“You’re sure?”he asked, his eyes sharp.
She knew she was putting a heavy weight on him, but he’d bear it.“I trust you.”
Something like gratitude flashed in his eyes, for just a moment.Then he nodded.“Safeword?”
Trust was one thing, but foregoing a safeword would be beyond reckless.“I’ll go with my usual.You remember?”
His eyes glinted with mirth, the dimple popping in his cheek.“How could I forget?You’re the only person I know whose safeword is the name of a British girl-group from the eighties.”
She let out a delighted laugh.“It’s Robin’s fault.She played that shit so often.”
“You’re also the only person I know whose safeword comes from their mother,” he added drily.
“‘Bananarama’ is a perfect safeword,” she argued.“And that time I had to use it when we were staying at my folks’ house for Thanksgiving, my mom just thought we were arguing about music.”
“You made me shout ‘John Melencamp’ to make it believable,” he remembered with a grin.
“And she playedVenusover breakfast to prove it was better thanPaper in Fire,” Bailey hooted, laughing so hard she had to stop eating.
“Your dad knew something was up,” he said, his dimple deepening when his grin widened.“He gave me the stink eye all morning.”
“He knew I hated that damn band,” Bailey said with a final chuckle.“And he could probably hear us fucking.We were right next to the den, and he always watched the late shows.”
Nash grimaced.“You’re kidding.”
“He didn’t care.”
Nash just stared at her, and she grinned.“Okay, he cared.But he respected my autonomy, and he liked you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Nash muttered and lifted his beer.
“Well, as much as he could like a guy making his daughter shout ‘Bananarama’,” she amended, and snickered when he choked on the beer.
“Please tell me he didn’t know that was your safeword,” he wheezed.
“God, no.”She polished off her chicken leg while he sagged with relief.“I mean, I’m close to my parents, but I’m not that close.”
“Thank God.”He eyed her curiously.“How are they?”
“My parents?”She wrapped the leg bone in the same paper towel she’d used for the thigh, then tore another off the roll to wipe her hands.“They’re good.”
“Your mom still at City Hall?”
Bailey nodded.“And Dad’s still driving the truck.”
Nash’s lips twitched.“That doesn’t surprise me.Is he still collecting coffee cups from truck stops?”
“Yes, but Mom made a rule a few years ago forbidding duplicates, because she was tired of taking the extras to the second-hand store.So now he tries to take new routes, just so he can bring home a new one.”
“That sounds like Ben.”
“They thought you moving in here was nuts,” she blurted out.
Humor warmed his eyes.“I bet.Did they try to talk you out of it?”
“Not really.”
“Probably because they know arguing with you is an exercise in futility.”