Chapter 29
I’M NOT INTO SAVING PUPPIES
Favorite scent?
Cole: Chamomile. I think that’s what Bridget’s hair smells like.
Bridget: Oh. Um. I don’t think I can answer that question right now.
COLE
Istill had Bridget’s phone. Okay, I might have been lowkey holding it hostage so she wouldn’t leave.
After I’d put Caitlyn’s hair into a French braid, I continued reading her the book Bridget had pulled up for us.
It was about a young girl fighting her parents and the school administration over a book ban.
It wasn’t something I’d have normally picked up, but Caitlyn loved the plucky main character and the humorous tone—until she fell asleep within five minutes.
It was really too bad because I’d become invested in the story and wanted to read the part where the girl and her friends got caught with their secret library of banned books by the evil principal.
I tucked the covers under Caitlyn’s chin, triple-checked that her chest was still rising and falling, and flicked off the light. After closing the door silently behind me, I rushed down the hall to the living room, hoping Bridget hadn’t used her laptop to call a car and leave.
She huddled under my coat on the sofa, staring at her laptop screen like it held the secrets of the universe. Her skin glowed blue in the light from the screen, and she looked as tired as I felt. I wanted to tuck her into bed and curl around her to ensure she got the sleep she needed.
I didn’t need sleep. All I needed was her soft body in my arms and the grassy scent of her hair tickling my nose as I breathed her in.
No.
Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose to bring myself back to reality. She’d said she didn’t want that. She was here to work, not to be my emotional support human.
“You’re still here,” I said lightly. “I gave you fifty-fifty odds of running away.”
“Running away?” She looked up from the screen. “Why would I do that?”
“I’d have run away.” I flopped onto the sofa and leaned my head back. “Zara’s right. I’m terrible at parenting.”
“You’re wrong.” My heart leaped. Until she said, “And also not wrong.”
“Ouch.” When I looked at her, she had that sanctimonious look on her face, the one she used to wear all the time around me. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
She closed her laptop and set it aside. “I know you can be great at it. You learned how to braid curly hair, which is next-level. But you’re…lacking in other areas. Like, you need to keep some damn food and basic medical supplies in your house.”
“Thanks for the feedback,” I said automatically. “How did you manage to magic up dinner out of my bachelor kitchen?”
“Lots of practice making something from almost nothing.” She flashed me a grim smile. “Growing up, sometimes there wasn’t enough for the seven of us. My dad lost his job and didn’t find work for a while.”
“In 2008?” I asked. Lots of my friends’ parents struggled then.
She laughed. “You sweet summer child. In 2008, I was already on my own. No, this was in the nineties. It wasn’t a recession, just his company downsizing.
The workforce was changing, becoming more digital, and he wasn’t prepared.
I didn’t understand that then. All I knew was that we had to shop at the church’s food pantry, and I didn’t want anyone at school to know I was getting free lunches.
At first, I skipped them. Then I figured out I couldn’t keep up my A average when I was hungry.
You bet I ate those free lunches after that.
But this is more than you wanted to know. ”
I took her hand. “No, it’s not. I want to know.”
Her smile was wry. “Anyway, pasta is cheap and goes a long way. With a little margarine, or butter when it was on sale, and whatever vegetables, canned or otherwise, we could get with food stamps, it tasted pretty good. Though I can’t say I ever ate buttered camp—campa—”
“Campanelle. It was delicious,” I said.
“And now you have a new skill. Though if you’d keep some kid-friendly foods in the house, like frozen chicken nuggets, a few boxes of mac and cheese, or even bread and peanut butter, you wouldn’t have to take your chances with the auditor’s gift basket.”
“You’re right.” I passed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble on my jaw. How did I not know what Bridget had overcome? I was a selfish bastard. “I can be hyper-focused on what I want. I should think about what others need too.”
“You’re getting there,” she said. “You took care of me when we were in Costa Rica.” Her cheeks went scarlet. “Like when the kayak tipped.”
I reached for her hand. “I want to give Cait what she needs too. That’s why I’m about to go to court to increase my share of custody.”
She tilted her head. “More custody? That’s going to be hard. Y’know, while you’re CEO and all.”
“Co-CEO,” I amended. “And I’d send Cait to the school where my brother and I went. St. Marcellin. It’s the best college prep program in the Bay Area. It has a residential program.”
But she didn’t give me the you’re-a-genius look I’d been hoping for.
She bit her lip, then said, “When my dad lost his job, our aunts and uncles offered to take some of us girls. You know, spread the expense so we weren’t such a burden on our parents.
Our parents asked us if we wanted to do it, and none of us wanted to go.
We didn’t want to be separated, even though if we did, we might’ve had our own rooms, more to eat, or new clothes.
Later, I asked my parents if they wished we’d done it. You know what they said?”
I shook my head, fascinated at the peek she’d given me into her home life.
“They were glad we didn’t go. They knew we were stronger together. That they’d work that much harder to claw their way back if they had us there, depending on them, loving them.”
“You’re saying I shouldn’t send Cait away to school.”
“I’m saying you should think about what she wants. And give yourself credit. I know you can be a good dad too.”
“Thanks.” I meant it.
She rolled her lips in, then pushed them out. I couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, so I clocked her intake of breath before she said, “It might be easier to spend time with Caitlyn if we keep splitting the CEO role.”
She’d started to say that in the office before Zara called, and I’d forgotten about it. She was right that work-life balance would be easier with Bridget by my side. “You trust me enough to work as partners, not competitors, beyond the ninety days?”
She turned to face me, tucking her knee up onto the sofa. “You were worried about my getting credit for the deal. I think you might actually…care about me. Professionally, of course.”
I shifted to mirror her position. “I do.” I could admit that.
And I wanted her body. Beyond that…well, I wasn’t ready to delve into those feelings.
I knew all too well what happened when I let myself get carried away with emotions.
My upcoming custody battle was only one consequence. “We work well together.”
I stared into her eyes, and I never wanted to fight her again. I only wanted to… No. I wasn’t ready for that. But I could take this step. “As soon as we finish this call center deal and show the board how much money we’ve saved together, we’ll propose it.”
She tucked her other knee onto the sofa. “I think we should wait for the ninety days to be up.”
“No, better to do it before they’ve made up their minds. Boards have a way of running away with a plan once they’ve committed to it.”
“Or maybe you’re afraid they’ll pick me, and you’ll have to live with the knowledge that I could’ve had the solo job, but I allowed you to share it with me?
” Her smile was wicked, and I wanted to kiss it off her face and leave her breathless.
But not until we’d come to an agreement about work. Both of our careers were at stake.
“Look, I know you deserved the job, but this is the situation we’re in. What do you think?”
Her expression turned serious. “I want to wait the full ninety days. We keep kicking ass through the end of January. Then they’ll see that we both deserve the CEO position. They’ll have no choice but to accept our proposal.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I hesitated. I’d just said I needed to consider what others wanted. And Bridget wanted this. “It’s a deal.” I held out my hand.
“Deal.” She put her tiny hand in mine, but there was nothing small about her handshake. It was firmer than most men’s. It was also dry from the dishwashing.
“I have some excellent lotion,” I said. “Would it be okay if I massaged some onto your hands?”
“Mmm. Is this a benefit of our partnership?”
I pretended to think about it. “I could write it into our employment contracts. Hand massages with high-quality lotion in exchange for occasional chef services.”
“Maybe we don’t get that specific. ‘Employment perks commensurate with duties performed’ should do it.”
“I’ll be right back.” As I strode to the bathroom to get the lotion, I tried to rein myself in, reminding myself that flirting was definitely outside the parameters of our agreement.
As were the perks I wanted to give her. But as I returned to the living room to find her huddled in my coat again, the resolution dropped away.
Why is it so sexy when she wears my clothes? “Are you cold?”
“A little. Your place is less sterile than I expected, but do you really like hard surfaces and monochromes?”
I sat close enough that my thigh brushed her knee. “I told my designer to keep it simple and then let him do what he wanted. Come here. I’ll warm you up.” I flicked on the gas fireplace with the remote control.
I didn’t think that line would work, but Bridget closed the narrow gap between us and shifted my coat to one side. I put my arm around her shoulders and took one of her small hands in mine. “Better?”
She nestled her head on my shoulder. “Yeah. Your living room is cozier when you’re in it.”