Mavis nodded. “The oven doesn’t come with any strings.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “In that case, thank you.”
Chapter Nine
Bridget hurried to answer the ringing phone, setting empty glasses on the counter behind the bar as she picked up the receiver.
“Hello. Paradise Motel.”
“Bridget, it’s Jack. I’m glad I caught you. Something’s come up that I need to discuss with you.”
“Is it Leslie? Is she all right?”
“Leslie is fine, it’s not about her.” He hesitated. “It’s about the luncheon I asked you to cater.”
“The luncheon? What about it?”
“I’d like to talk to you in person but I can’t leave Leslie alone.”
His tone alarmed her. “Then spit it out, Jack. What’s wrong?”
She heard him take a deep breath. Her fingers clutched the receiver.
“I got a call from the German tour operators,” he said at last. “Another vacation farm they’d been planning to visit had to cancel. They’ve asked if they can spend the night at the Lazy J. But that means in addition to the lunch at noon, we’d also have to serve dinner in the evening and then breakfast the following morning.”
Her heart beat a wild tattoo. “What did you tell them?”
“That I’d check with my staff and get back to them as soon as possible.”
She forced herself to breathe calmly. It was more work, but still doable. She’d keep it fairly simple, and prepare as much of the food ahead of time as possible. Perhaps she could get Megan to help, as Celia had offered. After all, it was still a small group, just six including Jack.
“It’s a good opportunity for you. I’m sure I can manage. I still have few days to plan—”
“There’s something else,” he said. “There’s going to be twelve of them instead of five.”
Her brain abruptly stopped working. His words played over and over in her head. Twelve people. Twelve people? What the hell was she going to do with twelve people? Thirteen counting Jack.
Lucky thirteen.
“Bridget, are you still there?”
She roused herself from her stupor. “Yes, I’m still here.”
“Are you okay?”
She had no idea. “Fine. Yes, fine.”
“Look, I’ll call them back and say it’s too much, that we’re not capable of handling that kind of a crowd.”
And he’d never get their business again. Not being able to serve his guests’ needs would effectively kill any chances to create more jobs on the ranch the way he’d hoped.
How could she disappoint him like that?
But how could she pull this off?
“I’ll do it,” she said abruptly before she could change her mind.
“Bridget, you don’t have to—”
“I said I’ll...I’ll do it.” She couldn’t quite believe she was agreeing to this. Sweat broke out on her brow and her palm felt slick against the telephone receiver.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t sure at all.
“Okay then.”
“Okay.”
She hung up the phone with trembling hands. Good Lord, what had she just agreed to?
Her heart continued to beat out of control. The room felt smaller than it had five minutes ago, and it was getting harder to breathe. She had to get out of here.
She untied her apron, tossing it into a basket under the bar, and then sought out her mother. Mavis was across the room talking to some patrons.
“I’ve got to go,” she said when she reached her.
Mavis looked puzzled. “Go where?”
She had no idea. “Out. I need to go out.”
“Bridget—”
“I-I need some exercise. I’m going jogging.”
“Jogging? But it’s dark outside.”
She headed for the door before her mother could raise any more objections. “I’ll take a flashlight. I’ll see you later.”
“But—”
Mavis’s words were lost as she closed the door. Bridget took a long shuddering breath of cool night air, and started to walk.
* * *
Jack hastily dropped Leslie at his mother’s house and hurried to the bar. As soon as he opened the door he scanned the room for Bridget. She wasn’t anywhere in sight.
He found Mavis behind the bar, pulling drafts. She looked relieved when she saw him.
“Mavis, where’s Bridget?”
“She’s out,” she said, a worried frown on her face. “She said she’s going jogging.”
“Jogging?”
“Yes, that’s what she said. Can you believe it?”
Actually, he could. He pictured her walking briskly down a moonlit gravel road. He hoped she’d removed the apron this time.
Concern etched Mavis’s face. “What would possess her to go for a run at this time of night?”
This was his fault. He never should have phoned her with his news. He should simply have told the tour operators that he couldn’t accommodate them. Nothing was worth upsetting her like this.
“I’ll find her, Mavis, don’t worry. I have an idea where she might be.”
Mavis sagged with relief. “Bring her home, Jack. I don’t know what’s bothering her but she needs to be home.”
“I will.”
He sprinted out the door and hopped into his truck. Gravel flew as he dashed out of the parking lot and peeled down the same gravel road he’d found her on a few weeks ago. He sincerely hoped Bridget was a creature of habit.
When the headlights of his truck picked up the silhouette of a person walking toward him, he expelled the breath he’d been holding, feeling weak with relief. Thank God she was okay.
As he approached, she shielded her eyes against the headlights with her hand. He jumped out of the truck and sprinted to her.
He ran his hands up and down her bare arms. “Are you okay? God, you’re freezing.” He shrugged out his jacket and wrapped it around her.
“I’m fine, really,” she said, her voice sounding tired. She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes luminous. “But thanks for the jacket. It is kind of chilly out here.”
“Christ, Bridget.”
He simply couldn’t resist her any longer. He pulled her into his arms. At first she felt stiff with resistance but gradually her body softened against his, and she wound her arms loosely around his waist.
“You’re nice and warm,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
He held her closer and murmured reassurances to her. She felt soft and pliant in his arms, her curves melding perfectly against him. Jack breathed in her scent, a light floral fragrance that he remembered and had always associated with her. His memory assaulted him with vignettes of the past. He remembered the sweetness of those first inexperienced kisses. He remembered the softness of her skin, the incredible feel of her body pressed against his. His body began to stir, his arousal pushing against the zipper of his jeans.
Damn. He hadn’t meant for that to happen.
He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. All he’d wanted to do was to bring her home to her mother, safe and sound. Unfortunately his body had different ideas.
“I’m sorry. I never should have upset you like this.”
She looked up into his face and smiled. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve had some time on my little walk to ponder the meaning of life. I can do this. I know I can.”
“Bridget, please don’t think you have to do this for me.”
“No,” she said. “I have to do this for me. I can’t live in fear the rest of my life. If I don’t conquer this thing, it’s going to conquer me. It nearly has.”
He gazed into her eyes, awed by her strength. She was an amazing woman.
He hadn’t planned to kiss her any more than he’d planned to hold her in his arms. But as soon as his lips touched hers, tasted her sweetness, Jack knew he was lost.
He’d worry about w
hat that meant later. For now he only wanted to enjoy the woman in his arms.
She made little sounds of pleasure that went straight to his groin. He placed his hands on her buttocks and pulled her hard against his arousal. His brain screamed at him to stop even as his body demanded more.
This is insanity.
This is heaven.
Bridget pushed away first. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were huge as she stared at him, whether in revulsion or arousal he couldn’t be sure. Her hand went to her mouth, touching lips swollen from his kiss.
“What was that?”
“It’s been a while for me,” Jack said, “but I believe it was a kiss.”
“Oh.”
Slowly she began to smile. “Yeah, I think it was. It’s been a while for me too. I’d forgotten.”
He fought the urge to pull her back into his arms and kiss her all over again. “I guess it’s like riding a bike. You never forget.”
She laughed at that. “Good to know.”
His jacket had slipped from her shoulders and she shivered. Jack picked up the jacket from the ground and wrapped it around her once more, being careful not to touch her. If he did, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t throw her into the bed of his truck and make love to her right then and there.
She deserved better.
“I’d better get you back to the motel. Your mom was worried about you.”
She sobered immediately. “You’re right. We should go.”
Neither of them made a move to leave. He didn’t want this thing between them, whatever it was, to end.
He saw her shiver again. He took her hand and led her to the truck. Their moment was over.
A few minutes later Jack pulled up near the rear entrance to the restaurant. Bridget glanced toward him.
“Are you coming inside?” she asked.
“No, I should pick up Leslie at my mom’s and take her home.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Besides, I have something of a problem right now. A kind of obvious problem. I’d rather not advertise it to the whole town.”
She lowered her gaze to his crotch. A wicked smile slowly spread across her face. “Oh, I see what you mean.”
“It’s entirely your fault.”
“Really?”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased about it. This is damned uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry.”
But she didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she said. She took off his jacket and laid it on the seat between them. “And thank you for the loan of the jacket.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her hand rested on the door handle. She turned to him, her expression partially hidden by her hair. “It’s been a long time for me. I...”
He waited for her to finish. Instead she simply smiled and said, “Good night, Jack.”
“Good night.”
With that she opened the truck door and hurried into the motel. Jack didn’t realize until he reached his mother’s house and caught a glance of his face in the rearview mirror that he was grinning like an idiot.
* * *
Bridget escaped upstairs to the apartment after assuring her mother she was still alive and mostly in charge of all of her faculties. She watched TV with Rebecca for a short while, too keyed up to sleep. When Rebecca went to bed, she thought of going back downstairs into the bar, but couldn’t stand the thought of fending off personal questions and speculative looks.
Kissing Jack brought a myriad of emotions bubbling to the surface, emotions she’d been trying to avoid since first seeing him again. Her guilt for leaving him all those years ago still lingered, but now a newly remembered emotion reared its ugly head. Only three months after she’d arrived in California for culinary school, Celia had called to tell her Jack had married another woman. The news had devastated her. All those declarations of love he’d made to her meant nothing if he could forget her in less than three months.
She’d do well to remember the past before thinking about any kind of future with Jack.
She grabbed the phone and dialed her sister’s home number. Celia answered on the first ring.
Bridget didn’t bother introducing herself. “I’d like you to cut my hair. Tomorrow.”
“I’ll check my schedule as soon as I get to work. I’ll make sure I book a time for you when we won’t be disturbed.”
“Good. I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”
She returned the phone to its cradle, breathing a sigh of relief. How things had changed in just a few short weeks. For the first time in her life, she was seeking her sister’s advice.
And not just about her hair.
Chapter Ten
The next day in Celia’s shop, Bridget stared at her reflection as she sat in the chair in front of the mirror. Her hair had been washed and now hung in wet waves, sticking to the plastic cape slung around her shoulders. She glanced at her sister, who looked positively giddy at the prospect of getting her hands on her hair.
“Be gentle with me.”
Celia laughed and snapped her scissors. “I’ve got you right where I want you, sweetie.”
For the next fifteen minutes she watched nervously as chunks of her hair flew to the floor. At last Celia stood back and admired her handiwork.
“Yes, that should do nicely. Now to mix the color.”
She donned rubber gloves and a cape and began combining chemicals in a bowl.
“You look more like a mad scientist than a hairdresser,” Bridget said grumpily. “I expect you to break into a crazy laugh any second.”
“Quit complaining. When I finish with you you’re going to be even more gorgeous than you already are.”
“Please,” she snorted. “You’d have to be some kind of magician to make me gorgeous.”
Celia stopped mixing and set her bowl on the counter, her gaze meeting Bridget’s in the mirror. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t know how beautiful you are.”
“You know damn well that you and Mavis got all the looks in the family.” She lifted a strand of hair that was beginning to curl tightly as it dried. “I got the Brillo pad hair and the flat chest.”
“Oh, Bridge.” Celia put her arm around her shoulder. “Look at those cheekbones. And the deep blue of your eyes. And that skin. You’ve always had the most beautiful porcelain skin. Your freckles are adorable. You are an incredibly beautiful woman.”
She looked into the mirror, trying to see herself through Celia’s eyes. She did have good skin. It was her best feature and she was careful to look after it. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. But beautiful? Ben had never thought so.
Did Jack think she was beautiful? She pushed the ridiculous speculation from her mind.
“Uncle Frank used to say I looked like my dad,” she said quietly.
“You do,” Celia agreed. “At least the hair. When I think of him, I remember that crazy, curly red hair.”
“I hardly remember what he looked like anymore.” The thought that she would forget her father’s face made her sad. “I don’t even have a picture of him.”
“I have a couple of pictures. I’ll give you one.”
“Do you ever think of him?”
Celia picked up her bowl and started mixing again. “Sometimes, but I have to admit, not very often.”
“He’s been dead a long time, but I still think about him a lot. Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if Mom hadn’t taken us away?”
She took her time answering and Bridget held her breath.
“You were so young when Mom and Dad split up. I guess you don’t remember how it was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know they fought a lot. I remember sneaking out of my bed when I’d hear him come home late at night. I’d hide at the top of the stairs and listen to them argue.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Mostly about him coming home late.” She paused in her stirring and me
t Bridget’s eyes in the mirror again. “They fought about money too. I think he had a hard time keeping a job.”
The news was a shock to Bridget. Why would her father have such a hard time holding on to a job? But it explained why her mother needed to work to support them. “I understand now why Mom came to Paradise to work with Uncle Frank. But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t let Dad see us. Expect for those teddy bears he sent us shortly after we moved, she wouldn’t even let us have any gifts from him. It wasn’t fair.”
Celia began applying the color to her hair, placing small pieces of foil around the colored strands.
“Maybe there weren’t any other gifts from Dad. Maybe there was nothing to give.”
She met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “No, I don’t believe that. He loved us. He would have come to see us, or at least sent us something. He would have kept in touch.”
Celia sighed. “That’s all I know, Bridge. You should probably talk to Mom about this.”
She said nothing more and Bridget got the impression the subject was closed. Her sister worked in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.
“Last night on the phone you sounded a little frazzled. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
She was glad to talk about something other than old family heartaches. She filled Celia in on the new requirements of Jack’s guests.
“Thirteen people for lunch, dinner and breakfast! I can’t pull it off alone. Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?”
“What about Mom or Gavin’s mom Jane? I’m sure either one would give you a hand.”
“Mom is busy in the bar on Saturday nights and I hate to make Jane work so hard for so long. I’m sure Jack wouldn’t appreciate it either. Neither Mom nor Jane is young anymore.”
“True,” Celia agreed. “What about a high school kid?”
“I was thinking about asking Megan and Mike and Rebecca to help serve dinner, but I was hoping for someone with a little more maturity to assist with prep work in the kitchen, someone I don’t have to closely supervise. I’m going to be too busy.”
Celia pulled off her gloves. “There. You’re finished. I’ll set the timer for fifteen minutes and then we’ll rinse.”
She looked in the mirror. Rows of foil lined her head. “I look like a cross between the Bride of Frankenstein and Rosy the Robot. Any minute now I’m going to start picking up radio signals from outer space.”
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