that if Aunt Bossy replied to her letter (and she didn’t have time to reply to every one she got), the answer wouldn’t appear until next week’s edition at the earliest, and then he’d watch as realization dawned.
Maybe he should just tell her the truth. Take the high ground and demand she marry him. But there were two major problems with that scenario: one, she’d know he was Aunt Bossy, and two, she’d refuse his proposal on the grounds he didn’t love her, but would start calling the shots anyway. Bailey didn’t excel at event planning for no reason; she was born a control freak and he wasn’t about to be pushed about by anyone. Not when his baby was involved.
The way he was playing things might be untoward, but he needed Bailey to confide in him on her own terms, or at least think she was.
While he deliberated, she recovered her shock and said, “I thought you only opened the paper for the sports news.”
It was supposed to be an insult and he felt it twist inside him like barbed wire, but he refused to let his hurt show. “Just goes to show you don’t know everything about me, Bailey Sawyer,” he said, his tone half amused, half suggestive.
Her eyes widened, color darkened her cheeks and for a second there he thought she was going to confess, but before she could say anything, a waitress with a badge announcing her as Daphne appeared at their table.
“Hey, y’all.” She obviously didn’t come from around here. “What can I get for you?”
Quinn looked to Bailey; Bailey looked to the waitress. “Can you give us a few more moments?”
All smiles, Daphne nodded and retreated. Bailey picked up the menu and Quinn did the same. It took him all of two seconds to decide on the chicken gorgonzola sandwich, but Bailey deliberated longer than she usually did over anything. He watched her brow furrowed in serious contemplation and wondered what she was thinking? Was she trying to work out if there was anything on the menu pregnant women shouldn’t eat? Or was she feeling queasy?
He’d been up half the night researching pregnancy on the internet, so he could have helped her make an informed decision, but as he’d already established he wasn’t ready to come clean, he sat patiently waiting while she made her choice. The second she put down her menu, Daphne swooped back to the table and smiled again, her pen poised over her pad ready.
“I’ll have the veggie frittata, please, and a Diet Coke,” Bailey said.
“Good choice.” The waitress scribbled, then looked to Quinn.
Before he could give his order, Bailey spoke again. “Actually, scrap the Diet Coke, I’ll have a club soda instead.”
He smiled his approval. She was doing everything she could to protect their baby. Including keeping him at a distance. This last thought killed his smile.
“Okay. Sure.” The waitress looked to Quinn. “And what can I get for you?”
Quinn ordered his sandwich and was glad when the other woman retreated. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me today,” he said, “especially on a weekend.” He stretched his legs out, pretending the brush against Bailey’s legs was accidental.
“It’s a pleasure,” she said, snapping her legs away from his, her cheeks reddening again. “Now, shall we get started?” Without waiting for a reply, she got out her notebook, diary and a pink pen and got straight down to business. “First things first. Have you got a date in mind?”
“Well, her birthday is March fifteenth, so I guess a weekend either side of that. What works best for you?”
Bailey stuck her pen between her teeth as she flicked through the pages of her diary. “We’ve got Saturday the eleventh or Saturday the eighteenth? I’m free either. Have you checked with...with your brothers and sisters yet?”
“Yep—I’ve spoken to everyone this morning. They’re really excited. And happy that you’re going to be involved.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? All of them?”
He reached across the table and took her hand—he could tell the action surprised her, but he didn’t retreat and neither did she. Her skin felt soft and her hand fit perfectly in his. “Yes. We all consider you part of the family. No one wants the fact that you’ve broken up with Callum to change that.”
Or what happened between you and me.
He could tell by the way her gaze met his and her cheeks turned slightly redder that she was also thinking about that night. She rubbed her lips one over the other and finally removed her hand. “Okay. Well, let’s go with the eleventh. If you want it to be a surprise, before the actual date is always better. She’s less likely to get suspicious or think you’ve all forgotten her birthday.”
Quinn chuckled. “I don’t think Mom would ever let us forget.”
The first smile of the day cracked across Bailey’s face. “No, Nora definitely wouldn’t let that happen. She’s going to be delighted by all this. I have a list of questions to ask you to give me a better idea of what you want. Ready?”
He nodded, although party plans were pretty low down on the list of things he’d like to be discussing with her right now.
“We’ve chosen a date, so next is the time of day. I’m guessing you’d prefer an evening event when the distillery has closed?”
Truthfully, he hadn’t given the finer details any thought, but he nodded all the same. He’d pretty much go along with whatever she suggested where the party was concerned, but he didn’t plan on being so obliging about their baby. “Sounds good. Say, about seven o’clock?”
Bailey scribbled that down. “You’ll have to work out how to get Nora out of the way for the afternoon while we set up.”
“I’ll put Annabel and Sophie in charge of that. They can invite her out for a late lunch or something.”
“Good thinking,” Bailey said as Daphne arrived with their drinks.
“Your meals won’t be long,” she promised, before turning back to the kitchen.
Bailey took a sip of her club soda and immediately returned to business. “Do you want a theme?”
“What? Like fancy dress?”
“I was thinking more like a special color or motif. You know, like butterflies, her favorite flower or something. But fancy dress could be fun.” She paused a few moments, then her eyes positively sparkled. “She was born in 1957, right? So let’s have a 1950s theme.”
“What? Like 1950s glamour?” Quinn imagined Bailey dressed as Audrey Hepburn, who had to be one of the sexiest women of all time. He’d always thought the resemblance between them uncanny. “That’s a brilliant idea. Mom will love that.”
“Glamour or rock ’n’ roll. There are a few different ways we could go with 1950s!”
As much as he’d liked the idea of Bailey as Audrey, rock ’n’ roll held more appeal when he thought of his family. They weren’t really the formal type. And Bailey would look just as sexy in one of those poodle skirts. “Let’s go with rock ’n’ roll.”
She nodded.
