Almost a Family Read Online Free

and they fell into a companionable silence. Virginia wanted to bottle the moment and keep it, because visions of the bumpy road ahead of them terrified her. He'd turned his back on her years before in the most devastating of circumstances.
    What about this time? When the going got tough, would Bailey get gone?
    Her mind still swirled with uncertainties when she inserted a key into the door of her sporty sedan. Bailey whistled low in appreciation. He was standing so close, she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
    "Nice wheels."
    Bailey used to say he could size up people just by the car they drove. In fact, he'd admitted it had been the faded blue Mustang Virginia had been driving in college that he'd noticed first. She glanced at him as she swung into the gray leather bucket seat. "Thanks."
    He stood with his arm on the open door, looking as if he were about to say something. Most of his face was cast in shadow, and Virginia felt vulnerable beneath the bright interior light. She met his gaze and waited. Had he changed his mind?
    "Virginia, I..."
    If he didn't have the stomach for what lay ahead, she needed to know now. "What is it, Bailey?"
    The muscles in his forearm bunched as he shifted his weight and leaned forward. He opened his mouth to speak, his white teeth glistening. "I... I'll be right behind you." Stepping away from the car, he closed the door with a solid thunk.
    She exhaled in relief, then waited until he drove up behind her before pulling out. On the forty-minute drive to her town home, she glanced often in the rearview mirror, expecting him to bail any second. He stuck with her, though, and the presence of his headlights was ridiculously comforting. Her small driveway provided a snug fit for two cars, but Bailey maneuvered in behind her expertly.
    Soft landscaping lights outlined her short walkway and led them to a cobblestone stoop. As Bailey climbed the steps, she watched him peer at the bushes and flowers on either side with a trained eye and silently dared him to pass judgment on her tiny home.
    Neither of them spoke as she unlocked her front door with a shaky hand and dismantled the security system from a keypad in the entry hall. The flashing "okay" light did little to settle her nerves regarding the near stranger who'd followed her inside. Virginia flipped on lights and turned to find Bailey surveying his surroundings with an impassive face. She knew him well enough to realize he would be more impressed by the hand-rubbed wood floors than by the luxurious rugs that lay upon them, and more taken by the ornate molding along the ceiling than by the chandelier glimmering above their heads.
    "Coffee?" she asked, laying her keys on a slim marble-topped table, then moving through the hall toward the kitchen.
    "Sure," he murmured, following her at a slower pace.
    She felt self-conscious as she flooded her small, frilly kitchen with light. The wallpaper was blatantly feminine in its soft flower-and-fruit pattern, every detail of the room reflecting her bent for country English decor. She pulled a coffeemaker from a cubbyhole and scooped up fresh grounds, then added water. At last she turned to face Bailey, her heart pounding.
    He balanced on a highback wicker barstool like a predator against the backdrop of a flowered meadow. Nevertheless, he looked casual and comfortable, able to charm a room full of furniture into accommodating him.
    "How long have you lived here?" he asked.
    "Going on four years."
    He pointed to the porcelain sink and antique faucet. "This place has character."
    She smiled. "All the old houses do."
    "Can I get a tour?"
    She hesitated, but he was already unfolding himself to explore. She went from room to room, her pride growing as she illuminated a dining room, living room, and small library accented sparingly with lustrous antiques and plush fabrics. She couldn't help but compare her hand-picked treasures to the blue-light specials they'd lived on in the aged farmhouse. But they'd been