Page 50 of A Sinful Trap

And the quiet. Cam’s entourage-slash-menagerie was gone, and so was Cyndy. Unless they’d all joined Grandpa Will in his soon-to-be-infamous attic caper.

Did Kaya know Dani had brought her grandfather over to talk to ghosts? Probably not. She was no dummy, and Kaya would not approve.

Bailey slipped off her heels, mentally rolled up her sleeves and started up the stairs to the second floor of the inn. The smell of pine and sawdust hit her nose first, followed by more of that sage Will must be burning. What was he thinking, lighting fires around ancient, flammable things? And old Mr. Olyphant. She was so going to get sued.

No. Cam is.

That didn’t make her feel any better.

She walked down the hall, studying the new ladder. It was foldable, sturdy and lovely all the way around. Alwin was a miracle worker to get it installed this quickly, and so was Ava for thinking of him. It should have occurred to Bailey, but she hadn’t been herself lately. Not since she’d met Cameron Locke.

It was like holding sunlight. Everything about her was bright and beautiful and warm. She was so soft, and when her scent washed over him, he wanted to forget all his responsibilities and take her to bed for a week. Or stay right where he was and hold her as long as she’d let him. He needed to kiss her. When was the last time he’d been this desperate for an innocent taste? Was it the first time he’d seen Davide? He felt twinge of guilt that the impulse was that strong. Stronger. Who was this woman who’d dropped into his arms? Why did he want to keep her? Why did she feel like home?

“Stop it,” Bailey snarled softly at the vision, clinging to the ladder with both hands for support. “I don’t want to know this.”

She needed it to stop before she collapsed in a worthless heap on the floor. They’d gotten their point across. They were attracted to her, even believed they liked her. But they would still leave. “So get out of my head.”

There had to be a way for her to control this. Maybe a memory of her own to ground her. Something painful that was the complete opposite of the tender thoughts and endearing emotions she was getting from both men.

She took a deep breath and scratched at an old wound in her mind. She knew the one. The memory she always avoided, but never forgot.

A teenager standing in a dying garden in front of a dark trailer. She was hungry, needed new shoes and the electricity had been turned off, but it was the first time she’d cried in the months since her mother left.

She’d been so stupid, believing that if she neglected the flowers, her mother would somehow know. That she’d have to come back and take care of them, because she loved them. But they’d withered and died. Like she would, if she stayed where she was, expecting something to change instead of making a plan to take care of herself.

She should have known better. Selfish people never thought about what happened to the things they left behind.

It wasn’t pleasant, but it was effective. She could almost feel the link dim. It wasn’t gone completely—she could still sense it—but it was turned all the way down. Had she done that, or was it them? She supposed it didn’t matter. The intensity had receded enough that she felt more like herself again. She would be able to deal with whatever came next. One problem at a time. One step at a time.

She started the climb, making her way into the now-populated attic. Her fear of heights was thankfully gone for the moment. Maybe it knew she had more pressing things to deal with right now.

“Third time’s the charm,” she muttered to herself, ready for anything.

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