32. Chase
32
CHASE
T wo trucks pulled into the cratered lot at Jokers. I let out a slow whistle as the door of mine opened, and Bridget dropped to her feet. White and red bags were piled in the truck bed.
Dear Lord, I hope it wasn’t all Bridget’s. I told her that I was okay with her redecorating the house, and I was. But heaven help me, there were enough bags to fill three houses in the truck bed. Mansions at that. And that didn’t even begin to cover the second mountain of shopping bags in the bed of Will’s truck.
The six of us men had parked in a row so we could help our ladies sort through the aftermath of their shopping trip.
Bridget skipped toward me with a smile and threw her arms around my neck. “Tell that vein to go back in your head,” she said with a laugh as she popped up onto her tiptoes and kissed my temple. “Only five bags are mine.”
I let out a very audible sigh of relief and glanced over at Luca, who looked like he was having a very real aneurysm.
From the looks of things, most of it was Maddie’s .
“They’re having a boy!” she whispered. “We’re gonna have another nephew!”
I laughed as I slid my arms around her waist. “I know. Luca told us earlier.” Yelled it at us was more like it, but I couldn’t blame the guy for being excited.
The poker club had quickly sorted through the Target wreckage and were heading inside for a bite, but I wanted to steal a little one-on-one time with my girl.
“Did you have a good time?” I asked as I tugged the elastic out of the bottom of her braid.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “It was fun.”
“Good.” I held the little rubber band between us. “Marry me?”
She pecked my lips again. “Every day.”
“Good.” I slung my arm around her shoulders as she rolled the hair tie onto her ring finger. “I’m starving.”
“You know, if you keep this up, I might run out of hair ties soon.”
“Guess I’ll have to graduate to the big leagues then.”
As soon as Bridget left this morning, I went back inside to grab the ring I had purchased long ago, and took it to the jeweler to be cleaned.
I hadn’t quite decided when I wanted to pop the official question. Bee needed time to adjust to us living together first. We were both still going to therapy. On top of all of that, there was the irritating matter of Kingsley evading arrest.
Wanda was behind the bar tonight, training a new hire. The scrawny kid looked like he had just turned twenty-one and was absolutely terrified. Wanda was barking orders like a drill sergeant.
Bridget, taking pity on the kid, leaned over the bar and whispered something. Relief flooded his face, and he thanked her profusely, hustling off to the other side of the U-shaped bar .
I took advantage of the moment and stared at her legs. She looked so damn good in that little dress. It hung just above her knees, but when she bent over the bar, I got a little peek at the tops of her thighs. My cock hardened when her hips swayed back and forth, one ankle tucked behind the other. Her ass was a fucking dream.
It took everything in me to vanquish the urge to smack those luscious cheeks and mark her with my handprint.
Instead of indulging my inner caveman, I took the spot beside her and pulled out a barstool so she could sit.
“You want your usual?” she asked casually as she filled out an order ticket.
“Sounds good.”
“Beer?”
I shook my head. “You’re not working tonight. Relax. I can wait for Wanda to take my order.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t,” she said with a wry smile before throwing the ticket through the kitchen window. “You know how I get when I’m hangry.”
“Thank you for sparing us the rampage.”
“I’m just warning you. I’ll never be the girl who pretends she’s not hungry. I’ll eat my food and yours, too.”
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
“This is the problem with us having known each other for ages. You know I eat like a trucker.”
“An adorable trucker.”
Miss Wanda swung by and dropped two beers in front of Bridget and me. Because I was a creature of habit, she followed it up with a glass of water and a straw. I carefully peeled back the paper and stuck it in my drink as Bridget settled into a wedding planning conversation between Mel and Hannah Jane .
Jason and Melissa weren’t getting married at the Taylor Creek Inn, but had enlisted Hannah Jane’s event prowess for their big day.
Jase had asked me to be his best man, and I had no doubt that Bee would be Mel’s maid of honor. That was, if she didn’t corner the title matron of honor before Mel and Jase said their I dos.
I wasn’t planning on proposing with hair ties and paper rings forever.
By the time the new kid breezed through with our dinner plates, I had twisted my straw wrapper into a ring. I shoved it into my pocket for later. A guy couldn’t propose too many times, right?
As soon as Bridget had finished inhaling her burger, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor. Our chests collided, and she let out a laugh that had her chin tipping up and her hair spilling down her back.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her cheeks and kissed her like it was our first. Every time with her felt like the first and the last. There had been a time when I thought I had waited too long. When I thought I would never get the girl. That I had lost her. That she wasn’t going to make it.
I wasn’t going to take a single kiss for granted.
I pulled her into frame so we could two-step to Charlie Daniels with the rest of the crowd. Her feet moved in perfect time with the beat. Dancing with Bee had always been one of my favorite things about showing up at Jokers. Even when she was on shift, I could usually pull her out on the scuffed wood for a song or two.
Years ago, Kyle had stormed into the bar while I was dancing with Bridget and lost his shit. It took Steve hauling him outside to deescalate the situation. I should have known then that something wasn’t right. I could still remember the way Bridget cowered to him that night.
And she shouldn’t be cowering to anyone .
I had missed swinging around the peanut shell-covered dust bowl of a dance floor with her, so I pulled her closer.
“We should go out to the truck,” Bridget whispered against my lips with a devilish smile. “Or the stockroom.” She pressed her body flush to mine. The bulge in my jeans rocked against her soft belly. A wicked gleam reflected in her eye. “Or out behind the building.”
“You trying to get arrested?” I whispered against the curve of her ear.
“Maybe I’m just trying to see if you’ll actually break out those handcuffs or if you’re just talking a big game.” Her lashes brushed my cheek as she looked up at me. Those innocent fucking doe eyes were a dirty lie. “What do you think, Detective Brannan ?” she said in a sexy rasp that had me on a hair-trigger. “Wanna take me outside?”
Hell yeah, I did. I want her bent over the hood of my car, wrists crossed behind her back, shackled by my hand as I rut myself deep inside her. I wanted to bark at her, ordering her to get that ass up higher, or I’d teach her a lesson. I want to make her come and then push her down to her knees and shove my cock in her mouth. I wanted to pull her hair as I shot my load down her throat.
Nope.
“I’ll take my time with you when we get home, darlin’,” I whispered back as the jukebox slowed down to an old Tim McGraw hit. “Make you feel so good you’ll forget how to breathe.”
The mossy eyes that had been staring at me like I hung the moon suddenly looked away. “You didn’t have a problem fucking me in your truck on the beach.”
“That wasn’t a quick fuck, and you know it. I planned that night to be perfect for you. We made love.”
She turned her cheek, resting it on my collarbone, so she didn’t have to look at me .
“Bridge…” I flattened my hand against the small of her back and drew idle circles as we boot-scooted across the dancefloor. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she clipped, looking up and plastering on a phony smile. “I’m great.”
Before I could call her on her shit, Erica and Maddie ran over, dragging Bridget away for a game of pool.
I sauntered back to the bar for a drink. Something strong.
“What’cha want?” Wanda snapped in her usual no-nonsense surliness. Bridget and Wanda made a great team. Everyone loved Bridget and feared Wanda. It was an odd mix that turned newcomers into regulars and had regulars here as often as they could swing it.
“Uh, just a refill on my water when you have a minute.”
Instead of water and ice, she dropped a rocks glass in front of me and poured a shot of Jack. The old bird must have been losing her hearing or something.
“I heard you loud and clear the first time,” Wanda said as she proceeded to top off my water. “But I’ve been serving drinks a long time. You get real good at reading people.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked as I eyed the whiskey. “And you think I need a shot?”
“The whiskey’s your emotional lube. It’ll help you get your head out of your ass.” She had the timbre of a three-pack-a-day smoker and the tact of a runaway bulldozer.
Whiskey suddenly sounded like a great idea. “Cheers to not getting railed up the ass,” I muttered as I took a sip.
“You’re fuckin’ it up, boy,” she said, her tone snapping like a rubber band.
I stared across the bar at Bridget. She was resting her chin on top of her pool stick. I’d put money on her having a blue dot under her chin from the cue chalk .
Luca walked by as Maddie leaned over the table, lining up her shot. Before she struck the cue ball, Luca smacked her butt.
If I hadn’t been trained in the art of reading people, I would have missed the way Bridget’s ears pulled back. The slight part of her lips. The way her eyes tracked the quick interaction between Maddie and Luca. The tension in her jaw.
Was she jealous?
“Well, looky there. You learn something new every day when you open your eyes,” Wanda harrumphed. “You’re not as stupid as you look.”
I drank the whiskey in a single swallow. “Has she said something to you?”
Wanda shook her head as she shoved a pen in her beehive of silver hair. “I don’t spread gossip. But sometimes, if I overhear things said between girls during their girls’ night, I try to steer their men in the right direction. Being a bartender basically makes me a public servant, you know.”
The drive home from the bar probably would have been tense if Bridget and I had ridden together. But we had driven separately, which meant we both had time to overthink our conversion on the dance floor.
Bridget had been perfectly pleasant the rest of the night. We danced. Had drinks with the poker club. Played a round of darts. Shot pool. It was all just… Fine.
Something was brewing beneath the placid smiles and fake laughs. She was acting like she had a few months ago. Back when she was pretending everything was fine, when it was anything but.
“Let me get those for you, darlin’,” I said as I locked my car and walked over to the truck. She was sliding Target bags onto her arms.
“I’ve got it,” she clipped, hopping down from the drivers’ seat.
“Bridg—”
“I’ve got it. I’m fine. I can handle a few bags.” Something fiery flashed across her eyes.
My attempt at being a fucking gentleman had turned into a standoff with my girlfriend. Fiancé?
Well, fine. If she wanted to be stubborn, two could play that game. I crossed my arms as I used my body to block her into the space of the open truck door.
“Chase.” Her voice was tight. Tense. Nearly a growl.
“Tell me what your problem is.”
She shoulder-checked me and walked toward the house. “I told you. I’m fine. I had a good day with the girls and a great night with you.” She stabbed her key into the lock and shoved the door open before I could even make it up the porch steps. “Everything’s fine.”
“Bridget.” I put my hand on her arm, turning her to face me. Even in the darkened house, I could see a tear streaming down her cheek. “Hey, now…” I soothed as I cupped her cheeks and wiped the tear away. More filled her eyes, but hadn’t spilled over. “How can I make it better if you don’t tell me what’s got you upset?”
She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth quivered in defiance to her declaration of being fine . “Everything’s g-great,” she whimpered as she sucked in a breath.
I thought back to what Wanda had hinted. Something was very wrong. I just didn’t know what the fuck it was.
I closed the door behind us and slid the shopping bags off her arms. When I finally turned on the lights, I could see the red lines and puffy lids around her eyes.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, needing to start narrowing it down .
Bridget shook her head.
“Did someone say something to you?”
The “no” that she sighed out was hesitant. If this was a game of “hot or cold,” I was erring on the lukewarm side.
“Do you remember what Naomi said about communication?” I asked, tucking a wily lock of hair behind her ear.
Bridget looked rather annoyed that I was about to regurgitate what she told me her therapist said.
“Communication only works if we both do it.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I can handle just about anything you throw at me. But the one thing I can’t deal with is you saying you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t lie to me. After everything we’ve been through, I would hope that I’d mean more to you than the need to pretend you’re perfect. I want you to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”