by Mari Carr
She smiled through her tears and lifted her hand to wave. Matt returned the gesture as Mark tipped his hat. Then they got in the cab and they were gone.
Chapter Twelve
Bridget stood at the window for nearly half an hour, watching the people on the street below without ever really seeing them. Her eyes were too full of tears to see much through the watery blur. Finally, she dragged herself to the kitchen table and slumped in the chair.
More horns blared below and she tried to block her ears. The city noise was suddenly deafening and annoying and infuriating.
She’d really let them leave. Let Matt and Mark walk out of her life without telling them what they meant to her. All her reasons for letting them go began to crash in on her until she thought she’d suffocate under the weight.
She hadn’t had a choice. Had she? She thought about Lyle and what they’d shared—friendship, laughter, dreams for the future, finding true love—all those simple joys. She wiped her eyes. Lyle would never experience any of those things again.
She walked to the kitchen counter and retrieved Lyle’s last letter to her. She read the words again, but this time, they took on a different meaning.
Now it’s up to you. Finish the job. Do what I couldn’t.
If Lyle had taught her anything—while they were together or with his untimely death—it was that life was too precious to waste. He wouldn't want her to devote herself to a job she wasn’t passionate about. He wouldn't want her to give up the chance for real, true love.
Suddenly everything became so clear to her. All Lyle had ever wanted was for her to be happy. Didn’t she owe it to him to live her life to the fullest, rather than wallowing in misery and guilt? She wasn’t the same woman she’d been a year ago. She couldn’t go back to the life she’d known when Lyle had been alive even if she tried. Life was a series of steps, of moving forward. Staying in New York would be like standing still.
She had no idea where her life was leading her, but every fiber of her being said she’d never know true happiness if she didn’t take a chance at making a future with Matt and Mark. In Saratoga.
Her tears dried up and she smiled at what she was contemplating. Holy crap. Was she seriously going to move to a horse ranch all the way across the country with not one, but two cowboys? She giggled, the sound echoing in the empty room. Yep. She sure as hell was.
Her cell phone rang and she raced to retrieve it from her coat pocket, praying it was Matt or Mark. An envelope fell out and landed on the floor as she grabbed the phone.
Her heart fell when she saw her editor’s number. She sighed. “Hello.”
“Hey, Bridget. How’s my favorite reporter? I was wondering if you’d had a chance to start working on your article about the trial. We were hoping to get it on tomorrow’s front page.”
The old Bridget, the one her editor knew, would have stayed up all night writing the story. Instead, she’d spent the evening wrapped up in the embraces of the two cowboys who’d changed her life. Bending down, she picked up the unfamiliar envelope.
“Um, I haven’t had a chance to start on it.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. She’d shocked him.
“Oh, I see,” he replied.
Opening the envelope, she spotted a plane ticket. Her ticket to Saratoga. Mark had said they’d bought one for her. Her hands began to shake as she realized what she held.
“Truth is,” she began, “I think I’m going to have to pass on the article. And the promotion. And, well, my old job too. I’m quitting it all.”
She wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but the moment she began speaking them, they came faster, grew stronger. She had a ticket. She was going to use it.
“I don’t understand,” her editor said.
“I’m quitting. I’ll email you my resignation later, but for right now, I have a flight to catch.”
She hung up the phone without waiting for a good-bye. Reaching for a tissue, she blew her nose and cursed herself for being all kinds of a fool. How could she have let them leave without her?
Rushing to her room, she began throwing things in a bag as she called for a taxi. She was going to be on that plane. She had to be.
Bridget ran through the terminal, glancing at the clock. She was an OCD flyer by nature, always at the airport hours before departure. She currently had three minutes to reach her gate or the flight was going to take off without her. If she’d had a brain in her head, she would have planned this whole thing better. Arranged for a later flight. Packed up her apartment. Given notice to her landlord. Hired a moving company. Told her parents she was moving west.
Christ. Here she was running through JFK like a lunatic, trying to catch a plane when the fact was she was just going to have to turn around and come back to New York later to clean up all the messes she’d left behind.
She grinned. She didn’t give a fuck. This was fun. She was dashing headfirst into her future, leaving the old Bridget behind.
She rushed up to the desk and flashed her ticket to the airline attendant. Everyone else was already on the plane. She couldn’t wait to see Matt and Mark’s faces when she boarded.
She giggled as she stepped on to the plane—giddy with anticipation. The flight attendant gave her a funny look, then smiled. Apparently uncontrollable happiness was contagious.
“Welcome aboard.” The attendant looked at her ticket. “Your seat is near the back. Next to that tall handsome man in the cowboy hat.”
Bridget glanced toward the rear of the plane and spotted them. Her heart nearly exploded with joy.
Neither man had seen her yet. Mark had claimed the window seat and was watching the activity out on the runway. Matt was sitting next to the aisle with his head thrown back, his eyes closed. The seat between them—her seat—was empty.
She walked straight up to their row and hitched her purse higher on her arm. “Excuse me. I think that’s my seat.”
Both men jerked at the sound of her voice. Her smile was so huge it hurt her face, and then a sudden bolt of panic jerked her. What if their offer hadn’t been sincere? What if they didn’t want—
She didn’t have a chance to finish her thought. Matt stood up quickly, bumping his head on the overhead compartment. That didn’t stop him from giving a loud whoop. The chatter in the airplane died at his loud exclamation and Bridget saw one of the flight attendants look their way with a worried expression.
He hugged her. A hard, full-body embrace that drove all the air from her lungs.
Mark’s voice cut through the silence. “Stop hogging her.”
Matt released her, helping her to her seat. Once she was in place, Mark wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her as close as the armrest between them would allow. “Goddamn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
She pulled back and cupped his beloved face with her hand. “Ditto. I couldn’t let you guys leave without saying something.”
Matt quickly claimed one of her hands, leaning closer. The airline safety video began to play, but they ignored it. “What did you forget to say, sweetheart?”
“I wanted to know if your offer still stands—”
“It stands,” Mark interjected quickly. “For you. Always.”
“I’d like to move to Wyoming and start a life with you guys. You saved my life, kept me safe, but more than that, you brought me to life. I’m not sure I knew what it meant to live until I met you.”
Matt leaned over and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “You did the same for us, Bridge. Mark and I were just living, slogging our way through the daily grind without even knowing how much was missing from our lives. Then you fell down at our feet—literally—and it became obvious we had no idea what happiness was. You opened our eyes to some pretty amazing possibilities. Now I can’t even imagine a life without you, without Mark. We fit together. The three of us.”
Mark squeezed her hand. “You’re ours, Bridget. Our city cowgirl. We’ll keep you safe, always.”
Matt reclaimed her attention. “And warm and happy and—” He winked at her as he added “well-fed” to his romantic list.
Bridget could see a few passengers looking in their direction, could read the confusion on their faces as they tried to figure out the relationship dynamics.
She grinned. They had a lot of things to work out, but she knew they would. “I know now that everything’s going to be all right. There’s nothing the three of us can’t do, because you love me. And I love you.”
Epilogue
Rodney sat on the front porch of the James Ranch and watched the sun set behind the mountains. An early spring was upon them and he was taking advantage of the warmer weather, needing a respite from being cooped up inside.
“I wondered where you disappeared to.” Bridget came outside and joined him on the porch swing.
He could hear the television playing in the background. “You’re missing the movie.”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen it before.”
The James family was watching The Hangover, curled up in comfort on the couches and chairs, eating popcorn, laughing at Zach Galifinakis.
“So you came back.” Rodney hadn’t been surprised when Bridget arrived in Saratoga two days ago, hand in hand with her handsome cowboys. Anyone could look at them and know they were meant to be together.
She looked out at the ranch. He was struck by the utter contentment on her face. After months of living together, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the true Bridget. The one sitting beside him now. Relaxed, complacent, peaceful. It was a nice change from the constant fear and suspicion that had resided there before the trial.
“Do you think I was crazy to drop everything in New York and follow Matt and Mark back here?”
“Not crazy at all, unless you count crazy in love.”
She grinned. “I don’t regret the decision. Even though my mother flipped out and yelled at me for two hours on the phone for quitting my job without having another one lined up. She also wasn’t too pleased to hear I’d followed a man I’d just met out west on what she views as a lark.”
“A man? Not men?”
“Jesus.” Bridget shuddered. “It’s going to take me a while to work up to that little detail. She went seriously ballistic over me moving to Saratoga. Not sure how I’ll break the threesome deal to her.”
“You know, there’s a newspaper in Saratoga. Maybe you can be the What to Do This Weekend girl here.”
They both laughed and she shook her head. “That would be a damn short column.”
“And the same every week,” Rodney joked. “So have you given any thought to what you want to do?” He’d spent every waking moment of the last week trying to figure out his future. He glanced at his bandaged arm, and felt the now-familiar pang of fear that never completely went away grip him again. It had consumed him ever since the bullet pierced his flesh. Caleb told him he may never regain full use of the arm. He swallowed heavily. What if the hand remained paralyzed? What good was a one-armed cop? No good. In the blink of an eye, his career had been destroyed. Depression wafted through him once more. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
“Actually…” Bridget looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he braced himself. She obviously had a scheme in the works. “I was toying with the idea of trying a different kind of writing.”
“Other than journalism?”
She nodded. “I talked to Matt and Mark about it and they were completely supportive.”
“What kind of writing?”
“I want to write a novel—a romantic suspense.”
Bridget seemed to prepare herself for his teasing, but it was perfect for her. He was amazed by her resilience and creativity. Two days out of work and she’d come up with a plan. If anyone could succeed at that career, it was Bridget. He was jealous of her confidence, her willingness to put herself out there and try something new.
“I think that sounds awesome.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting up straighter. “Because I’m planning to make the first one a sort of fictionalized account of our experiences. I’ve already decided I’m dedicating the book to you and Lyle.”
A book? Dedicated to him? “Cool.”
Bridget turned on the swing, so that she was facing him. He was slightly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Rodney?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
He wanted to lie. It was on the tip of his tongue to give the standard I’m fine response. He couldn’t do it. For one thing, Bridget would see right through it, and for another, he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t even close to that.
He shook his head. “Not really. I’m fucked up, kitten.” He swallowed heavily, a lump forming in his throat. He gestured to his injured arm. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“What do you want to do?”
He was confused by her question. “What do you mean?”
“You need to go through physical therapy for your arm, right?”
He nodded.
“Are you going to do that?”
“Of course I am.”
“Why?” she asked. “You sound to me like you’ve already written that arm off.”
He scowled and started to deny her assertion. He shut his mouth instead. Hard to argue against the truth. He’d been throwing the mother of all pity parties for himself this week.
“Rodney, you’re young, brave, strong and one of the most determined people I’ve ever met. If anyone can make a miracle, it’s you.”
“You’re being persuasive again.”
She laughed. “Nope, this is one of those times when I’m being right. You always mix those up.”
He was still afraid. “I’m a cop, Bridget. That’s all I know how to be. What if my arm doesn’t come back? What then?”
“Well, then, you have a whole world of careers to choose from. You need to think outside the box. I can’t be a reporter in Saratoga, so I’ll be a writer. You can’t be a cop in New York—for now,” she quickly interjected. “So, you’ll be…”
Lost.
It was the only word that came to his mind. Finally, he just shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She reached over to grasp his good hand. “You have time to figure it out. Will you stay here while you do?”
He hadn’t been in any hurry to return to the city. He wished he could understand why. It just felt like there was something tying him here.
Jake’s laughter drifted from the living room.
Jacob James.
If Rodney was being completely honest, he knew why he was staying. Jake had been a godsend to him these past few weeks. Offering companionship during his recuperation. Comfort and laughter during his down times.
Rodney knew Jake hoped for—wanted—more from him, but that desire seemed pointless right now. Rodney had nothing to offer but a crippled arm, a gut full of resentment and a pile of regrets. It wasn’t fair to dim Jake’s bright light with the shadow currently residing over him.
“I have no idea where I belong right now.”
Bridget grinned. “Well, I may not know much, Rodney, but I do know the answer to that. You belong here. With us.”
Her words soothed his weary soul. “Here sounds pretty good.”
“This is a good place. I knew it the first night we arrived. I don’t know the answer to your problem, but I do think you’ll find it here. You might even find a bit of happiness along the way.”
“Happiness sounds good.”
She laughed, her face painted with sheer delight. “Happiness is very good.”
About the Author
Writing a book was number one on Mari’s bucket list, and on her thirty-fourth birthday, she set out to see that goal achieved. Now her computer is jammed full of stories—novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends. A New York Times and USA Today bestseller as well as winner of the Passionate Plume, Mari found time for writing by squeezing it into the hours between 3 a.m. and daybreak, when her family is asleep and the house i
s quiet.
You can visit Mari’s website at www.maricarr.com. She is also on Facebook and Twitter. She blogs at International Heat and hangs out on the Heat Wave Readers Yahoo group.
Look for these titles by Mari Carr
Now Available:
Because of You
Black & White Collection
Erotic Research
Tequila Truth
Learning Curves
Rough Cut
Happy Hour
Power Play
Slam Dunk
Compass Brothers (with Jayne Rylon)
Northern Exposure
Southern Comfort
Eastern Ambitions
Coming Soon:
Western Ties
Dangerous Curves
Love’s Compass
Who says you can only score on the court?
Slam Dunk
© 2011 Mari Carr
A story from the Black & White Collection
Trey Donovan is mourning the end of summer with fellow teachers when Ellie Hunter walks into Tully’s Bar. Better yet, she’s now a former rival basketball coach and the newest science teacher at his high school. He can’t think of anyone better to fill the vacant assistant coach job. In fact, if he plays his cards right, she might end up his perfect match off the court, too.
If she stops holding him at arm’s length long enough to give him a chance.
Coming off a year of bad decisions that not only broke her heart, but cost her a job, Ellie has good reason to swear off workplace romances. Her undeniable—and undeniably mutual—attraction to Trey is a serious threat to her resolve. Especially since Trey’s too-easy capitulation to her boundaries stings just a little too much.
Funny thing, though. When she sees Trey dancing with someone else, the edges of her vision turn decidedly green. And when another man tries to kiss Ellie, Trey sees red.
