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Either way, I’m not going to share a bed with Bailey all night without her express, coherent consent. I won’t trust any decisions she makes in this sleep-addled, exhausted state. And I won’t have her waking tomorrow with regrets.
It’s not easy to peel back the comforter and sheets while balancing Bailey against my chest, but I manage. Only … I hesitate once I’ve got the bed ready. Would she want to sleep in this dress?Canshe sleep in this dress?
I know nothing about fashion, but I am aware that a custom wedding gown from a designer like Zella wouldn’t be cheap. And it’s a gorgeous dress. Likely not one Bailey wants to get wrinkled and possibly ruined in sleep. But if I’m not willing to share a bed without consent, I’m not exactly going to take off her dress. The thought of it makes heat flood my neck and cheeks. I suddenly can’t wait to get out of this suit.
I stand there, cradling Bailey as I debate. Put her to bed in this dress, or wake her? I finally lean down, brushing my lips across her temples.
“Bailey, sweetheart?”
“Mmm?”
“Do you want to sleep in your dress, or do you want to change first?” Annie dropped our bags off in the suite earlier today, her one contribution to the wedding plans. And honestly, I’m shocked she managed even that. But my duffle is in the corner, next to a purple rolling suitcase that must be Bailey’s.
Way to come through, Annie.
“Change,” Bailey says with another yawn, her eyes still closed. “Is my bag here?”
“Yeah. Hang on.” Careful not to bunch the dress up under her, I rest Bailey on top of the sheets. She sighs and tucks her head against the pillow, her hair fanning out across it.
I stand there, staring for a moment, memorizing the way she looks in the soft white dress against white sheets, eyelids fluttering as though she’s already fallen into a dream. Maybe she has. But then her lids crack open slightly and she gives me the smallest smile.
“What?” she asks.
I grin and look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “Nothing. Just … nothing.”
It would be too much right now to tell her how beautiful she looks, wouldn’t it? I told her on no less than a dozen occasions tonight. I meant it every time. And every time, she blushed.
“You look good in a suit,” Bailey says, her eyelids fluttering closed again. “And in a jersey. And in those shorts you sleep in. Even a muumuu! I’m pretty sure you’d look good in anything. It’s not fair.”
Chuckling, I cross the room and unzip her bag. “Notanything. I couldn’t pull off scrubs like you do.”
Bailey snorts. “Scrubs are the least sexy things ever.”
“You make them look good, Bailey.”
My voice is gruffer than I intend, but maybe that’s because I’m imagining her lying in that bed in her normal work attire, hair tied up in a ponytail. I like this idea alot.
Maybe scrubsaren’tinherently sexy, but I wasn’t lying when I said she makes them look good. I like Bailey in everything I’ve seen. I’m sure she’ll look great in whatever pajamas she’s packed.
Only … as I unzip her bag, I realize I never should have trusted Annie. Not with a single, simple task.
Bailey’s whole suitcase is full of nothing but lingerie.
Not the kind that could double as a nightgown either. The kind I think can only be purchased at some kind of adult gag store. It’s all lace and strings and mesh. I’m not even sure there’s enough fabric in here to make a single outfit if someone quilted them together.
I drop my head to my chest and groan.
“What’s wrong?”
When I glance over, Bailey is leaning up on an elbow. Still looking sleepy, but more awake than she’s been since she first conked out in the car on the way here.
“We might have a problem,” I tell her, zipping the suitcase back up. I can’t keep looking at all this lace. I might get … ideas.
“What kind of problem?”
I stand, fisting my hands on my hips and swallowing hard. “Annie took it upon herself to repack your bags. Probably mine too.” I don’t even want to open mine, now that I’ve thought about it.
Bailey sits up fully. “Repacked themhow?”
