CHAPTER TWENTY
BRIDGETTE LOOKED CUTE as hell sitting at the counter in one of Bodhi’s T-shirts, eating chocolate chip waffles. Her hair was still damp, and she wore the sexy cutoffs she’d had on earlier. She had the hazy look of a contented lover, and he knew he’d remember that look forever.
She finished eating and pushed her plate to the side.
He leaned in for a sticky, syrupy kiss, and she laughed against his lips.
“That, Bridgette Dalton, is one of my favorite things about you.”
“Sticky kisses?”
He kissed her again. “You’re not afraid to laugh when we’re kissing. You’re not afraid to be yourself, or speak your mind, or talk about difficult subjects.” Or make hard decisions. “Bridge, I’m blown away by what you’ve done tonight. This cabin, the waffles . . .” He tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled her closer. “Thank you for not being afraid to let my memories of my father into our lives.”
“A very special man once told me that real love never dies. I think all love should be celebrated.”
He took her left hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. “I agree. Close your eyes for me, baby.”
She closed her eyes and sat up straighter. “What are you doing, Bodhi Booker?”
He took out the silver bracelet he’d had made for her and hooked it around her wrist. He ached even as he filled up with happiness, making the moment bittersweet. “Okay, open your eyes.”
Her eyes searched his first, and he wondered what she could see clearest, the ache or the love. A small smile lifted her lips. Only then did she look at the bracelet. Her brows knitted at the engraving.
“It’s the longitude and latitude of Sweetwater, and the date we first met at the bakery.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Bodhi.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I couldn’t love anything more. It’s perfect, thank you.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got something I’d like you to give to Louie after I leave.” He pulled his dog tags from his pocket and placed them in her hand.
“Bodhi . . . ?”
“It would mean a lot to me for him to have them. You can wait and give them to him when he’s older. Whatever you want.”
“Okay.” A single tear slipped down her cheek, and he embraced her.
“Let’s call Louie and say good night,” he suggested. “The walkie-talkies won’t work this far, and I don’t want him to be bummed. Then we can go outside and take a walk or hang out in the hammock.”
After they called Louie, who was having a marvelous time with Willow, Zane, and Dahlia, Bodhi carried in their bags from the truck, thinking about the call. He’d miss those few minutes of catching up each night. He wondered how his father had done it for all those years. Granted, he hadn’t always been away on tour, but Bodhi remembered him being gone more than he was home.
He set the bags in the bedroom and peeked into the bathroom, where Bridgette was blow-drying her hair. Her hair was so many shades of brown and blonde, even after all this time together he couldn’t come up with the right word for it. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she turned off the hair dryer and set it on the counter, smiling in the mirror at him. “It’s chilly tonight. You’ll need a sweatshirt.”
“Okay.”
He gathered her hair over one shoulder and kissed her neck. “I’ve been trying to figure out a name for the color of your hair, but nothing fits.”
She turned in his arms, her cheeks pink with warmth from the hair dryer, her eyes bright with love. She wrinkled her nose and said, “Boring and confused?”
He nipped at her lower lip, and she squealed.
“Don’t you call my girlfriend’s hair those things.” He kissed the spot he’d nipped. “Your hair is gorgeous. It’s like sand from all the world’s prettiest beaches blended together.”
“That sounds so much better than my choices.” She ran her hands over his chest, and his body heated up again. “Don’t you need a sweatshirt?”
“Hardly. You keep me so turned on, I’m surprised my clothes don’t burn off.”
“Best answer ever. Now get out of here and wait in the living room. I have a surprise for you.”
He held her tighter. “A naughty surprise?”
She laughed. “Maybe later, but for now . . .” She playfully shoved him toward the door. “Go.”
She joined him in the living room a few minutes later, carrying something wrapped in a blanket, wearing his sweatshirt, and smiling like she had won the lottery.
“Ah, a blanket. A perfect surprise to snuggle under on the hammock.”
She pulled the blanket out of his reach. “Your surprise is in the blanket.”
“Maybe once you’re under it, it will be.” He held her close as they went outside. “So now you’re a sweatshirt thief and an eavesdropper?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not even a little.”
Moonlight dusted the area in front of the cabin, providing just enough light to find their way to the hammock strung between two tall trees. He inhaled the scents of pine trees and crisp, mountain air, bringing rise to memories from his youth.
Bridgette set the bundled blanket on the hammock. “Can we skip the walk and hang out here? I just want to be close to you, and I’m excited to give you your gift.”
He lifted her onto the hammock in answer.
“Whoa!” She pressed her hands flat against the canvas as it swayed beneath her. “We need to sit up. How can we do that without flipping this thing?”
He shifted her so she was facing the side of the hammock and climbed up beside her, causing the hammock to dip. With an arm around her, he pulled her against him in the center. “Like that.”
“Is there anything you can’t figure out?”
“I can think of a few things.” Like how to have you and Louie and my career.
Excitement rose in her eyes as she spread the blanket over their legs. “Are you ready?”
“Always.” He leaned in for a kiss, and she gave him her cheek.
“No lips until you see this, because once we start kissing, we never stop. Close your eyes.”
He did, and he felt her place something on his legs. “I like our endless kisses.”
She pressed her lips to his, taking him by surprise, and he held her there, deepening the kiss until she pushed away.
“Wow,” she said breathlessly. “Me, too. Okay, open your eyes.”
He found her watching him. “Lips,” he said sternly, and pulled her in for another kiss. “Thank you, babe.”
“You haven’t even looked at the gift yet.”
“I don’t need to. It’s from you. I’ll love whatever it is.”
She sighed. “You have ruined me for all other men. You’re the perfect mix of manly and romantic. It must be all those romance novels.”
Man, he liked hearing that, which made him a jerk, so he said nothing.
He lowered his gaze to the gift, and lost his breath at the picture of the three of them, taken at the baseball game, set in the center of a leather photo album. Bodhi had one arm around Louie, the other around her. Louie was smiling at the camera, and Bodhi and Bridgette were gazing into each other’s eyes.
He ran his fingers over the edge of the album. His throat was so thick with emotion, he didn’t even try to speak.
“Your mom sent me the pictures she took at the game, and I’ve taken so many, I thought you’d want to have them, too. Open it up.”
He opened the album and was met with a page full of red tulips, a declaration of love. His name was written above them, and below, Bridgette had signed her name.
She tipped her sweet smile up, and he kissed her. “Thank you.”
He looked at pictures of the three of them, each with handwritten notes above or below. There were pictures of Bodhi looking at Louie—I love you for never seeing Louie as an impediment—and Bodhi and Louie walking Dahlia in the city, taken from behind, Bodhi’s hand covering Louie’s on the leash—I love you for teaching Louie how to be a good, careful person. He could still feel Louie’s little hand clinging to the leash beneath his.
He tipped Bridgette’s chin up and pressed his lips to hers again. He flipped the page, gazing at the picture a passerby had taken of them that same afternoon—I love you for your laugh, and your strength, and your generosity. He didn’t know how much more he could take without breaking down. He turned the page, and got his answer with the pictures of Louie and Derek Jeter. Louie looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin—I love you for making Louie’s dreams come true. He warmed all over at more pictures of the three of them at the game—I love you for making these last few weeks feel like forever. On the last page was a picture of Bridgette holding the flowers he’d sent her—I love you for caring enough to let us go, when I know in my heart it’s the last thing you want to do. I will always love you, Bridgette.