by Ava Harrison
His words strike me. After everything that transpired between the two of us in the alley, I would have been inclined to agree at one time, but something tells me not to judge this broken man. There’s something dark and haunting about him. What’s happened to you?
“You’re not a bad person, Grant.”
At the sound of his name, his eyes lift to mine. “You give me too much credit, Bridget. You’re too good for me.”
“No. I’ve done bad things too. We all do. It’s what makes us human. It’s what you do with your life after the mistakes that make you good or bad.”
“How so?”
“Did you learn from your past? Have you atoned? If not, will you?”
“I haven’t done anything but wallow in self-pity and regret. I’ve let time slip through my fingers and I can’t get it back.” He shakes his head. “It’s too late for me.”
“It’s never too late, Grant. You have time to change and make things right. You’re a better person than you’re giving yourself credit for. I know you are.”
“You make me want to be better, Bridget.”
For the first time throughout this conversation, he smiles and it’s a beautiful thing.
“Grant, I . . .”
He moves in close. Too close. “I like my name on your tongue.”
Heat spreads through me at his words. Our shared kiss floods my mind, leaving me warm and tingly all over. Too close.
He extends his hand, palm cupping my cheek affectionately. “What am I going to do with you?” he says huskily.
I sigh into his touch. It feels . . . right.
Our eyes lock in a heated gaze, far too inappropriate to be occurring in his office with the door open, but I couldn’t care less. His touch feels wonderful and I’m reveling in it. Without another thought, I reach up on my tiptoes and bring my lips to his. He pulls me the rest of the way in, smashing our bodies together. His mouth opens, allowing my tongue to enter and meet his. We stand in the middle of his office, lip-locked and embracing, not caring who sees. As much as I want to push this further, I know I can’t.
Pulling away, I try to catch my breath. Grant’s forehead rests against mine. “I can’t infect you with the poison that is my life, Bridget. No matter how fucking hard it’s been to stay at arm’s length, I have to.” He frowns, grabbing my shoulders to keep me in place. “I have to, Bridget,” he huffs. “I have to.”
“Why?”
“My life with Chelsea is complicated, and you’d be smart to keep your distance.”
“What if I don’t want to?” My eyes pierce his. I want him to see how little I care about Chelsea in this moment. If he wants me, if he’ll allow me to be part of his life, I want that. I’m being careless with my heart, I know it, but I can’t stop. There’s something about this man I can’t resist.
“Chelsea would ruin you just as she has me.”
My eyes widen at his words. What could she possibly do? What has she already done?
“What happened, Grant? Tell me what Chelsea has done to you.” His tenderness and open attitude give me the courage to finally ask what’s been on my mind for weeks.
He tenses and pulls his hand away, leaving me cold and desperate to take back the words. He’s closing in on himself and shutting me out again. I feel it as much as I see it. He points at the picture still in my hands.
“Back then, things were easier. She lied, and she lied well. I believed every poisonous word she spoke. I didn’t know what I do now.” He turns away, effectively ending the conversation. I replace the photo in the cabinet, closing the door on all the questions swirling around in my head.
“I think that’s about all I need for today.” The tone of his voice has changed. He sounds angry and distant. This Grant isn’t the same man who stood in front of me moments ago.
“I’ll just grab my things,” I say, picking up my stuff and walking out on the one man I want more than anything.
I slept in my office.
For three hours after I sent Bridget away, I sat at my desk and stared at papers. I couldn’t focus, and ultimately I got nothing done.
I’m up to my eyeballs in work, and I can’t concentrate to save my damn life.
That fucking picture.
Everything was going great until she found that photo. Why the hell do I still have that? Isabella. She’s the only reason. She owns my heart and soul, and that picture reminds me of happier times. Of times when my heart and soul weren’t at war with my brain, when things were simple, when loving my daughter didn’t come with a price tag that threatened to strangle me alive. I only wish she had any sort of happy in her little life. The few short years she’s had on this earth have been full of confusion and abandonment. I work miserably long hours, and her mother doesn’t give a shit. Not about her, and certainly not about me. I could make a million dollars a minute and fly a private motherfucking jet every other week, but the truth is, I don’t feel like a success story. Not by a long mile. My daughter is miserable, and I know it.
Those few good years came and went quickly. Isabella won’t remember any of them. It breaks me to think that this is her life. That this is all she has to look forward to.
The sun has been up now for a couple of hours. I’m tired, and I smell like shit. I’m in need of a shower and about four more hours of sleep. It’s almost nine a.m., which means I’m fucked. Bridget will be here soon and I’m not prepared. She tried to get me to open up and I did as much as I ever have with anyone, but it wasn’t enough. I could see it all over her face that it wasn’t. I shut her down, and in the process, I hurt her.
But it’s for the best.
I have to keep her at arm’s length. Everything I said was true. Chelsea would ruin her. I can’t allow that to happen. I won’t allow it.
“Good morning, Mr. Lancaster.”
Bridget’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. As I lift my head, my breath catches. She’s beautiful and she doesn’t even try. Her hair is pulled back into a low bun with loose tendrils hanging around her face. She’s stunning.
“Did you sleep here?” Her voice has me clearing my throat and turning away from her.
“I have a lot to do.”
“That’s not a good excuse.” Her voice is stern, but it’s not cold.
My gaze lifts to meet hers. “I’m concerned about the opening,” I confide.
“Let’s take a look at what you have.”
My jaw drops at the woman in front of me. After my harsh exit yesterday, she should be avoiding me. Hell, most would have quit by now, but not her. Every day she comes in here more determined than the day before. If I’m being honest with myself, this is the very reason I’m drawn to her.
Her strong will calls to me, and I’m losing the battle with myself every damn day. I know I need to keep my walls up, not let her sway my resolve, but I can’t. Her ability to rise above our issues and help me regardless of everything has me no longer able to ignore these desires deep inside me.
“It’s a big undertaking and I want to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
Grant has his plan spread out across the desk. He regards me expectantly, clearly looking for affirmation that his ideas are good. I smile at him. He isn’t so bad when he’s like this. He’s almost insecure. It’s cute, considering he’s supposed to be a cutthroat businessman.
“You’re not alone,” I assure him.
“I’m not?”
“You’ve got me.” I cock my head to the side as though that’s obvious. “I’m here to help with anything you need.”
My words come out breathy. I don’t mean them to be anything other than an offer of help, but they sound like so much more. Grant’s eyes darken, and his breath hitches. We’re only inches apart, and with him like this, I want nothing more than to forget the last few weeks and break the distance between us. My tongue darts out, wetting my lower lip. Grant’s eyes follow my movement. With a deep inhale, he moves marginally toward me.
“Grant,” I almost pant.
At the sound of his name from my mouth, his lips crash to mine. All thought about where we are and who he is evaporates. I don’t give a fuck about anything but his mouth on mine. It’s heaven. His groan alerts me we’re on the same wavelength. His hands tangle in my hair, and it’s the alley all over again. Hot. All-consuming.
Perfect.
A commotion down the hall has us jumping apart, and just like that, our connection is gone. Frustrated and panting, we both go to opposite ends of the room.
“I need to use the restroom,” Grant announces, and I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.
I bet you do.
“Hey, sweetie, you look lovely. Have you done something different to your hair?” my mom says the minute I walk in the door of my childhood home.
I laugh. It looks exactly the same. “No, Mom. It’s the same mousy blond as always.”
“It’s not mousy. But if you really feel that way, you could always color it.”
“You think I should color it? I thought you said I looked lovely.” I wink.
“Can never win with you and your sisters. You three will make me go gray.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she does so.
I lean in and kiss my mother on the cheek. She’s extremely protective of me, sometimes to a fault, but the fact she cares as much as she does means the world to me.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Where else?”
I start down the hall, knowing exactly where he is.
“Hi, Dad,” I say as I peek my head into the open door to find my father sitting in his office in the same position he’s always in. He loves this sofa so much that it’s starting to sag from constant use. But no matter how many times Mom has told him it’s time to get a new sofa, he refuses. I love this about my family. The consistency. What must it be like for Grant to not have a relationship with his? I know how much that would wear on me, and in this moment, I get him. My heart hurts for him.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says and smiles up at me. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Dad. I’m happy to see you.”
He pulls me into a hug. “How’s the new job?”
“It’s . . . interesting?”
“You don’t like your job?”
“No, I do. It’s great, and I’m learning a lot, actually.”
“So, what’s the problem? A boy?” my dad says knowingly.
“You see too much.”
“I’m wise. Years will do that to a person. Experience will make you wiser.”
“I don’t want to know anything about your experience,” I tease, but I see the look in my dad’s eyes at my words. My words, although not intended, hit too close to home.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Bridget, but they were all life lessons. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them. Some people come into our lives to grow with us, and others to help us grow ourselves.”
“What I’m hearing you say is don’t hold back?”
He chuckles.
“It depends on what we’re talking about. You haven’t really told me anything concrete.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it, Dad, but I hear what you’re saying.”
He nods. “All I’m going to say is take chances but make sure you guard your heart as well. You’re young, and you have plenty of time to meet the right person. Don’t chase, be chased.”
“Solid advice, Dad.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Anything interesting on?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“The same old stuff.”
“Well then, I’m going to go help Mom. I just wanted to say hi.”
“I’ll join you when dinner is ready.” He smiles.
I walk back toward the kitchen. “Are Lynn or Olivia coming?” I ask my mom.
“Neither could make it. Olivia’s traveling with Spencer somewhere. You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
“I haven’t.”
“I think he’s the one.” She shrugs. “Just a feeling I get.”
I roll my eyes. My mother always says stuff like this. She thinks being a mom gives her superpowers. “You read crystal balls nowadays?”
“Hey, wait until you have children and you’ll understand what I mean. You get a feeling with your children. Mark my words.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Help me set the table.”
I laugh, grabbing plates and setting them around the table.
“Smells good in here,” Dad says, entering the kitchen.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ve been slaving away all day,” I say, placing the last plate in place and taking my seat with the others.
“Ha! You’d poison us with your cooking.”
“I don’t even have a comeback for that. You’re absolutely right.” I turn my head toward my mom. “How come my cooking is so bad when yours is so good? I didn’t get your culinary genes at all.”
“There’s no such thing as culinary genes. It’s all to do with hard work and practice.”
“Ah, well, there’s my problem.”
“You have so much determination in other areas, why not the kitchen?”
“Not interested, I guess,” I say, scooping food onto my fork.
“Now, there is the truth.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I roll my eyes, blatantly. “This is delicious.” I chew my first mouthful of the chicken curry.
“So, tell us about work. How’s it going?”
“It’s good.” I haven’t told them where I’m working and I hope they don’t press. They probably think I’m still working at Axis, and seeing as I haven’t told Olivia where I work, I have no intention of breaking the news to them first. “It’s going great. I’m really enjoying it, and I’m learning so much. I’m making some great connections.”
“I’m glad to hear that. What’s your boss like? I remember you said he was quite hard.”
I choke on my food.
“Bridget, are you all right?” Mom asks, brows pinched.
“I’m fine. You just hit the nail on the head,” I lie. “He’s tough all right. But I can handle it.”
“Lynn said you were very unhappy,” Dad retorts.
“Actually, he’s been a pleasure to work for. He’s been teaching me the ropes and has finally opened up quite a lot to me. You know, I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. And naturally, it does help that he’s so good-looking,” I joke before thinking better of it. I’ve just opened up a can of worms.
“He’s good-looking? I didn’t know that.” Her downturned lips and creased brow tell me she has something to say, but then she shakes her head and just nods. “Nothing wrong with a bit of eye candy. Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it, dear.”
Eye candy? Dear God.
“This boss better be treating you well, or he and I will be having a chat,” Dad says with a stern face.
Damn my big mouth. I said too much earlier when we talked. He’s a smart man. He’s piecing it together.
“He’s a boss, Dad. A giant prick, but good at what he does.”
He nods and that seems to pacify him, throwing him off the scent of Grant Lancaster and me.
After dinner, my father returns to his office—as usual. I help my mother pack everything away in the kitchen, and she’s unusually quiet. She puts down the dish she’s holding and looks at me.
“You need to be careful with your boss,” she says.
“With my boss?” Not what I was expecting. At. All. “What do you mean?” I try to play dumb, but there’s no use. My cheeks burn.
“Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No, there’s nothing going on at all. Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. It’s another one of my feelings, I guess.”
“Well, this time you’re wrong. He’s just my boss, and I’m overly enthusiastic because I really enjoy what I’m doing. I mean, this is the first time I’m being consulte
d on things. I was worried I might end up sucking at it, which would’ve been awful. But I’m actually good at it. And yeah, he’s good-looking, but that’s just a fact. Nothing else. Plus, he’s married.”
“Just be careful, darling.”
“Mom, you honestly don’t have to worry. Thank you for caring. I know you only mean well. But you’re stressing for nothing. Anyway, I’m only going to be working there for a few more weeks. Then I’m out of there and I probably won’t ever see him again.”
She picks up a dirty glass and takes it over to the sink. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Nothing good can come from you falling for some hotshot businessman you work with, Bridget, especially a married one.”
She’s transferring her issues with Dad to me. He was a career-focused man who worked all the time and ended up in an affair that almost rocked my family. She’s worried I’m going down the same path.
“I won’t get hurt, Mom. I’m a big girl and I don’t have a family to worry about.”
She stiffens. “I wasn’t . . . I’m not—”
“Mom, stop. You don’t have to say anything.”
She drops her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair.” She frowns. “You just remind me so much of your dad. No two people were ever more alike, and I worry, is all.”
“Aren’t you happy with Dad, Mom?”
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize his faults. And we all have them, Bridget. You and your father are prideful people who wear your hearts on your sleeves. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
I smile, walk to her, and pull her into a hug. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore, and I can tell it’s upset her. Right now I’ll ignore that she compared me to the worst of my father and just hug her.
With the grand opening of the hotel rapidly approaching, I’ve barely had time to breathe during the last few weeks. Long hours and early mornings monopolize my existence. Grant and I have fallen into a routine, but the aftermath of that day and almost having been caught still lurks in both of our minds. It’s evident in the way I catch him watching me. His hungry eyes promising me he’ll eat me whole if I get too close, so I keep my distance, heeding his unspoken warning. It wouldn’t be good for either one of us to get caught, and the reality is, once we start, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want him in every way possible.
