She knew better than to request that he ignore it. Paul reached for the receiver automatically. He actually blinked as though he was surprised to see it in his hand.
“Who is it?” Bridget asked. Paul squinted at the caller I.D.
“Work.” He grunted. Then, to her disbelief, he tossed it aside, letting it land on the counter with an ominous crack.
“Paul?”
“I’m going to ignore it,” he said harshly, and then reached up to stroke her hair. His features were scrunched in concentration. She could tell that it was taking him a great deal of effort to stay on task.
“Paul…”
“I said we’d ignore it!” he barked, frightening her with the rage in his tone- but he was instantly contrite. He took a deep breath. “Bridge, I-!”
“It’s okay,” she assured him, “I-!”
Paul’s jaw clenched, and he turned away, putting his forehead against the cabinets- and visibly tensing when the phone began to ring again. This time, it was the landline.
“Paul?”
“They can do without me for one goddamed day,” he hissed, clearly struggling to control his voice. Bridget was frightened by the pent-up rage that she could see simmering beneath his features- although relieved that it wasn’t directed at her.
Bridget licked her lips, “If you need to talk about-”
“I DON’T!” Paul spat, and then forced his eyes shut and took a few steadying breaths before he opened them again. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced when he had regained his composure.
Bridget nodded, “Me too.”
The phone rang again. This time, she had the sense not to mention it.
“Maybe we can go…somewhere,” Paul suggested- his eyes purposefully averted.
She nodded glumly. She was happy about the prospect of spending more time with Paul, but the magic of the morning had been ruined.
It was still raining outside, and Bridget shuddered at the thought of following Paul’s suggestion to go shopping (she might feel comfortable eating around him, but she would rather die than let him watch her try on clothes), so they ended up staying in. They curled up on the couch and watched a movie.
Paul had disconnected the phone.
Bridget was pleased to have her time with her new lover uninterrupted- but also confused. It wasn’t like him to completely blow off the restaurant. Something was obviously wrong- but he wouldn’t tell her what it was.
“I’m surprised that Tad didn’t call,” Bridget said, frowning at the clock. It was eight o’clock- time for the little boy’s bedtime. “They weren’t leaving for Orlando until tomorrow, right?”
“Er…no,” Paul said- and then swore under his breath when he realized why they hadn’t received a call. He switched his cell back on. There were nearly 20 missed calls. At least five were from Dixie’s house.
“Oh, Paul! You have to phone him back!”
“I know! I know!”
Paul was already dialing Dixie’s number, hoping that Tad wasn’t already in bed asleep. He felt terrible! It was like he had slipped back into his old habits- forgetting about his son the second that he was out of sight.
He did have a lot on his mind at the moment.
But that was no excuse!
A second voice, one that sounded suspiciously like it belonged to Bridget, immediately countered his initial excuse. It was no excuse. Paul knew that in his heart, but he had just been so distracted by Bridget, he grinned, and with work, his smile vanished.
Fortunately someone picked up on the other end of the line before Paul could start thinking too much about the restaurant.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Dixie, is that you? It’s Paul. Look, I’m really sorry-”
“Paul, sugar! Where have you been? Tad’s been trying to get a hold of you all night!”
Paul winced. “Yeah, I know, I’m really sorry. My- ugh- cell phone got turned off somehow.”
“Your house phone’s been ringing off the hook too,” Dixie said, her voice laden with curiosity, concern, and just a hint of disapproval.
Paul knew that the disapproval was there on Tad’s behalf. Dixie’s kids were her whole world. She had a big heart, and a habit of taking other people under her wing, children and adults alike.
“Is Tad still awake? I wanted to tell him good night.”
“Sure is, he’s here now. I’ll put him on.”
“Thanks, Dixie.”
“Daddy?”
Paul smiled when he heard Tad’s voice, and felt a strong tug of something warm and powerful in the center of his chest.
“Hey kid, I’m sorry I missed your calls. How are you doing?”
“I’m good, Daddy, but I miss you and Nanny.”
“We miss you too,” Paul assured his son, and while that was true, Paul hadn’t exactly let the child-free time go to waste. “But you’re having fun, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Uncle Drew is funny. He’s been telling us stories about when he and you and Uncle Jack and Auntie Molly were little, Daddy.”
Paul groaned. “What stories?” he asked, and then figured that he probably didn’t want to know. It was a small relief when Tad asked a question of his own instead of answering, even if the question itself was something that Paul wanted to avoid thinking about.
“Are you at work?”
“No, I’m at home. Why do you ask?”
“I wanted to talk to Nanny too, but Auntie Dixie doesn’t have her number,” Tad said sadly.
“Why do you need her number? She’s right here. You want me to put her on the phone?” Tad’s ‘yes’ was instantaneous. Paul laughed, and tried to ignore the small twinge of jealousy that he felt. “Okay, I’ll say good night then. You have fun tomorrow. I’ll call you again before bedtime.”
“Okay Daddy, good night!”
“Your turn,” Paul said, grinning at Bridget, who had been trying to look like she wasn’t eavesdropping while hanging off his every word. She took the cell phone from him, just as eager to talk to Tad as the little boy had been to talk to her.
Paul half listened to the side of the conversation that he could hear, and half fantasized about what he would do to Bridget when she hung up and he had her all to himself again.
She was just now going through the elaborate bedtime routine that she and Tad had, orally at least; any minute now she would be done… Paul’s blood heated with anticipation.
“All right, sweetheart, good night, sweet dreams! Can you put your Auntie Dixie on for just second?”
Paul groaned audibly. He didn’t want Bridget to start chatting away with Dixie! Dixie could talk for hours, although his interest was piqued when Bridget suddenly turned as red as a ripe strawberry.
“Why didn’t I take myself away somewhere for a break?” she echoed the question that Dixie had apparently just put to her. “I- well I- NO! Of course not! I just- he- I-”
Paul plucked the phone out of Bridget’s fingers. “Are you giving my nanny the third degree?”
“Aww, honey, I was only asking a few itty bitty questions,” Dixie cooed innocently. “I think I understand a little better why your phone’s been disconnected all day now though.”
“Is that so?” Paul grinned, happy in the knowledge that this would all be getting back to his brother. “Then you’ll understand completely when I do this-” and he hung up.
“Paul! I’m so sorry,” Bridget whispered. Her flushed cheeks had paled to a ghostly white. “I couldn’t think what to say- I didn’t mean- I just-” she couldn’t finish any of those sentences, not with Paul’s mouth claiming her own.
Paul didn’t give a damn that Dixie knew that he was hooking up with his nanny. It hadn’t been explicitly stated but, even without his signoff, his sister-in-law was fiendishly clever at figuring that sort of information out. He was frankly smug that his brother likely knew (precisely .002 seconds after Dixie hung up) that he was about to get laid, and beyond that…well, he had better things to occupy his mind then the consequenc
es of his phone call.
“Bridge?” he murmured into her hair.
“Mmmmm…?”
“I think it’s time for bed.”
Chapter 12
Paul loved that she didn’t fight it. She didn’t play coy or hard to get. She didn’t make him guess about whether she wanted him or not. She simply took his hand and followed eagerly down the hall.
He shut the door behind them, while Bridget walked to the window. She pressed her face against the glass, staring down at the cars below, the park across the street, and the city beyond. “Such a beautiful view…”
“Amen!” Paul answered, unable to resist the temptation of gathering her plump little ass in his hands as he walked up behind her.
Bridget squealed and tried to turn away, but it all played perfectly into his hands. In no time, they were tangled together, limbs entwined so thoroughly that he couldn’t tell him from her.
Tonight, he intended to do this properly, and so he didn’t rush. Paul took his time peeling away their clothes, and then coaxing Bridget onto the mattress so that he could worship her body in all the ways he’d been imagining during his lonely nights.
She was so exquisite, so responsive, so grateful for his tender touch. Paul couldn’t stop running his hands and lips over her body- not until he was too spent to move at all. Even then, he couldn’t go to sleep. It was still too novel lying next to her, staring into her lovely face. He couldn’t bear to shut his eyes.
“Is this real?” Bridget murmured, snuggling closer. The steady rain that had fallen all day had finally built into another storm. The temperature was dropping, and Paul needed to turn the thermostat up…but he had a better method of keeping warm for the time being. He tightened his arms around Bridget.
“I hope so,” he answered back. “Otherwise, I don’t want to wake up.”
It was a cliché line- but effective. Bridget smiled and closed her eyes. He kissed the top of her head, and watched as she fell asleep, marveling at how right she felt! He couldn’t explain it…It was only the second night that she’d spent in his arms, but it seemed like she had belonged there all of her life.
Paul wondered how his life would have been different if he’d had Bridget all along.
He hadn’t thought much about Phoebe in the weeks since she had died. It seemed disrespectful of the dead to ponder his ex-wife when his memories were so unflattering, but he couldn’t continue to avoid the comparison.
Paul recalled, with vivid clarity, the night before his wedding. His older brother Jack had taken him aside.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Wog,” he had said, in his best ‘big brother’ tone, “But…well…why are you marrying that girl?”
He hesitated for a telling moment.
“Because I love her,” Paul finally said. The answer seemed to satisfy his brother’s concerns. Paul never told him that wasn’t the first response that had sprung to his mind.
Because she told me to…
He wondered, years later, if it was possible that both were the truth, or if he’d told his brother a lie. Could what he felt for Phoebe really have been love? It certainly didn’t feel like this.
Chapter 13
“You’re coming with me to D.C.?” Bridget asked, excited but disbelieving. She had spent an entire, magical week with Paul, spending the days exploring the city, and the nights curled up in his bed, but she knew that the clock had to strike midnight at some point. She didn’t trust that this was a permanent change. “You have to go to work, don’t you?” she asked, knowing that she was touching on a sore spot- Paul had shied away from any mention of the restaurant all week- but unable to keep her questions inside.
Once again, Paul’s features twisted into an ugly frown. “I’ll worry about that when I get back,” he answered. “Don’t you want me to come along?”
“Of course I do!” Bridget said quickly. “It will be great- Tad will love it too! It’s such a great surprise!”
“Well, I missed him,” Paul grunted, “and I think he missed me too,” he added, surprised to discover that it was actually true. From the nightly phone calls, he knew that his little boy had an amazing time at Disney World with his cousins, uncle and aunt- but he also knew that the boy was ready to come back home.
Bridget was thrilled to be going to pick Tad up from D.C. She couldn’t wait to see the little boy again. She was also excited and relieved that Paul was so keen to have his son home too, and yet… she was also nervous. Was this the end of her intimate relationship with Paul? Would they fall back into their positions of boss and employee once Tad was home again?
Bridget was hoping to glean some sort of insight from the way that Paul treated her around his family. Were they a couple, just friends, or was she back to being the hired help? She knew that she could, probably should, simply ask Paul where she stood. That way there would be no misunderstandings. She was just terrified that she knew what his answer would be … and she wanted to hold onto her illusions for just as long as she possibly could.
They arrived at Dixie’s place and Bridget was still lost as to knowing where she stood with Paul. He had seemed distracted by something during the journey, and now any opportunity that she had had to ask him what was going on was lost.
“Let me go in first,” she said, smiling at Paul. She wanted to heighten the surprise for Tad.
Having come to realize how important these moments were to Tad, and to Bridget, and maybe even increasingly to himself, Paul nodded his consent. He paid the cabdriver, who had brought them from the airport, while Bridget disappeared inside, leaving the door open for him to follow quietly behind.
Paul half wished that she hadn’t wanted to surprise Tad with his presence, that they could have walked inside together, as a couple, instead of separately. He wanted to be able to show Bridget off, to stamp a very possessive ‘mine’ label on her, which… surprised him actually.
He had never been possessive and jealous with Phoebe, but Bridget brought out a whole new set of emotions in him.
Oh God, was he actually thinking about his emotions?
Paul shrugged it off and strolled inside. He reached his sister-in-law’s kitchen just in time to overhear Bridget saying, “-and I’ve brought a surprise for you with me.”
“DADDY!” Tad shouted gleefully.
The little boy’s excitement was clear for everyone to see (and hear!). He had been sharing a hug with Bridget, but on seeing Paul enter, she popped Tad down on the floor so that he could run over to his dad.
Paul surprised himself, and he was sure everyone that was watching, with the natural ease with which he bent down and scooped Tad into his arms.
“Hey there, champ. How have you been? I hope you’ve been good for your Aunt Dixie?”
“He’s been an angel,” Dixie assured Paul, smiling at him warmly. “With any luck he’ll have rubbed off on mine!”
“No chance,” laughed Drew. Paul hadn’t noticed his older brother walk into the kitchen behind him. “I didn’t know you were coming to pick Tad up, Wog,” he said, eyes alighting the way they only did when he was about to torment his youngest sibling. “Did they have to surgically remove you from your kitchen?”
Paul shifted his weight uneasily.
“I can take a break every once in a while.”
There was a beat of tense silence. It was broken again by Dixie.
“Well, I’m glad you did, sugar!” she told him. “You haven’t been down here in ages. Do you have time to go and see your mama? I’m sure that she’d just-!”
“Dixie,” Drew interrupted, sensing his brother’s discomfort and (for once) looking to alleviate it rather than make it worse. “Don’t smother.”
“Smother? I’m not smothering!” Dixie announced indignantly. She put her hands on her hips and shot her husband a defiant gaze. Dixie was so tiny compared to Drew that it put Bridget in mind of a yapping little dog staring down a Labrador Retriever.
“Get your things, Tad,” Bridget said, seeking to al
leviate the tension. “We have a plane to catch.”
“Oh? Don’t you have time to have a bite to eat?” Dixie said, letting Drew off the hook as she turned to face her guests again. “I know my cooking’s not quite up to standard, but it’s bound to be better than what they serve on airplanes these days!”
“Actually, we don’t,” Bridget said, apologetically. “Our plane leaves in-!”
“A day and a half,” Paul interrupted.
Bridget spun around, astonished, “But I-!”
“-changed the tickets,” Paul said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to rush…besides, Dixie’s right. I should swing by and see Mom and Dad. Mom will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”
“Well, now that sounds sensible!” Dixie said, clearly delighted. “That being the case…who feels like having some fried chicken?”
Bridget was glad that Paul begged off from dinner- even if he had hurt Dixie’s feelings a little bit in the process. She was finally used to eating in front of Paul- but she didn’t want to try it with his whole family just yet!
“Where are we going?” Bridget asked when they all climbed into the cab again. Tad had been yammering excitedly, telling them about his trip, but the rocking of the car soon had him yawning into his hand. They didn’t leave the Beltway before he had fallen fast asleep.
Bridget stroked his hair and looked up when she heard Paul’s answer.
“Downtown…” he answered vaguely, and Bridget nodded her head. She was still confused by his behavior, although not necessarily displeased, especially when they pulled up at a very fancy hotel almost across the street from the White House.
“Paul?” she asked, impressed.
He flashed a smile. “I thought you deserved a treat.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Do I need a reason?” he asked, helping her out of the cab. Her heart skipped a beat when, after paying the driver, he took her hand and led her inside.
“Your name, sir?” the clerk at registration asked when they approached the desk.
“Devoe,” he responded.
“Ah, yes…the St. John’s suite,” the concierge said, handing over the key.
Hungry for More (2012) Page 11
