“No, Gray.”
Bridgette startled awake, the distinctly male voice rousing her from sleep. She blinked, trying to clear the hazy images, before freezing. Memories of the previous night slammed into her, making her acutely aware that, not only had she told Sam everything, she’d agreed to cuddle with him on the couch—the same one she was still curled next to him on, with her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder while half of her body splayed across his. He had one arm wrapped around her back, and the other resting across his hip with his hand palming her waist.
She cringed inwardly. She was practically sleeping on top of the guy. And not just any guy—Sam-freaking-Montgomery. She hadn’t been lying to her father. Sam was the only man who’d ever truly broken her heart, and who she’d wanted to stab through his on more than one occasion—make him feel even a fraction of the pain she’d felt when he’d left. When she’d thought he’d cheated on her.
Brock had never gotten to her like that. Sure, she’d fantasized about killing the bastard. But that was different. And she’d never loved him the way she had Sam. In fact, she’d never really loved anyone other than Sam. And it seemed she hadn’t crushed that desire nearly as much as she’d thought.
She looked up at him as he twitched in his sleep. While she’d already been on her way to burying the past, learning the truth about it had shifted something inside her. Whether it had opened a door or closed one, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he was the first person she’d trusted since she’d woken up in the hospital. And that lying in his arms all night had been more intimate than any sexual encounter she’d had in the past several years.
He whispered something she couldn’t make out, grunting as if he’d been hurt. Bridgette shifted slightly, rubbing her hand on his chest in the hopes of calming him down without waking him. Sam called Gray’s name, again, then settled, tightening his hold on her.
She inhaled, waiting for the panic that usually followed any kind of firm physical contact, but the telltale flash of sweat didn’t bead her skin or slither down her spine. All his embrace did was make her feel safe. She frowned. She wanted to offer him the same sense of peace he’d given her, but she still didn’t know what ghosts haunted him. Who Gray was or why Sam felt guilty over whatever had happened. And she knew he felt guilty. He had the same tightness around his eyes, the same uneasy smile she’d been faking since that night with Brock. She just didn’t know how to break through to Sam—convince him she could be his safe place to fall.
Bridgette groaned inwardly. Obviously, the stress of the upcoming trial and the threats she’d been receiving were getting to her. She wasn’t anyone’s “safe place to fall”, least of all Sam’s. He wasn’t looking to reconnect with her. He’d simply been doing his job and being a decent human being—proof that such a thing still existed. Getting her to talk about Brock had been a means to an end—a way to garner the information Sam had been worried about. And holding her all night had simplified his job. Stopped her from screaming awake and giving him a chance to sleep, too. It didn’t mean anything else, and she needed to get any other idea out of her head. He’d be gone the moment the trial started, or they caught the creep.
Of course, her next case would likely start the cycle all over, again. More photos. More violent threats left on her cell. More days and nights spent looking over her shoulder. Just more emptiness.
Part of the job, she reminded herself. If she was going to seek this level of justice, she had to make peace with the ugly parts that accompanied it. The ones that hadn’t seemed to bother her that much until Sam had shown up and made her feel…
She shook her head, stopping that train of thought. She prided herself in not feeling much of anything, other than her desire to win. That’s how she kept her life uncluttered. Feeling led falling, which led to trusting that person never to hurt you. And that was one lesson she didn’t need to learn twice. Simple, non-committal encounters were the only way she’d stay safe. Stay sane. Not everyone’s happily ever after included a partner—a life outside of work. Hers would be found in the courtroom, putting men like Brock behind bars for the rest of their lives.
Sam groaned in his sleep, repositioning himself until he had her pressed tightly against him, his one hand slipping up from her waist to settle in the middle of her back. He smiled, dropping a kiss on her forehead before drifting off. The brief contact burned its way to her core, making her acutely aware of every inch of the man beneath her, including the hard ridge pressed against her thigh.
God, she remembered how large he’d been. How he’d taken his time, brought her orgasm multiple times before finally trying to slide inside her. Even then, their first time had been a fine line between pleasure and pain. But after that… She hadn’t been with another guy, yet, who’d been able to set her off like Sam had. Who’d been as invested in her pleasure as much as their own. And she doubted she ever would.
Bridgette sighed, relaxing against him, again. Now wasn’t the time to think about sex, especially when she wouldn’t be in a position to have any for the foreseeable future. Even then, it would most likely be another empty encounter. Another failed attempt at pretending she was fine. That Brock hadn’t broken her beyond repair. That he hadn’t won despite what she’d told Sam the night before.
She closed her eyes, wondering if she’d be able to fall back to sleep with a thousand questions tumbling around in her head, only to wake when Sam moved. She blinked, again, this time, squinting at the sun filtering through the windows. Large square shadows covered the floor off to their left, suggesting they’d slept later than usual.
Sam sighed when she glanced up at him. “Sorry, Bridg. I was trying not to wake you.”
She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, giving him room to move out from under her. “It’s okay. Looks like it’s already late. I never sleep in.”
His smile made her stomach flutter. “Maybe that’s your problem. You never let yourself shut down long enough to properly recharge. You can’t keep pushing forward when you’ve got nothing in the tank. When’s the last time you took a vacation?”
She laughed. “Vacation. Right. Good one.”
“I’m serious. You obviously get time off. Surely, you’ve taken advantage of that, even if it was just chilling in your apartment.”
“I spent six years in school, working my ass off to get the highest GPA I could, then went straight to work as a public defender. Taking time off wouldn’t have gotten me a shot at the US Attorney’s office before the age of thirty. I had to earn that, and earning it meant working eighty-hour weeks, every week. Even now, it’s a constant balancing act between work and breathing. I don’t want to give them a reason to think they made a mistake when they took a chance on me.”
Sam stared at her. “Taking time to ensure you stay physically and mentally sane isn’t showing weakness. It’s called being human.”
“You say that as if you think I’m missing out on something.”
“You are. Christ, even I’ve taken furloughs. Gone to Vegas or spent a week in Paris. Something other than a tent and endless desert landscape.”
“That’s different. You risked your life every day. You deserved some time to quiet all of that.”
“And you don’t? Just because you don’t carry a gun doesn’t mean you don’t take risks. Why do you think I’m here?”
“Because my father is overprotective.” She sighed at his huff of frustration. “Fine. I’m here, now. I can count this as my vacation.”
“It’s not a vacation when you spend twelve hours a day in your office working. A vacation means you don’t do work. Period.”
“If I don’t work, all those cases—”
“Will still be there in a few days. They aren’t going anywhere. I know people depend on your assessment of whether a charge is viable or not. Whether they’ve done their job well enough to have you prosecute. But a few days, here and there won’t change that outcome.” He knelt in front of her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You need to take better care of yourself. And I don’t mean working out more hours a day. I mean you.” He tapped her chest. “In here. And inside that pretty head of yours. You need to have fun.”
She pushed down the traitorous leap of her heart when his finger brushed against her before falling back to his side. God, one innocent touch, and she felt wired.
He arched a brow. “What’s wrong, Counselor? Afraid you might actually discover you can have a life outside the courtroom?”
“I’m not afraid. I already know that isn’t how my future plays out.”
“Then, you won’t mind me trying to prove you wrong. How about a bet?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A bet?”
“You give me one day—today—and if, by the end of it, you haven’t had any fun—if you still think it’s a waste of your time—I won’t bring the subject up, again.”
“So, I’m just supposed to not work? At all?”
“It’s Saturday. No one’s working.”
“You are.”
He chuckled. “Damn, there’s just no reasoning with you, is there? And I’ll have you know that I had a week off between this assignment and my last one. I spent it in Eagle Rock, helping out at a friend’s ranch. Communing with Mother Nature, you could say.”
“You helped out at a ranch? Do you even know how to ride a horse?”
“Of course I do, but you’re missing the point.”
“Okay. Say I take this bet. What happens if you do win? If you magically make me see the light?”
“Then, you give me tomorrow, as well.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Two days off. In a row. That’s madness. But…I’ll take that bet, because seeing as we’re prisoners in here, I don’t see how there’s much fun to be had.”
“I never said we couldn’t go out. We just have to do it responsibly. Though, I can work my magic, as you called it, right here.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I love the underlying tone of disbelief. You’re going to have to eat crow tonight. Okay, first off, breakfast. And I’ll cook. You can freshen up and put on comfortable clothes. Nothing fancy and nothing you wouldn’t want to get dirty.”
“Dirty?”
He smiled, tumbling her stomach, again. “Not knowing is half the fun. Go on. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready. But don’t keep me waiting.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes then headed for the stairs. She washed up, deciding to shower after they’d done whatever might get her dirty, then made her way back downstairs. She smiled as she walked into the kitchen, laughing at Sam’s ensemble. “You know, that apron matches your eyes.”
He grinned. It had the same effect as earlier and made her wish she’d eaten, first, so she wouldn’t have to mix food with the butterflies rioting in her stomach. “I was worried you wouldn’t notice. Hungry?”
Her stomach growled, betraying the lie she’d been about to pass off.
Sam chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. I noticed you’re pretty much a vegetarian, but figured since you had eggs, they weren’t taboo or something.”
“Not taboo.” She inhaled as he set down a plate in front of her. “Jesus, if that omelet tastes half as good as it smells, I might hire you as my cook.”
“Sorry, darling. I only hire myself out as a bodyguard of sorts. The omelet’s just gravy.”
“Special treatment. I like the sound of that.” She took a bite, moaning at the mix of tomato, cheese and egg. “Oh, my god. This is…”
“Pretty damn good?”
“Way better than that. Almost as good as chocolate. Thank you.”
Sam arched a brow as he set a mug of coffee in front of her then took his seat. “Don’t women equate chocolate to sex or something?” He grinned smugly. “Are you saying my cooking is as good as sex?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Oh, but I think it is. Which means you haven’t been getting anything decent in a while.”
She glared at him. “How do you go from charming cook to asshole bodyguard so quickly? Is it a gift?”
“I think you like the touch of asshole in me. It reminds you that you’re the only woman in this relationship.”
Her breathing hitched at his choice of words. Though she was sure he’d meant their business relationship, a part of her reveled in the thought of something personal. Something dangerously intimate.
She wet her bottom lip, staring for a moment as he followed the path of her tongue before dragging his gaze up to her eyes. “Are you suggesting women can’t be assholes?”
“How often do you describe a woman that way?”
“Well, I guess, never, but—”
“Point and match.”
“Is everything we do today going to be a competition?”
He laughed—hard. “Oh, Bridg. You even said that with a straight face.”
“What?”
“You mean besides the fact that you’re the most competitive woman I know? Actually, I’ll amend that. You’re the most competitive person I know outside of my old Ranger squad. Thinking you missed your true calling. You should have signed up for JAG.”
“The Judge Advocate General? Seriously? Do you really see me as someone who’d be happy following all those rules?”
If it was possible, Sam laughed even harder, a few tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes as he grabbed his stomach. “Stop, please. God, it hurts.”
“Not funny, Sam.”
He wiped away the moisture, doing his best to calm down. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. It’s just…are we talking about you or someone else? Because, not only are you competitive, you’re the strictest person I know. Your entire life is rules. What’s admissible in court. What clothes to wear for each phase of your trial. Hell, what constitutes a safe fuck for you. It’s nothing but rules.”
“I don’t recall telling you anything about the guys I fuck.”
“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. You already told me your friends are mostly lawyers, cops, and feds. All of which are safer choices for no-strings encounters. That, along with other bits of conversation and how you reacted last night, tells me everything you won’t.”
Pain tightened her chest as she put down her fork and stood. “You make me sound cold. But I’m not. I’m careful. If that makes me distant and a rule-follower, then so be it.”
Sam shot to his feet, stopping her from walking off. “Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you. And I don’t think you’re cold. I think you’re scared. Afraid to trust anyone because of one asshole. Though, based on what he did, I don’t blame you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “This isn’t going quite how I’d envisioned. Please, sit down. Eat. I’ll try to be more of the charming cook and less of the asshole bodyguard.”
She glanced at the food. She’d barely eaten any of it, despite the gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach. But sitting there made her feel on display. As if he was constantly judging her, or at least her reactions.
Sam moved closer. “I’m sorry, Bridgette. Really sorry. I have a bad habit of not thinking shit through before saying it. Something I haven’t lost from my time in the service. Being around mostly men twenty-four seven has obviously done a number on my manners.”
He didn’t move until she’d allowed him to help her back into her seat. Even then, he looked as if he was ready to pounce across the table at a moment’s notice. She did her best to let the conversation go, focusing on eating. But what had been delicious before felt like rock in her gut.
After another fifteen minutes of agonizing silence, she grabbed her plate and moved over to the sink. She emptied any leftovers then put the dish in the dishwasher. Sam followed her, putting the rest of the dirty dishes next to hers. She spun, expecting him to step aside, but he just stood there, extremely close as he stared at her.
She shifted under his intense gaze, finally palming her hips. “Is there something in my teeth?”
The skin over his nose bunched. “No. Why?”
“Because you’re staring at me as if I’ve sprouted an extra ear or something.”
He sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not still mad. I mean, I’m sure you are, but I wanted to gauge how mad you still were.”
She snorted. “Are you going to talk in riddle speak all day? I’m fine. Besides, from where I’m standing, I’m already winning.”
A hint of a smile twitched his lips. “Fair. But you won’t be after our next round.”
“Round? So, this is like a boxing match, now?”
“Yup. And I’m coming out swinging. Are you ready to start your slow descent into the loser’s corner?”
Some of the tension eased, and she cursed that he knew her so well. That he was able to get her to live in the moment better than anyone else she’d known. Or maybe she just had a hard time staying mad at him when he’d spent the night holding her. Keeping her demons at bay with nothing more than his arms around her.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Fine. What’s this amazing combination you think will edge the points in your direction?”
“Simple. We’re going to play a game.”
She laughed, this time. “A game? Like what? Red Rover?”
“Close, but not quite. Hide and seek.”
Her mouth gaped open before she could keep it snapped shut. Surely, she’d heard him wrong. “Did you just say, hide and seek?”
He maneuvered closer, heating the air around her until she found it hard to breathe. “What’s wrong? Have you forgotten how to play?”
She swallowed, coughing at the dry rasp in her throat. She hadn’t forgotten. In fact, she’d played a deadly version of it a couple weeks ago. “I know how to play. It’s just…”
“Just what? Afraid I’ll find you, but you won’t find me?”
The smug tone ignited the competitive side of her Sam was all too right about. And, after surviving against an armed assailant, this should be tame in comparison. “Fine. Hide and seek, it is.”
“I’ll count, first. You hide. There’s only one rule.” He leaned in even closer. “You have to stay in the house. Deal?”
“Oh, baby. I don’t need to cheat to win. I hope you ate enough because you’re going to spend the next hour looking for me.”
“We’ll see. Now, go. I’m already counting in my head.”