CHAPTER THREE
“I HAVE A sleepover tomorrow night!” Louie announced Thursday morning when they arrived at the bakery. The Secret Garden adjoined Willow’s bakery, Sweetie Pie. Most mornings Bridgette and at least a few of her siblings met at the bakery before work, and Roxie picked up Louie there each morning.
Piper sat on a counter eating what was probably her third doughnut. It was a wonder she still fit into her size 2 jeans, the way she scarfed down goodies. Willow was wrist deep kneading dough, her blonde hair tied back in a thick braid that hung nearly to her waist.
“A sleepover?” Roxie said. “How fun.”
“Uh-huh,” Louie agreed. “Mom said I can have a blueberry scone today, Auntie Willow.”
Willow flashed a curious smile at Bridgette. “Mommy did, did she? A scone. Interesting.” For as long as Willow had been baking, she’d connected people with baked goods. She’d even created a special dessert named after Zane, before he’d become her fiancé. Loverboys. The perfect mix of pleasurable, memorable, and guilt inducing.
Today Bridgette understood why her sister made those connections. Bodhi was a definite scone. Hard on the outside and probably scrumptious on the inside.
“Scone.” Piper shook her head. “I haven’t needed a scone in forever. But coupling a scone and a child-free Friday night? That might be interesting.”
“Hold your tongue until little ears leave, please.” Bridgette put a scone and a handful of napkins in a bag, handed them to Louie, and gave him a hug and kiss. “I won’t be late tonight. Promise.”
Piper slid off the counter in front of Louie and pointed to her cheek. “Plant one on Auntie Piper.”
Louie giggled as he kissed her.
“Thanks, cutie-pop.” Piper hoisted herself back up on the counter.
“Come on, little man,” Roxie said. “We’ll eat that in the car, and if you’re good, after our deliveries we’ll go to the park.” Her mother loved taking Louie with her to deliver her products to the local retailers who sold them. They’d fawned over him from the time he was a baby. On the way out the door, Roxie looked over her shoulder and said, “Scone? I was sure my oils would at least make this a cinnamon bun morning! I’ll have to try harder.”
Bridgette groaned and grabbed a hard-crusted pastry, chomping into it as the door closed behind them.
Willow set the dough she was kneading in a pan and washed her hands, drying them on a towel she pulled from the back pocket of her cutoffs. “What did I miss?”
“Rough night with Mr. Muscles?” Piper asked.
Bridgette paced. “Why does everyone think my moods suddenly revolve around him?”
Bridgette and Piper exchanged a knowing smile.
“Maybe because he’s been the only thing to ruffle your feathers in the last few years besides a certain mini-man’s terrible twos.” Piper took another bite of her doughnut. “And that wasn’t the same kind of ruffling.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes.
“Am I wrong?” Piper grabbed the towel from Willow and snapped it at Bridgette.
“No, but it’s annoying. I’m not looking to get involved with anyone. My life is crazy enough right now. But I look at him and I turn into this . . .”
“Horndog?” Willow suggested.
“Sex kitten?” Piper added.
“Why isn’t Talia here when I need her? She’d say something like curious woman.” Talia, her most reserved sister, was a professor at a nearby college and always had the tamest outlook and suggestions. But she rarely had time to join them before work.
With a heavy sigh, Bridgette relented. “Fine. Yes to Willow. No to Piper. I’m anything but a sex kitten, and it wouldn’t matter if I were. Some gorgeous blonde spent the night at his house last night after I made a complete ass out of myself.” She fessed up to their grocery and towel fiascoes. “I was perfectly fine before he walked his big, sexy ass into this bakery and opened some long-forgotten door or something. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”
“What’s wrong with you,” Piper said as she hopped off the counter, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, “is that you are finally back in the game. You want to play his skin flute! Chomp his cock rocket! Let him bang the bouquet!”
Laughing, Bridgette held her hands up. “Stop already. No! Maybe. I don’t know. You guys are such bad influences.”
“It’s been years since you’ve been with a man, Bridge,” Willow reminded her. “We’re realistic influences.”
“I’m personally a little worried,” Piper said with a serious tone. “If you don’t use that coochie, who knows what could happen. It could dry up. Close up. Fall out. Grow teeth.”
“You’re a freak.” Bridgette laughed. “People abstain all the time. And did you not hear me say a gorgeous blonde slept at his house?”
“Since when have you been afraid of competition?” Willow asked.
“It’s not a competition. I’m not that reckless anymore. I have Louie to consider, and besides, I don’t know this guy from Adam!”
“Then why are we sconing?” Willow set the tray in the oven.
“Because!” Bridgette huffed. “I don’t know! I’ve never had trouble having a conversation with a man. And this rugged, stoic, hot-ass guy says two words to me and I ask him if he wants to eat me?” She threw her hands up in the air.
Piper and Willow burst into laughter.
“And the blonde?” Bridgette said. “Seriously, you guys? How can I be jealous over a guy I’ve barely spoken to? A guy who probably has more women at his beck and call than any man ever should? What is that?”
“Lust, baby!” Piper exclaimed. “The most amazing feeling in the world.”
“What part of ‘I’m a mother’ do you not understand?” Bridgette leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “I can’t be lusting after my neighbor.” Or anyone else, for that matter. But if she said that, her sisters would push even harder, and she didn’t really believe it. She was still a woman, even if she was a mother and a widow. There was nothing wrong with being interested in a man, even if it scared her. But a neighbor? That opened the door for too many complications if things went bad.
“I have a little boy who needs me to be sane, rational, and stable,” she said with an air of confidence.
“And well fucked,” Piper added.
“Piper!” Bridgette glared at her. “That’s not helping.”
Willow moved in front of Bridgette with a serious expression. “Bridge. You’re not a nineteen-year-old kid anymore, and you’re the best mother I know.”
“Don’t let Mom hear that,” Piper chimed in.
“Seriously.” Willow’s eyes never left Bridgette’s. “I know we’ve been pushing you to date, but now it’s not us. It’s your own body, your own mind, telling you what you want. That means something.”
“Yeah, that I’m an idiot. Gorgeous blonde, remember?” She began pacing again. “I know what I have to do. My brain just got a little sidetracked and hung up on the chase or something. It’s been a long time, and just because I’m attracted to him doesn’t mean I must have him. I need to focus on work and Louie, get back to being responsible, take charge, and forget the foolishness.”
“Take charge. That’s one way to play him,” Piper said. “Guys like confidence.”
“Not that way,” Bridgette said. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll read any guy I want to sleep with the riot act and scare him off anyway.”
“You’re probably right,” Piper agreed. “You’re better off without a quick roll in the hay with this guy. Because I would have to give him a piece of my mind, and the last time I did that, Willow got engaged. That’s not what you need in your life. You’re definitely better off with a battery-operated boyfriend.”
“Exactly,” Bridgette said. “Wait. What?”
“Did you just take credit for my engagement?” Willow asked.
Piper grabbed another doughnut and headed for the door. “Just stating a fact. Later, girls.”
“I better get to work, too,” Bridgette said, and walked out of the kitchen and into the bakery, heading for her shop. She wanted to surprise Louie tonight by doing something fun with him, which should also help distract her from her neighbor and his Jeep girl.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Willow asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, thanks. I know what I have to do, and if I’m going to get out of work on time, I need to get started.” She unhooked the chain hanging across the archway between the two businesses with the hand-painted sign that read, WE’RE BUSY PLANTING SECRETS. PLEASE COME BACK TOMORROW, and threw herself into work, hoping to forget the man who had gotten under her skin.
AFTER PAINTING THE two upstairs bedrooms and installing a new sink in the bathroom, Bodhi went for a run. In addition to working on the house, he was still learning his way around town, and he enjoyed his late-afternoon workouts. He’d first heard about Sweetwater through his friend Aurelia, who worked at his favorite bookstore in the city. She was also the one who had turned him on to romance novels a few years ago. She’d told him about a series set in a small town that had reminded her of Sweetwater, her hometown. A quick Google search painted Sweetwater as a charming small town built at the foothills of the Silver Mountains, with cobblestone streets, old-fashioned storefronts, and seasonal festivals held around Sugar Lake. After visiting the area with his mother, they’d agreed the quaint small town would be an ideal location in which she could eventually retire. He’d purchased the home a month later.
He jogged down the sidewalk toward the lake. Having grown up in the city, waking to glorious views of the mountains and Sugar Lake was a welcome change. He turned onto Main Street, running parallel to the lake and fairgrounds. A banner announcing the upcoming Peach Festival was strung over the road. The bakery came into view, and he wondered if Bridgette was working. Shirtless and sweaty was probably not their preferred state of dress, so he peered through the window.
“Checking out my sister?”
Bodhi snapped to attention at the sound of Bridgette’s voice, and holy hell was she beautiful in an off-the-shoulder white blouse and jeans that fit like a second skin. She was holding a potted plant and looking at him like he was a Peeping Tom, which bugged the hell out of him.
“I wasn’t checking out your . . . Wait. Your sister? You both work at the bakery?”
Her lips curved up in a smirky smile. “Let’s circle back to you peering through the window at Willow. I’m pretty sure your overnight guest wouldn’t like knowing her man was checking out the hot blonde in the bakery.”
“Christ,” he uttered and wiped the sweat from his brow. Maybe it was safer if she thought he was a pig who had slept with Shira and then checked out her sister. But she was pushing all his buttons, and he couldn’t resist pushing hers right back. He closed the distance between them, taking immense pleasure in the morphing of her smirk into a much hungrier expression.
She tightened her grip on the planter, her eyes drifting down his bare torso.
Oh yeah, this was torture all right.
She squared her shoulders, and her gaze darted up to his, as if she’d caught herself staring.
“Let’s start over.” The dead-calm tone he used when commanding his team came out of habit. “Hello, Bridgette. Do you and . . . Willow . . . both work at the bakery?”
“Hello, Bodhi,” she said with an impressive amount of snark. She lifted her chin, glowering at him. “Willow owns the bakery, and I own the flower shop. But you’re out of luck. She’s engaged.”
He clenched his jaw, lifted the planter from her hands, and set it on the ground, allowing him to step closer and invade her personal space. This pretty little filly was going to learn not to doubt his word. “I said I wasn’t checking her out, and I only say what I mean.”
“Then that makes two of us,” she said sharply.
He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”
She crossed her arms, tipping her chin higher. She was a sexy little thing, a solid nine or ten inches shorter than he was, with confidence he admired. Confidence that turned him on. He had the urge to lift her up until they were eye to eye and take the kiss he’d been dreaming about. And then some . . .
“Always,” she said without as much as a single blink.
“I’ll remember that next time I’m in my towel and you ask if I want to eat—”
“Oh God! No!” She whipped her head from side to side, as if she were afraid someone might have heard him.
He chuckled and leaned in closer, inhaling the enticing scent of sinfully sexy Bridgette caught off guard, and said, “Now I know where to find you.”
Casually picking up the planter, he handed it to her. “Pretty soon it’ll be too cool for the peace lilies to be outdoors.”
Surprise registered in her eyes.
“See you around, neighbor.” He jogged across the street to finish his run along the lake and hopefully burn off the heat coursing through his veins.
Six miles, one long-ass gym workout, and a cold shower later, he still had Bridgette on his mind. He walked up the stone path to her front door later that evening, wrestling with knocking and leaving the bag of groceries he’d bought her on the porch like a kid pulling a prank. That would be a hell of a lot safer than coming face-to-face with the woman who laced his every thought. But he’d been raised to do the right thing. At least that was what he told himself as he knocked.
“Who is it?” she called from behind the closed door.
No peephole? Earlier in the week he’d noticed a missing board on Louie’s playset. If there was a man in her life, he needed to be more attentive to those sorts of things.
“Booker.” He winced. Once military, always military. “Bodhi. I brought you groceries.”
“Bodhi? Um. Can you open the door, please? My hands are sticky.”
He tried to ignore the sexy images that brought to mind and pushed the door open. Bridgette’s hands were covered in lumpy green slime, and there were pieces of it on her T-shirt and hot little shorts, her forearms, cheek, and one bare thigh. Why on earth was that so sexy?
“Hi,” she said shyly.
That shyness was new, and frigging adorable. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to replace the groceries Dahlia ruined.”
“Mom!” Louie called from down the hall.
“Coming, baby,” she called to Louie.
He’d noticed how often she played with Louie in the yard, and seeing her all slimed up warmed him inside. In the city he rarely saw women doing anything with their children other than catching cabs, dragging them in and out of stores, and eating at restaurants. Maybe that was just the difference between small-town and city life, or maybe it was that he’d never paid close attention to any woman until now.
“Sorry.” She flashed that killer smile again. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
Not knowing how to answer that other than I wanted to, he shrugged. “Want me to set them in your kitchen?”
“Would you mind?”
He followed her down the center hall, trying not to watch the seductive sway of her hips. When had he become such a letch? He turned his attention to the pictures hanging on the wall, slowing to get a better look. The first appeared to be a preschool photo of Louie, with a forced toothy grin. The next was Louie as an adorable toddler sitting in the grass, and the third, as an infant, cradled in his mother’s arms. The pit of Bodhi’s stomach sank as he took in the rest of the picture. Bridgette was snuggled up against a handsome, longish-haired guy who looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place him. That didn’t matter. There was a man in her life, and he had no business being in her house.
“You can set them on the counter,” Bridgette said.
“Bodhi! Want to play slime with us? We made it.” Louie beamed proudly, stretching the gooey, lumpy slime into a stringy mess.
“Hey, little dude. I’d better not.”
“What’s the matter?” Bridgette walked toward him wiggling her green fingers. “Afraid of a little slime?”
Afraid of wanting to kiss another man’s woman. “No, I’ve got to . . . uh . . . take Dahlia for a walk.”
“I want to walk Dahlia!” Louie yelled.
“No,” came out too fast. He quickly added, “You’re busy with your mom. Maybe you can walk her another time.” He started to leave, and turned back, unable to leave unsafe stones in their path. “You should have your husband put a peephole in that door, for safety. And Louie’s playset is missing a slat. He’s probably got it on his honey-do list, but I thought I’d mention it.” Honey-do list? Ramble much? Get out of here.
Bridgette pressed her lips together, a haunted expression descending over her face, and just as quickly it disappeared. “It’s just me and Louie,” she said in a small voice that made him want to hold her. “But I can get my dad or my sister to fix those things.”
Interest piqued, Bodhi debated playing with the slime after all. But he’d already used Dahlia as an excuse to leave.
“What’s a honey-do list?” Louie asked.
“Just a list of things to do around the house,” Bridgette answered.
“Bodhi can help us!” Louie blinked big, hopeful eyes in his direction. “I could help, too. We saw you fixing your back door. Remember, Mom? You were watching him that day when you kept forgetting to throw me the ball?”
Interesting . . .
Her cheeks flushed, and something inside him switched on. He wanted to help them, to make sure they were safe. But trying to keep his emotional distance felt more dangerous than stealthily invading other countries. That was a battle he wasn’t sure he could handle.
“I think Bodhi has enough on his hands right now,” Bridgette said.
If he opened his mouth to speak, he’d tell her she was wrong. He could handle the work on his mother’s house and Bridgette’s repairs, and still make love to every inch of her body all night long.
He. Was. Screwed.
With a reluctant nod of agreement, he left the way he’d come. Wanting Bridgette Dalton.