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“No.” His answer was swift, his attention focused solely on Millie Sue. “We’re leaving.” Ignoring their friend, Cal slid his arms around Millie and pulled her close. His nose grazed the side of her neck, followed by his lips, and before she had a chance to form a sentence or say a word, his mouth closed over hers.
Cal Bridgestone kissed Millie Sue so thoroughly that her knees buckled. If not for his arms around her, she would have ended up on the floor, a heavy dose of Cal Bridgestone lust to thank for it. His hands were in her hair, down her butt, and his mouth was relentless. His kiss was both tender and strong, and when they finally came up for air, she could barely breathe.
“I missed you,” Cal said softly, his voice low and intimate.
“I’d say get a room, but clearly, you don’t care.”
They ignored Mike Paul. Heck, there could have been one hundred people in the Sundowner and Millie Sue couldn’t see them. All she saw was the man in front of her.
She probably should have thought about the conversation she’d just had. The one where she declared her intent to be careful. To guard her heart. Because if she had, she might have pulled away, put some distance between her and Cal and taken things slowly. But the molten heat between them took over, and all thoughts of caution left as quick as they’d come.
She could only think about the promise of later. When they were alone in her bed with all that time and energy to spend on each other. When he’d tell stories that made her laugh and kiss her until she couldn’t think straight. And she would use her body to show him what her words couldn’t say.
The thing was, for a woman who was used to being left behind, later wasn’t generally something she liked to think about. But as she slipped her hand into Cal’s big one, and he led them out of the Sundowner, she decided that for now, later would be okay.
It was themuchlater she would have problems with.
CHAPTER18
Wednesday was hoppingmad in Big Bend. With the holidays looming and all stores and businesses closed for Thursday, last-minute shopping seemed to be on the minds of a lot of folks. Christmas decorations were up in the downtown square, a large tree lit to the nines, full of twinkling lights in a myriad of colors. It was a welcome sight to those who wandered through the core with hot chocolate and dogs and kids, most of whom were strangers to Big Bend—families staying in the chalets near the ski hills about twenty minutes away.
While the locals were running errands and doing last-minute food shopping, the tourists fed the tills of boutiques and the shops that lined the city center. Cal saw Mrs. Winger outside her bakery, Sugar Kiss, chatting animatedly with a family. He smiled when he spied the treats in her window, a new idea in his head.
He found parking a few hundred feet away and exited the truck, then made his way up the street.
Mrs. Winger looked pretty much the same, except her hair was whiter, her hips a tad wider, and her smile just as big. She spied him at about the same time the family did. A young girl, maybe fifteen or so, started to jump up and down, phone out and voice high.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she squealed.
Cal politely posed for a few selfies, signed a napkin provided by Mrs. Winger, which made the teenager nearly faint, and then he followed the older lady into Sugar Kiss. The woman locked up and turned the sign fromOpentoClosed.
“Calvin Bridgestone. What a nice surprise,” Mrs. Winger said as she ambled behind the counter. “You’re in luck,” she winked. “I’m done for the day and heading home to my grandbabies, but I can get you some treats before I do.” She grabbed a paper bag. “You remember my Ginny?”
Big smile. Big personality. Smart and funny. “I sure do,” Cal replied. “She damn near kicked my butt from here to California senior year.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Winger raised an eyebrow. “I don’t doubt you deserved it.”
“A prank gone wrong,” was all he was going to say.
“Well, she married Walter Davidson straight out of high school, and they have five kids.”
“You don’t say.”
“They keep us busy, that’s for sure. Especially the oldest, Janey. She’s a firecracker, that one.”
“Just like her mama, then.”
Mrs. Winger chuckled. “That’s for sure. Now, what can I get you?”
“An assortment would be great.”
As the woman got busy filling up the bag with a variety of sweets and pastries, she kept up the conversation.
“How’s your daddy? I hear he’s off the booze.”
“Apparently.” His reply was forced. Manley Bridgestone wasn’t his idea of a topic of conversation.
“It’s hard, breaking that kind of behavior, but he looked mighty fine to me the last time he was I town.”
