Chapter 40 Tempting and Distracting
TEMPTING AND DISTRACTING
RIPLEY
The next night, I go to Bridget’s house to get ready. Haven’s with Tabitha and the publicist doing an interview, and since my house is packed with the crew, I head to my friend’s place a couple miles away.
Bridget’s bungalow has a bright-red door, matching her usual red lipstick. As I knock, Banks gestures to an Adirondack chair on the deck.
“I’ll wait here.” He’s carrying his tablet with a couple of sheets of paper sticking out of the case.
“You can come inside,” I say as Bridget swings open the door.
“Nah. I like it here,” he says.
“You’re not a dog,” Bridget says to him.
“Hey, I’d never leave my dog on the porch,” I protest.
“That’s true. You let Hudson sleep in the bed,” Banks deadpans as he takes the seat.
“Where else would a dog sleep?” Chloe calls from inside.
“Fair point.”
I follow my friends inside, and the second the door snicks shut, Chloe grabs my wrist. “So is this like a date for you and him?”
I scoff. “It’s a girls’ night out. He’s just my bodyguard for the evening.”
But not for much longer.
Bridget snorts, flicking her chestnut waves. “You can drop the act with us. We know he’s not just anything.”
My insides swirl with a giddiness I may never get over. I don’t ever want to. “As a matter of fact, we’re going to see each other when the job ends.”
Chloe holds out a hand toward Bridget, rubbing her thumb against two fingers, the sign for pay up.
Bridget does the same to her. “You pay up.”
“No, you,” Chloe insists.
“You bet on this?” I ask.
“Yes. But we both bet you would get together with him, so we had to bet when you’d tell us. I predicted now,” Bridget says.
“I picked tonight,” Chloe says with a frown.
“Wow. Glad I’m so predictable,” I say as we head to Bridget’s bedroom. “But I do need to tell Haven.” I haven’t yet. She’s been busy every day with the shoot and the publicity.
I guess I also haven’t said anything because I feel the need to protect Banks.
What if Haven accidentally lets it slip in front of Wanda or the other security team members?
I don’t want to get my guy in trouble. Telling Chloe and Bridget is different.
They don’t work with Banks’s co-workers or employees.
There’s time. There will definitely be time.
I focus instead on getting ready, sliding into a pair of jeans and a strappy tank that reveals a hint of my stomach.
Chloe declares it perfect as she wiggles into a purple dress. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfection too.”
Bridget pulls on a pair of vegan leather shorts with a sexy black top and cute little boots.
As we put the finishing touches on our makeup, huddling close together in front of Bridget’s vintage art deco mirror, I turn to Chloe. “So, how’s everything going with the dog training?”
“I started with the Simmons’ Chihuahua, and you know how spicy those dogs are.”
“Spicy dogs need trainers,” I say.
“That’s why I love spicy dogs,” Chloe says.
“And how’s everything at the inn?” I ask Bridget as I slick on lip gloss.
“Overbooked,” she says, cool and unfazed. “But I can handle it. Hey, you should turn Lavender Bliss Farms into an inn too.”
That sounds truly overwhelming. “I’m just happy business is picking up.”
When we’re all ready a little later, we take off, with Bridget and Chloe sliding into a Lyft, and me joining Banks in the truck, since there’s only room for two.
After he shuts my door, he heads to the driver’s side, then eyes me up and down as he clicks on his seat belt. “Gonna be really hard not to have my hands all over you tonight, sweetheart.”
“Then consider it a test of your control,” I tease.
“It will test all of it,” he says. He sets down his tablet and hands me a folded piece of paper. “For your collection.”
I stare at the paper butterfly, and my heart saunters around like a show-off. “Thank you.”
“I knew you liked me,” he says with an easy shrug.
“Oh, shut up and drive,” I say.
He smiles the whole way, and it feels good, like this is the start of the next phase of our unexpected romance.
When we arrive outside Prohibition Spirit, he pulls into the lot next to it, cuts the engine, and then peers into the rearview window behind us.
Satisfied, he returns his focus to me, staring with hungry eyes.
He groans, shaking his head. “You are too tempting.”
I like being tempting to him. So much. “Better work on that resistance.”
“I do, every second I’m with you,” he says.
He comes around to the passenger door and swings it open, offering me a hand. I take it. This is something he’s done before. It’s a normal bodyguard gesture, to offer a hand, but he doesn’t let go right away.
Not when I step down. Not when I look at him. Not at all. He holds my gaze, pinning me with his dark stare, clasping my hand tight—a man whose restraint is fraying razor thin. “Soon, sweetheart. I am going to finish this thought in public so damn soon.”
“I guess I’ll have to be patient.”
“You’re very, very good at it,” he says, looking like it’s the hardest thing in the world to resist me.
Faintly, I register someone walking past us toward the bar entrance. A group of people. Banks blinks, dropping my hand instantly as he turns their way, then looks back, frowning.
“What’s wrong? Do you know them?” I ask, worried.
He squints. “Nothing.” Then he shakes it off. “I can’t get distracted, Ripley. You never know. You just never know.”
This man is still so hard on himself. “You didn’t get distracted though.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “I’d better not.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s forgiven himself, but I’m not sure there was a transgression.
We head inside, and seconds later, Haven arrives with Wanda. Before we know it, we’re swept up into the hum and buzz of Prohibition Spirit, busier than usual and full of locals we know and tourists we don’t. The scales are tipped toward the latter.
Things are changing here, especially since usually this place is a low-key whiskey bar, but tonight Esmeralda has turned up the volume, and she’s playing upbeat pop tunes.
We order champagne and toast to Haven and Darling Springs, then Lavender Bliss and me, then to Chloe and spicy dogs, and to Bridget and putting out fires.
At one point, Banks chats with Esmeralda at the bar, a serious conversation.
Soon, we’re all tipsy, and when a new Amelia Stone song blasts throughout the bar, with Banks and Wanda watching us, we head to a corner and dance.
We all crowd together, singing out loud and moving to the music, and when the chorus hits, my gaze drifts away from my friends once again to a familiar face at the bar.
But it’s not the familiar face I expect.
It’s my ex.
And Eric Patrick is taking our picture.