinate. Ginny had made it painfully clear there was no future for them, so he needed to make provisions to be able to see Chad as much as possible. And he couldn't do it living in a one-bedroom apartment above a saloon. He knew Rita wouldn't mind him bringing the boy to her house when he had visitation, but she had her own family, and it wasn't fair to impose. He needed a home of his own.

The meadow was the only location he'd consider, but he felt a twinge of sadness. He'd hoped he and Ginny would have a home there someday, but it wasn't to be—he'd clinched that decision long ago when he'd let their marriage sour. So a home for him and his son would be the next best thing.

Except he needed money to start building. He could talk to his boss tomorrow about his salary. And the only savings he had was sitting there under protective canvas covers. One dealer had been pestering him for years about a couple of the cars. He'd call the man, then try to find the original house plans.

He watched as his son's dark head disappeared inside a battered 1954 Hornet. "Double wow!" came the muffled appraisal.

Gratitude filled his heart, but then he thought of Ginny, and a tiny selfish part of him cried out for more.

* * *

"It's so great to see you, Ginny," Rita said, elbow deep in flour.

Virginia sat at the kitchen table slicing tart green Shenoway apples for the pie Rita was making. "You too—you haven't aged a day."

Rita laughed. "Not true, but nice to hear. You haven't fared badly yourself. And Bailey tells me you're a successful executive—computers, isn't it?"