Chapter 10
brIDGET
Wow. Dash has just left me alone in his house, with his phone on the table.
I was totally fine with giving him my phone, no question.
Now that I've told him my one big secret, my life is an open book.
But he's older, more established. Not that I would ever poke around, but it still feels amazing that he trusts me so much.
Before I stumbled upon Lloyd and his cronies, I was sure that breaking up with Dash was the right thing to do. Yet from the way he behaves, it feels like he wants us to be permanent. Or maybe the full awfulness of my family history hasn't really hit him yet.
That's way too much to think about on an empty stomach.
After putting away the groceries in the most logical places, I make myself a sandwich with a side of carrot sticks. I eat in the living room while watching part of a documentary about the history of whiskey making.
They start going on about the importance of the charred oak barrels that it was aged in. Could wood from the Oakley forest be good for that as well? They go through so much of it I can't imagine barrel makers would pay a fortune, but it's worth looking into.
I hit pause, and automatically grab my phone to take a note. I laugh as I look down at the unfamiliar screen, realizing that it's Dash's phone on the table, not mine. In the process of setting it back down, my thumb hits the surface just as a video call comes in.
Oh, crap.
I can't just hang up on someone. Lifting the phone to eye level, it registers that the name I had seen for a split second was "Mom".
"Hello?"
"Hello." The caller looks at me curiously. "You're certainly not Dash."
I smile, lifting the phone and my chin to create what I hope is a flattering angle. "Hi, I'm Bridget. I'm sorry, Dash isn't here right now. I answered his phone by mistake. May I please take a message, Mrs. Oakley?"
"Just call me Carol." Her eyes are kind but also analytical as she scans my face. "He's mentioned you, Bridget."
My cheeks are already burning. "Really?"
Her smile is polite, but there might be a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Yes."
"Oh. Well, I mean, we've just sort of been hanging out a little bit," I stammer, not sure how to downplay the situation.
She shakes her head, giving me a glimpse of tiny diamond earrings and an elegant necklace. Everything about her is classic and beautiful. "No, dear." Carol lowers her voice and leans in as if we were gossiping together at a café. "Dash has fallen hard for you, Bridget. He's quite taken."
Her head tilts slightly. "Lean toward that lamp, dear. Let me get a good look at you."
I hope my hair is behaving itself as I shift into the light. It's tricky to tell from the tiny preview window. Do I require Carol's approval in order to date her son? By all accounts, she is the head of the family.
She makes a slight ticking noise, shaking her head from side to side, showing perfect teeth as she smiles widely. "My, my. You really are pretty. And musical, apparently. Dash says that you play guitar."
"Just a bit. I mean, I'm learning. I'm getting better."
"You also work at that charming café on the other side of town… Acorns, is it? My friend Gretchen and I have been meaning to drop by there. Apparently their breakfasts are absolutely wonderful."
"They really are. Our new chef, Marco, is an absolute wizard at homestyle breakfast and lunch." I try to hold back a smirk, and fail. "The home fries are incredible, if you're of the mistaken opinion that potatoes are acceptable at breakfast."
Carol rolls her eyes theatrically. "That boy has some strange opinions about food. You'll discover his quirks along the way."
Dash's mother is acting like I'm a real girlfriend. As if this is a done deal. My heart is fluttering from a mix of hope, nervousness and joy.
"Well, I was just calling to check in," she says. "So nice to meet you, Bridget. I hope that Dash will bring you by soon, hopefully for dinner." Her eyes sparkle naughtily. "Or I'll invite Gretchen instead of Dash, and us girls can just have cocktails and get to know each other."
"Wonderful. I'll tell Dash you called."
"Toodles!"
Dropping the phone back on the table, my head is spinning. I was positive that Dash would run for the hills as soon as he found out about my family situation, and my jailbird father. That doesn't seem to be the case.
As soon as I hear Dash's truck in the driveway, I jump up, fluffing my hair and straightening my shirt. This feels like an important moment, even though any idea what to say has fallen out of my head and rolled under the couch to play with the dust bunnies.
"Your Mom just called. I didn't mean to answer it, sorry."
His grin is pure joy. "No problem. What did she have to say?"
"Just calling to say hello." He walks me backwards into the living room, hands snug around my waist. "She said you already mentioned me."
"Yeah. She was trying to suggest potential lady friends for me last time we talked, and I told her that I was already totally smitten with someone." He lifts me onto the couch, sitting close.
"Smitten?"
"Yup. I'm in deep smit. Ensmittenated."
"I don't think that's a word," I giggle.
"It will be when we write it into a country song."
"You're totally nuts."
He shrugs. "Maybe. They say being the youngest makes people weird." Glancing at my empty plate, he asks, "Did you have enough?"
"Yes, thanks. Should I make some sandwiches for you and Corbin?"
A warm hand slips around my back. "I grabbed a bite earlier. Corbin is crashing with Mom tonight, and going back to his house tomorrow. Oh, he's already on board with securing your house."
"Wow. So that means…" It feels like he's already made a decision. "You really don't care that I have a father in prison? You want to stay with me anyway?"
"Baby, could you honestly think I'd ever consider leaving?" His palm in the center of my back is so comforting. "We're together, Bridget. For as long as you want me. Whatever your father did has nothing to do with you."
Pulling my body against his, our lips crash together in a ferocious kiss. In seconds he has me pinned underneath him, nuzzling my throat. The total satisfaction of being surrounded by his huge frame does things to me that I can't explain. Every touch feels so perfect.
His head lifts to gaze into my eyes. "You're mine, baby. If you want to leave me, just say the words. But don't ever think for even one heartbeat that I would leave you. Not for your shifty father, not for my asshole uncle, not for anyone."
His hands are already under my shirt, caressing my stomach, my sides, my breasts. I cannot get over how he seems to worship every inch of my body. "I need you, Bridget. You're my sweet baby."
My mouth opens, yet only fluttery, ragged breath escapes.
"I love you, Bridget. I think I've known from the first second you sort of glared at me in the rain that there was a spark between us."
The world stops. The clock in the dining room ticks and Dash's elbow makes the couch creak a bit as I stare into his warm brown eyes.
"I love you, too." I've never been so sure of anything.
The relief that washes across his face almost makes me tear up. Then he kisses me again, both of us giving in to the lust that ramps up immediately.
He sighs as my palm slips up his back, then he blocks my hands. "I'm still all sweaty from work. Let me take a quick shower first, then I need to taste you. Okay?"
The way he says 'need' instead of 'want' sends shivers up my spine.
We sit up, his arm still around me as he brushes the hair from my face. "What's that look for?"
It was time to be brave. I want to be comfortable with him, naked, with no covers, in the bright lights of the bathroom. I know I can be myself around Dash. "Um, I was wondering. Could I help?"
"You want to help me shower?"
"Yes."
His eyes light up. "That's my girl." Grabbing my hand, he leads me upstairs, straight into the small blue room with white tiles. I pull an elastic from my pocket, quickly tying up my hair in a messy bun.
Dash unbuttons my shirt, grunting to himself like a caveman. "Tiny buttons no work with lumberjack hands." Once he drapes it over the towel rack, he grumbles, "And pretty bras keep the sexy boobs away from me. Grr."
I love that he's being silly to stop me from feeling self-conscious. Yet another caring gesture. Once I'm naked, I reach out to pull off his t-shirt. He reaches over to start the shower, dropping his pants.
"I really do need a few seconds," he grins, stepping in. Ogling him through the glass shower door as he runs a bar of soap around his sculpted body, I feel my nipples tighten.
Damn. That unbelievably beautiful creature is mine.
Stepping in behind him, my hands run up his slick back, then I massage his shoulders for a moment. "Mmm, that feels amazing. You're hired."
"You need a personal masseuse?" I laugh.
He turns, and I gasp at how hard he is. His thick cock looks even bigger in this bright light. "I need you." He pulls me under the hot water jets, already taking control.
It's dreamlike – the heat, the steam, the way his hands are everywhere at once. His thick fingers between my legs are urgent, spreading me, opening me, making sure that I'm ready for him. "I need you to climb me like a tree," Dash grins, squeezing my behind firmly as he pulls me against him.
"Um, there are a lot of heart wrenching country songs we could write, but the two of us perishing in a freak shower accident is not one of them."
My laugh turns to a gasp when two wet fingers glide inside me. He bends down slightly so that my arms can circle his neck, breasts pressing against his chest as my nipples ache with desire. I can't silence my slight whine as he removes his fingers.
"When I lift you, wrap your legs around me."