Chapter Thirteen

Ken paid for two loaves of bread and a half-dozen sticky buns in the small Poulsbo bakery before she waded through the crowd and emerged onto the sunlit street. She stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the bright light after standing in line inside for over ten minutes, and then she walked away from the main street and toward the alley where she had left Bailey with her car.

As promised, she had removed the white convertible top for the drive home. They had decided to stop at the bakery—although both had proclaimed to be too full to ever eat again after Vonda’s lunch—and Ken had been about to put the top up again while they were away from the car. Bailey had seemed happy to stay with it as guard, and Ken had left her parked in a quiet alley, away from the busy streets and looking tempting, with her head tilted back to catch the sun and her auburn hair draped over the back of the red leather seat.

Ken felt an unaccustomed lightness. Once the stress of talking about the annex had been removed, both she and Bailey had been able to relax. Ken had enjoyed talking about her hobby with two other accomplished cooks, and she had discovered that she liked Joe as a person when she wasn’t worried about him as her boss. The food had been amazing, and Vonda’s eagle had even made a brief appearance when he flew by them with majestic, shallow wingbeats before disappearing into the woods behind the house.

Ken climbed a steep hill leading away from Poulsbo’s waterfront. Best of all, she and Bailey had been able to be around each other for a short time without the design plans for the new clinic hanging over them. Bailey didn’t have to fight for her privacy, and Ken didn’t have to fight to keep her job. A brief truce, but a welcome one. Bailey was technically a client and, Ken reminded herself, not her type, but she was intriguing company nonetheless. Smart and fascinating, she was quick to notice details and pull them together into jokes or astute observations. She’d never be boring.

Ken turned into the alley and came to an abrupt halt. Bailey was out of the car, frowning as she talked to a tall blond guy. Did everyone in this town look like a Nordic demigod? Ken shifted her bakery bag into her left hand. Her legs felt as if they’d turned to steel, with no ability to bend or move, but she forced them to propel her forward out of sheer will. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her eyes scanned the area for a weapon. She didn’t see anything useful, but she couldn’t stop moving. She had to get to Bailey.

As if hearing her name in Ken’s thoughts, Bailey turned toward her and her face brightened into an easy smile. She didn’t appear to be scared or in danger, but Ken wasn’t taking any chances. She’d beat the guy to death with sticky buns if she had to—anything to protect Bailey.

“She’s the owner, so she’d be able to answer you,” Bailey said to the Thor lookalike. “Hey, Ken, he was asking about your car, but aside from knowing it’s a Corvette, I couldn’t answer any…are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ken said, feeling her tension ease slightly once she was able to position herself between Bailey and the stranger.

“Hi, I’m Todd,” the kid said with an easy smile. He reached out his hand and Ken shook it, keeping her stance low so he couldn’t pull her off balance.

“I’m Ken,” she answered, her own voice sounding far away because of the rushing sound in her ears.

“Your car’s a beauty. What’ve you got in her?” Todd was wearing an open denim jacket and he held the bottom edges against his body as he leaned over to check out the dashboard.

Ken exhaled a little more easily. A car guy. She did the same thing out of habit whenever she was near someone else’s vehicle, keeping any loose clothing from touching the car and possibly damaging a paint job. “A three twenty-seven with a six-pack,” she said. She reached behind him to pop the hood, still keeping herself between Bailey and any possible threat.

“Nice,” he said, drawing out the word for several beats. “What’s that give you, three hundred ponies?”

“Very good,” Ken said. “You know your engines.”

“My dad has a fifty-eight, but he kept it stock with the original two eighty-three. If I could afford one, I’d modify it like you did.”

Bailey stood back and listened to the two speak in what might as well have been a foreign language for all she understood of it. Ken was saying something about Rochester carbs, but Bailey didn’t think she meant pasta. She was mostly relieved to see Ken’s expression losing some of its vigilante edge. Ken had approached them with a lethal look in her eyes, probably thinking Todd was going to touch her car, but he seemed respectful of it and Ken was looking more at ease.

Once they had finished their tour of the car’s engine, Ken waited until Bailey was in the car before she climbed in and started the engine.

“Nice!” Todd said again, giving Ken a thumbs-up sign before he walked away from them. Ken drove slowly in the opposite direction, occasionally checking her rearview mirror until they were out of the alley.

“He seemed like a good kid,” Bailey said as Ken accelerated onto the highway. “This car must attract plenty of attention wherever you go.”

“Yeah,” Ken said. “I kept it in a garage when I lived in Seattle. Didn’t need to drive it much.”

Bailey still didn’t recognize Ken’s voice. She spoke as if her teeth were clenched so tightly she had a hard time opening her mouth. Bailey had wanted to touch Ken since they had stopped holding hands on the way to Poulsbo, but she hadn’t been able to come up with a reason. Reasons be damned now. Ken looked like she needed touch, and that was all Bailey needed to know. She twisted in her seat and rubbed her thumb along Ken’s tense jawline.

“He didn’t touch your car, even when you weren’t there. I wouldn’t have let him.”

“What?” Ken turned her head to stare incredulously at Bailey before she looked back at the road. “That’s not what…I didn’t care about that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Ken veered sharply off the highway and onto one of the small residential roads intersecting it. She pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. Bailey was away from danger, for the moment. The adrenaline dump hit Ken hard, and she felt as if she had no choice but to lean over and kiss Bailey. To make sure she was alive and safe. Ken twisted her fingers in Bailey’s thick hair, keeping the pressure from her lips steady until she felt Bailey’s surprised response ease. The gentle touch of Bailey’s tongue against her mouth changed the kiss from one of desperation and reassurance to something softer and even more frightening.

Even as Ken opened her mouth and welcomed the rough feel of Bailey’s tongue, her mind still reeled from the brush with danger. Bailey was okay…this time. But she was too quick to trust, too naïve to understand how dangerous life was. Todd had seemed like a nice guy who was interested in cars, but the next person to come along might not be so friendly. And Ken might not be there to protect her.

Ken reached under Bailey’s shirt and pressed her palm against Bailey’s chest. Yes, she felt Bailey’s nipple stiffen under her touch, and yes, she wanted her mouth and teeth on it, but mainly she needed the comfort of a strong heartbeat in her hand. She pulled away from Bailey’s lips and trailed kisses along those exposed tan lines on Bailey’s neck and arms.

Ken had been able to protect Bailey twice today. Once when Vonda was taking control of her annex, and again when she had been alone with Todd. Neither had been a true test of Ken’s ability to rescue her. The change of subject with Vonda was only a stopgap—Ken didn’t have any real design ideas to back up her nonsense words. And Todd had been a nice kid looking at a car, not a real threat. Bailey’s skin felt fragile, precious under Ken’s mouth. She didn’t trust that she’d be able to protect Bailey when it counted.

Bailey felt Ken pull away before her lips had lost contact with skin. She was prepared for the feeling of loss when Ken sat up in her seat and looked at Bailey with the closed expression she had come to recognize. She wasn’t sure what had brought on Ken’s surge of passion, but she recognized when it was over.

“I’m sorry.” Ken reached over and grasped Bailey’s hand for a moment, giving her a squeeze before letting go.

“Heatstroke?” Bailey asked with a forced smile. “Drunk on juniper berries?”

“Maybe both,” Ken said with a smile that looked as unnatural as Bailey’s felt. “You’re beautiful, Bailey, and I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. But I shouldn’t have…we work together…”

“You’ll still work with me?” Bailey asked. “We can still hike to the meadow?”

“You still want me to go with you?” Ken stared at her with something Bailey recognized as a deep weariness.

“Of course,” she said. She had expected Ken to leave her eventually, once the osprey was healed and the annex designed. A kiss along the way had been a pleasant bonus. “We don’t need to cancel plans just because of a small…lapse in judgment.”

“Then we’ll go hiking,” Ken said. Her face relaxed into an easier smile. “For the birds.”

“For the birds,” Bailey repeated.