Bridger’s eyes opened. Found mine. Something in them sparked. He was glad. Glad I was stuck here longer.
I should have been frustrated. I had a road trip to finish. A life to figure out. A budget that was about to start hemorrhaging.
I glanced at Bridger again. He was sitting back now, his arms stretched out along the top edge of the tub, watching me like he was already planning how he’d spend those two weeks.
Still sitting in hot water, I shivered at the thought.
Of course one of Momma’s rules popped into my head.
Rule #44: Never let a man know he’s winning, even when he’s currently holding all the cards.
“Thanks for letting me know, Lou.”
“You hanging in there up at Bridger’s place?”
I caught Bridger’s gaze. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m hanging in.”
“Good. He treating you right?”
Oh, he was treating me very right.
“Yes, sir. Couldn’t ask for a better host.”
Bridger’s mouth curved into a sinful smile.
“Alright then. I’ll call when the parts come in.”
We hung up, and I set the phone back on the edge of the deck.
Bridger moved through the water, slow and deliberate, closing the distance I’d put between us. When he reached me, his hands settled on either side of the tub, caging me in.
But he didn’t kiss me. Didn’t touch me.
Just looked, his gaze tracing over my face with a terrifying intensity.
“Bridger.”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to...” I trailed off. My brain, usually so good at logic, had completely malfunctioned. Maybe it was because of all the hormones that had been released inside me by Bridger’s mouth. And his fingers. God, his fingers.
“Going to what?”
“You know what.”
“Say it.”
“Are we going to...” I swallowed. “Finish what we started?”
He was quiet for a long moment. So long I thought maybe he was going to say no. That he’d come to his senses. That this was a terrible idea, and we should both go to our separate rooms and forget it ever happened.
“Not tonight,” he finally said.
My heart dropped. “Oh.”
He saw my face and his thumb brushed my cheek. “Hey. Look at me.”
I did.
