Whatever caused the change, Bailey loved it, and she loved the way he made her feel cherished in his presence. After dinner, Dayne and Katy offered to do the dishes so the two of them could take a walk, and Bailey was grateful. It was dark outside, and she needed alone time with Brandon, needed it more during these early days in LA than she’d let on. Because a part of her missed Bloomington more than she had admitted even to herself. Snowy, freezing days and all.
Like other nights when they’d hung out together, Brandon’s driver had done an elaborate job of leading the paparazzi on a chase, keeping the photographers away for the night. Mock reservations had been made at a local restaurant, one where celebs often hung out. The manager was in on the ruse, though he didn’t know where Bailey and Brandon were really going to end up on Valentine’s Day. He was happy to get the buzz going, spread the word in quiet ways that Hollywood’s hottest young couple were going to share the holiday at his establishment.
An hour ago, Brandon’s driver had pretended to leave Katy and Dayne’s house with the couple in the back. Instead he had two caterers who had helped bring dessert to the Matthews’ house. He took them to the restaurant and ushered them in through the back door — giving the photographers who had chased him little chance to actually make out the couple’s faces. Once inside, the caterers went their separate ways, their cars waiting out front.
Meanwhile, Brandon and Bailey were left at the Matthews’ house without a single pair of eyes looking for them to walk out the back door.
This time they were both fairly certain they’d be left alone. Brandon took her hand and led her quietly across the empty stretch of sand to the water’s edge. “We spend a lot of time here, have you noticed that? Walking along the beach.”
“I love it.” Bailey stood close to him, looking out at the moon on the water. “This was the site of the famous seaweed ring, after all.”
“Mmmm.” He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close, his body warm against hers. “How could I forget?”
The air between them was easy. “Thank you, by the way.” She turned her back to the water and faced him.
“For what?” He brought his fingers to her face and slipped a section of her hair back behind her ears, so he could see her face despite the ocean breeze. “Dayne gets most of the credit for the shish-kabobs.”
She laughed. “Not that, silly. Thanks … for not proposing to me tonight. I mean,” She caught her hair in her hands and pulled it to one side. “This is Valentine’s Day, but instead of something all serious, you wanted to hang out with Katy and Dayne.” She smiled deep in his eyes. “Thanks for that.”
“Oh.” His face fell, but she knew him well enough to know he was teasing. “So … go ahead and keep the ring in my pocket? Is that it?”
“Quit it.” She backed up a few steps until the surf churned around her ankles. Then she bent down and flicked a few drops of foamy water at him. “You’re such a tease.”
“Me?” He ran lightly into the water, catching her by the waist and threatening to drop her into an approaching wave. “Look at you, Miss Splash-Whenever-I-Want-To.”
“Sorry!” She released a quiet scream. “I didn’t mean it!”
He started to let go, like he really might let her get drenched in the cold water out here this late at night. But then at the last moment he stood her back on her feet. “Of course … ruin my proposal. You deserve to be dunked.”
“Brandon!” She was laughing harder, so hard she couldn’t possibly be serious with him now. “There was no proposal tonight. You wouldn’t have brought me here.”
His grin went a long way to hide his thoughts, whatever they might be. But again she felt that new, attractive depth about him. Like he was growing into a man who would not only love her, but take care of her. When they were back up a few feet from the water, he looked at her, letting the silliness settle for a minute. “You feel less ready … is that it?”
She looked at him and saw that despite his smile, his wide open eyes, he wasn’t teasing. She folded her arms in front of her and looked out at the farthest points of the dark sea. “It’s different … living here.” She lifted her chin, letting the breeze dry the drops of water on her face. “I guess I need to be sure … that I can make this my home.”
“Because sunny Februarys are hard to get used to.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders again. “Right?”
“No … but if I fall any harder for you, there won’t be any looking back. And I still love Bloomington.” She’d thought about this a lot lately. “I never pictured getting married, raising a family here in LA, at the beach. I don’t know; it just doesn’t seem the same.”
Brandon nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I understand. It’s a big decision.”
This was one more thing she loved about him, the way he had of giving her space and time, knowing that she couldn’t be rushed. She was about to thank him again when suddenly they heard the sound of pounding feet. “Not again.”
“Run, Bailey.” Brandon took her hand and led her. “Don’t turn around.”
Did this always have to happen? Even after the extensive plans they’d made to find time alone? Would they have to stay shut up in Brandon’s beach house or locked in some other indoor place in order to find time alone? Bailey ran as fast as she could, but she could sense the people behind her gaining ground.
“Bailey! Brandon! Turn around. Come on … we know it’s you!” the man closest to them shouted, his voice intense.
Bailey suddenly felt the familiar fear grab her around the throat, making it hard for her to catch her breath. It wasn’t the presence of the paparazzi … it was the permanence of them that made panic course through her veins. “I … can’t run … that fast, Brandon.”
“You can do it. Please … keep running.” Brandon wasn’t out of breath. He had already slowed his pace so she could keep up with him.
What was wrong with her? At home she could run twice this fast on the track at Clear Creek High. And she’d been working out more than usual, having danced for hours on end during Hairspray rehearsals and performances. Her cardio ability should’ve put distance between the heavy-footed paparazzi and them. She pushed herself, but even as she did, she knew the problem. It was her fear. She couldn’t draw a breath because her panic was moving faster than either of them or the photographers.
Dear God … please … give me Your peace. Slow my racing heart.
Katy and Dayne’s house was only a hundred yards away, but it might as well have been a hundred miles. Bailey felt the defeat hit her. There was no way they could outrun the paparazzi all the way to the Matthews’ back staircase.
“Just a few pictures!” The voice was closer, the feet behind them gaining ground quickly.
“They won’t hurt you.” Brandon looked back at her as they kept running. “Just don’t turn around. It’s okay.”
But suddenly, before Bailey could respond or will herself to believe him, she felt a hand grab her from behind. The jolt stopped her sharply and dropped her to the sand.
Brandon wheeled around and moved to her side.
“I’m okay … it’s my ankle. It turned.” She closed her eyes, held her hand over her face even as the man who had made her fall began taking pictures.
The anger and rage that came over Brandon’s face was unlike anything Bailey had ever seen. He rushed at the photographer and grabbed the man’s camera. Another ten photogs ran up a dozen yards behind him, but they stopped short when they saw what Brandon was doing. They all lifted their cameras and began taking pictures at rapid fire. Even in the dark of night, Bailey figured they were getting something they could use. She was still sprawled out on the sand, more worried for Brandon than herself. “Brandon! Stop.”
“No!” He didn’t look back at her. “I saw him grab you! I won’t let him do that.”
The man before him was squaring off at him, his fists raised, his camera now untangled from around his neck and down on the shore, half immersed in the surf. B
randon loomed over the man with an intensity and strength Bailey hadn’t known he was capable of, and before the guy could take a swing, Brandon punched him square in the face. As the man fell to the ground, Brandon stood over him, ready to hit him again. “If you ever … ever touch her again,” Brandon seethed, his voice raised, body shaking, “you’ll be sorry.” He looked like he might kick the man, but then he backed up. “You hear that?” He shouted straight at the others, disregarding the fact that their cameras were still shooting at him, still capturing every moment. “Don’t touch her again!”
From where she lay, Bailey was giddy with his show of protection. She eased herself to her feet and tested her ankle. It hurt, but it wasn’t sprained or broken. Even if it was she couldn’t take her eyes off Brandon, still glaring at the paparazzi.
On the ground, the man was writhing, holding his nose. “I’ll sue you, Brandon Paul! Mark my words, I’ll sue you.”
“Go ahead.” Brandon brushed his knuckles on his jeans and made a fast approach at the laid out photographer once more. He hissed in the man’s face. “Ever heard of self-defense? Call a lawyer, and I’ll have you thrown in jail for assault.”
This time he took a step back and shouted at the guys. “Get off this beach … now.” He waited, backing up so he could take hold of Bailey’s hand. “You heard me, go.”
The photographers didn’t know what to do. They were used to being the pursuers, the ones in control. But not now. Sheepishly they waited for the downed photog to grab his wet camera and scramble in the opposite direction from Brandon. Then, as if they’d had enough of this crazed version of Brandon Paul, they headed as a group down the beach, back to wherever they came from.
Brandon looked at her, put his hands to her face, and searched her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She felt dizzy, but not because of the paparazzi or her breathlessness. Her lungs worked just fine. “That was amazing.”
“What?” His knuckles were bleeding and he wiped them again on his jeans. “I meant it, Bailey. No one better ever touch you again.”
“I know …” She smiled and brought his hand to her lips, kissing the scraped areas near his bleeding knuckles. “No one’s … ever done that for me.”
Brandon looked upset with himself, guilty somehow. “I’m sorry … I lost it. I’ve never done that before and it was … it was wrong.”
He was right about that, but she understood. “You didn’t mean to punch the guy. It’s okay.” She touched the side of his face. “You defended me.”
“I had to.” He was still breathing hard. “I mean, what was I supposed to do? Someone touches you they’ll have to deal with me.” His face relaxed some and he kissed her lips, kissed her tenderly and gently. “I’ve got you, Bailey … no one’s ever going to hurt you again.” He was out of breath. “But I can’t go around punching paparazzi, either.”
He kept his arm around her shoulders, glancing back every few seconds to make sure no one followed them. As they made their way back to Katy and Dayne’s, Bailey’s heart had never been more full. Because Brandon Paul didn’t only love her. He would die for her. Defend her. And though she hadn’t meant it literally, Brandon had done something no other guy had ever done. Even Cody Coleman. Something she had only dreamed a guy who loved her might do.
Brandon had fought for her.
Twenty-Seven
JENNY FLANIGAN HUNG UP THE PHONE AND STARED OUT THE window for a long time. Jim must’ve realized the call was over because he walked up behind her. “That sounded interesting.”
“It was.” She turned and hugged him for a long while. “Bailey had quite a night.” She explained about the dinner at Katy and Dayne’s and the walk she and Brandon had taken on the beach and the crazy paparazzi chasing after them. “I guess one of them grabbed Bailey’s wrist and she fell to the ground.”
“What?” Jim took a step back, angry. “That’s not okay.”
“Brandon didn’t think so either.” She raised her brow. “He drew back and leveled the guy. Threw his camera down and punched him square in the face. Told the others they’d be sorry if any of them ever touched her again.”
Jim’s eyes grew wide and a smile filled his face. “Brandon did that?”
“Yep.” Jenny knew what her husband had to be thinking. “If you ever worried whether Brandon could take care of her, I guess that settles it.”
“But …” Jim came close again, kissing her forehead, his eyes full of compassion. “He’s not Cody Coleman.”
“I know.” She released a long sigh. “You could always read my mind.”
“Not always …” He tilted his head, patient with her, kindness filling his tone. “Let’s go sit in the living room. The kids are asleep. We can talk out there.”
“Not very romantic … talking about our kids on Valentine’s Day.” Jenny had promised herself that tonight would be about just the two of them, the love they shared, the romance that still marked their marriage now more than ever. But she hadn’t counted on the call from Bailey.
“Not romantic?” Jim chuckled. “Watching you figure out our kids is very romantic. Makes me beyond glad that God brought you into my life.” He kissed her again and then took her hand, leading her into the next room. “I definitely married up.”
“Jim …” She loved when he did this, showering her with compliments she didn’t actually deserve. Because deserved or not she loved him for being the kind of man who knew exactly what she needed.
When they were seated on the sofa, she exhaled again. “I have a confession.”
“I sort of figured.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and ran his fingers along her arm. “About Bailey?”
“Yes.” She drew another deep breath and let it out again.
“Keep that up and you’ll need a paper bag.” He raised his brow at her. “This is me, remember? You can talk about it.”
She laughed at the mental picture of herself hyperventilating rather than simply saying what was on her mind. “Last weekend, when Cheyenne died, I encouraged Bailey to stay a few days. So she could be there for Cody.”
“Hmmm.” Jim didn’t sound critical or judgmental. Just puzzled. “I wondered why she stayed. He was reaching out more to me than her.”
“I know. But I told her … it would be callous to rush off to LA. When maybe he would need her.”
“And …” Jim didn’t need to say more than that. They knew each other too well.
“And I never believed anything of the sort. I just figured …” She shrugged, embarrassed by her own actions. “I figured if Cheyenne was gone, then maybe once Bailey and Cody had a day together, he would use that time to tell her how he’s always felt about her.”
“So … you’re convinced about Cody. That he’s the guy for her, is that it?”
She exhaled again, but when she caught his pointed look again she laughed out loud at herself. “It’s all about that long ago Fourth of July. I got my mind stuck on something back then, and I can’t see it any other way.”
“You?” Jim brushed his free hand in her direction and made a silly face. “Never!”
“I know … it’s true. Every once in a while.” She nodded, sheepish, and grateful for the way he had of keeping the moment light. Even when her confession really was a serious one. “You remember that Fourth of July?”
“When Cody came back from the war.” He didn’t have to ask; he was tracking with her as if he knew her thoughts before she spoke them.
She went on to describe what she’d seen that day. “I’ve probably told you this before.” “Probably.”
“Anyway … I’ll tell you again because it sets up my confession.” He smiled at her. “Of course.”
She explained once more how Cody had walked through the front door and hugged Bailey. “And I told myself no one … no one would ever love her like Cody loved her.”
Jim’s smile softened a little. “I remember feeling like that.”
“Right … see?” She allowed another hard exhale an
d caught herself again. “At least I’m not the only one.”
“But? Because there’s a but here. I can feel it.”
“But that Cody Coleman …” She shook her head, still frustrated with him. “He didn’t cooperate. A year ago summer I thought their love story was all but written. And not for a minute did I think some …” She waved her hand in the air. “Some playboy Hollywood hunk would sweep our girl off her feet. Not when Cody had been there for so many years loving her, waiting for her.”
“Waiting for her?”
“Well.” She made a face. “That’s the thing. I thought he was waiting. That he wanted her to have her college days … and then that he was backing off so she could follow her dreams. But, Jim, that boy has backed himself right out of the picture.”
“Yes.” Jim’s face was more serious than before. “He certainly has.”
“And so here’s the confession.”
“I knew it was coming.”
She laughed, and it felt good. The truth she was wrestling with was not a funny matter. But at least Jim didn’t think she was terrible for where she was headed with this. “I think with Bailey I always thought I could sort of hold the pen to her story. I’d see the people she should stay away from, the people she should run to — like Katy Hart back in the day.”
Jim nodded, his eyes locked on hers.
“And when Cody came into our lives, well, to be honest at first I didn’t like him. I thought, you know, over my dead body was a kid like Cody Coleman going to come into our home and fall for our daughter.”
“I felt the same way.”
“Right.” She felt herself relax a little, felt the intensity of her story soften. “But he changed, and he became this … this amazing guy. And when he came back from war I took my little pen and wrote that part of Bailey’s story. Cody would love her. And they’d live happily ever after.”