Page 55 of Legends: Easton
Bailee crossed her arms over her chest. “Anyone ever tell you that you would make a good detective?”
Reagan shrugged. “I write murder mysteries for a living. It’s practically the same thing.”
Bailee laughed. “Riiiighhht.”
Jax and Roxy came running up to them, dirt and debris tangled in their hair. They were breathing hard but grinning from ear to ear. Bailee never knew a dog could grin until she saw Roxy’s unmistakable smile herself.
“Mom, we’re fursty and hungry. Can we have a snack?”
“So Roxy told you she’s thirsty and hungry?”
Jax rolled his eyes, and Bailee did her best to hide her amusement.
“Mooommm, Roxy can’t talk. Sometimes you just know. Can we?”
Reagan shared an amused glance with Bailee. “Yes. Go inside and make sure Roxy has water and kibble in her bowls. Then ask your dad for some lemonade and a snack.”
“Thanks, Mom. Come on, Rox.”
The two went running toward the house while the women smiled after them.
“He likes calling her Rox because he says it rhymes with Jax,” Reagan explained. “We’re going to have to get him his own dogwhen you two leave. As much as I hate to admit it, a boy needs his own dog. It’s a rite of passage.”
“I could always leave Roxy here,” Bailee said. “Being a detective doesn’t exactly give me a lot of free time to take care of a dog like Roxy.”
Reagan shook her head. “No, you and Roxy found each other for a reason. You need her as much as she needs you. But if you ever need anyone to take care of her, you know who to call.”
They started walking toward the house, but before they stepped inside, Bailee caught Reagan’s arm.
“Your idea is a good one. I’ll do it, but know you and Melody or any of the boys don’t have to. I’ve been taking care of myself for a while. I can keep doing it.”
Reagan grinned. “I’m glad you’re on board, but if you think for one minute we’re sitting this out, you are sorely mistaken. Come on. I need to make sure my son has what he needs, then I need to decide what to wear tonight.”
“Good thing I travel light. Makes the decision of what to wear easy,” Bailee joked.
“Choosing the right clothes is never easy,” Reagan drawled as she stepped inside.
Bailee laughed. She had a feeling the rest of the day was going to be pretty interesting.
Chapter Twenty-One
Easton slid the Scotch tumbler across the bar toward his customer before swinging his gaze around to where Bailee sat with his family. He’d been watching her all evening when he wasn’t dealing with waitresses or customers.
At first, he tried not to be obvious about it. She was surrounded by his family and people he knew, so he should have been able to relax and focus on work. But it wasn’t paranoia about her safety that pulled his attention. It was the woman herself. His connection to her wasn’t so easy to ignore.
“What’s her name, E?”
He grabbed a towel from behind him and mopped up condensation from the bar’s surface. His eyes stayed on Bailee, looking good enough to eat in her red fitted top and jeans that were just tight enough to spotlight her curves without being overt.
“Like I’m going to tell you, Eddie. The last thing I need is to compete with you for her affections.”
The man guffawed before chugging back a gulp of his tap beer. His silver hair stuck straight up in tufts as if it had never seen the business end of a comb. His body was as tall as it waswide, and the crook at the end of his nose gave him an eagle-like appearance.
At eighty if he was a day, Eddie Tolliver was a fixture at the bar, and Easton enjoyed sparring with the man. He retired from the post office some twenty years ago and went to work with Ben at the hardware store as a stock boy. The man never slowed down, and he ended each day the same way — at the Fire Bar and Grill. He always drank one beer and one shot of top-shelf whiskey, ate his weight in peanuts, and then headed home to bed.
“Your girl’s safe from me,” Eddie drawled. “I got my eye on somebody else, a sweet little thing who moved into the retirement home down the hall from me. She’s a little spitfire that gets my motor going.”
Easton threw his back and laughed. “Good for you! Mine is a little spitfire too. They make life pretty interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
