The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series)

by Sawyer Bennett

  Oh my God, he’s so beautiful. He’s let his hair grow. It’s maybe half an inch in length now and looks darker than it did when it was longer. Again, I marvel at how his shortened hair makes the beauty of his face shine through, including the hard set to his jaw as his gaze flicks down to Ted before coming back to me. He’s so classically Bridger in jeans, heavy biker boots, a dark gray shirt, and a black leather jacket, completely inappropriate for this type of restaurant. Ted actually wore khaki pants, a white dress shirt, and navy blazer with a red-and-blue striped tie. It’s so boring compared to the man coming up behind him.

  And that’s when the reality sets in, and I realize the hard set to Bridger’s jaw has everything to do with Ted sitting at this table with me.

  “Maggie?” Ted asks curiously, and because I’m still looking at Bridger behind him, he finally turns around in his seat to see what has my attention.

  “Dude,” Ted says affectionately when he sees Bridger, clearly disregarding the menacing look he’s getting. Ted stands from his chair, puts his hand out to Bridger, and says, “Welcome back, boss. What are you doing here?”

  Bridger ignores Ted’s hand, brushes right past him, and comes to stand at the table beside me. I vaguely notice Ted sitting back down in his chair, but it’s only from my periphery as my head is tilted way back to look at Bridger towering over me.

  “We need to talk,” he says gruffly. “Let’s go.”

  I’m absolutely humiliated and pissed off at myself when my first inclination is to bolt out of the chair and follow Bridger out of this restaurant. But I’m redeemed in my own eyes when I just as quickly feel my spine stiffen and a flush of anger go through me that he would dare demand me to do anything. He doesn’t own me, nor does he have any say so in my life whatsoever.

  “I’ll pass,” I say politely before turning my attention back to Ted. I give him a reassuring smile as I pick up the menu. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to eat.”

  Ted’s not falling into line though. His gaze cuts between Bridger and me, with his face awash with confusion.

  “Mags,” Bridger says in a warning tone. “I need to talk to you.”

  I put the menu down and my head snaps up to look at him. “Then you can wait until an appropriate time to do so. As you can see, I’m on a date. It’s not the best time to talk.”

  “Take off, Ted,” Bridger growls, and Ted’s butt comes off the chair.

  I snap my attention to Ted. “You… stay in that seat. We’re on a date.”

  His ass hits the seat.

  My eyes cut back up to Bridger and narrow. “Now you’re being unbelievably rude. You should leave.”

  “Not going to leave until we talk, Mags,” he says, and fuck… his voice is now all gentle and mellow. Hypnotizing. And my name… I’m still Mags to him.

  With a sigh, I give Bridger an understanding look. “Listen… I’m on a date. Ted is not going anywhere—”

  I’m stunned when Bridger turns away from me, glances around, and then takes two steps to the nearest table that seats four with only three people sitting there.

  “Mind if I borrow this?” Bridger mutters and grabs a chair, sliding it over to our little table for two. He pulls it right up to the edge, him on my left and to the right of Ted, but he angles the chair so it faces me slightly.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss as I lean toward him.

  “Talking to you,” Bridger says simply, and I want to slap him when his lips tilt up in an amused smile. “Ted can listen for all I give a fuck, but I have to talk to you right now.”

  “Bridger,” I say in exasperation.

  “I love you,” he says at the same time.

  My eyebrows shoot sky high, and Ted mumbles, “Okay, that’s awkward.”

  My jaw drops, and I tilt my head. Did I just hear that?

  Ted pushes his chair away from the table, and my head snaps his way. “Maggie… I’m going to go…”

  “No,” I exclaim, reaching a hand out even though I don’t really mean it. I want to hear more of what Bridger has to say.

  “Yes,” Ted says firmly. His eyes cut to Bridger, who hasn’t even spared him a glance. He’s staring at me expectantly. When Ted looks back to me, he gives me an understanding smile and nods his head. “That dude right there loves you. You need to hear what he has to say.”

  “But…” I start to say, but my words die off. He’s right. I need to hear this.

  Not sure what I’ll do with it, but I have to listen. Because for him to walk in, bust up a date, and publicly proclaim he loves me after ditching me six weeks ago demands a little of my attention.

  Ted gives me a small smile. Before he turns away, he says, “You two enjoy that wine. I’ll pay for it on the way out.”

  I watch him walk out of the restaurant and feel guilty as shit while I do. Finally, I turn my face back to Bridger and give him an admonishing look. “That was seriously rude.”

  “Do I look like the type of man who gives a fuck?” he asks.

  “No,” I say primly as I pick back up my wine and take a large swallow. When I set the glass back down, I say, “You look like a ghost from my past—one I really never expected to see again.”

  “Come on, Mags,” he says softly. “You had to know I’d come back.”

  “Maybe,” I admit grudgingly. “But I didn’t think our first conversation would go this way.”

  “Never thought you’d hear me say ‘I love you’?”

  “Yeah,” I admit with my eyes lowered. “It’s kind of shocking. And quite possibly a little too late.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Bridger says confidently, and my eyes slam into his while flaming with anger.

  “Bridger… you left me behind weeks ago. Six fucking weeks ago to be exact, with nothing more than a measly note that said ‘I’m sorry’. I’ve not heard a word from you, but you come waltzing back into my life as if nothing’s changed. You don’t think you might have missed your opportunity?”

  He looks appropriately chastened. “Fuck, I hope not, Mags. I really hope to fuck you give me another shot.”

  “Why should I?” I grit out and fold my arms over my chest.

  Bridger opens his mouth, clearly ready to convince me, but we’re interrupted by the waiter. He looks completely confused but graciously says, “Sir… can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I don’t want anything to drink,” Bridger growls. “Leave us the fuck alone for five minutes, okay?”

  The waiter nods stiffly and scurries away. Bridger’s eyes follow him for a moment, and then he turns back to me with a frustrated sigh. “Look… can we go somewhere else? My car would be fine, but we should talk in private.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “You had no problem spilling your guts in front of Ted.”

  “Mags, please,” he says.

  I’m convinced that’s probably the first time Bridger’s ever begged for anything in his life. “Okay,” I say with a nod and stand up from the table. Bridger stands along with me, his eyes shining with immense relief.

  Bridger and I walk out of the restaurant, his hand at my lower back. Just that little touch and I feel my resolve where he’s concerned weakening. He gently steers me to his Corvette and opens the door for me. When I settle in, he shuts it gently and walks around to the driver’s side. I take a moment to look at him in the glow of the parking lot lights. He’s walking with his shoulders hunched and his head hung low.

  And fuck me if that doesn’t break my heart a little.

  But then again, I knew there were a million things about Bridger that could break my heart.

  When he situates himself in the driver’s seat, he turns and angles himself toward me. I wait patiently as he looks down at his hands, clasped loosely in his lap, and then up to me. “Telling you I love you should have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but I just found out that it was one of the easiest. Trust me, Maggie… I’m kicking myself about a hundred different ways for not doing this a lot sooner
.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. He’s twice now said he loves me, and the overwhelming sensation of joy and peace that fills me is surreal. But I’m also hurt, and I don’t understand anything.

  I need to understand.

  “Why now?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Honestly?”

  I nod.

  “Woolf told me you were going on a date,” Bridger admits without an ounce of shame in his eyes. “It was the motivator I needed to make the decision to grab a hold of what I really wanted. It was what made me push past the fear.”

  “Fear?”

  Bridger looks slightly uncomfortable, but he leans in a little closer to me. Reaching out, he takes my hand in his and looks down at it, his fingers stroking softly over my skin. With his face lowered, he murmurs in a low voice, “I had a terrible childhood, Maggie. It was so horrible, I’m afraid to tell you about it because I don’t want you to be hurt, and I know you’d hurt for me.”

  The hair at the back of my neck prickles as Bridger raises his face, his eyes locking on mine.

  “But I am going to tell you,” he says softly. “Because you need to know everything about me. Only one other person in the world knows what I’m getting ready to tell you.”

  “Adrian,” I say knowingly.

  “Yes, Adrian,” he affirms.

  Then, he leans in even closer, his hand never letting go of mine. In a pained murmur, he tells me all about his childhood. My stomach rolls as I listen to his words. Tears fill up my eyes. On the first blink, they course down my face. Bridger reaches up with a free hand and wipes them away as soon as they fall. He repeats this four times while he tells me about what his stepmom did to him, how he almost killed her, and how he lived on the streets prostituting himself. I smile when he tells me about Adrian and becoming emancipated, and then smile more when he tells me about meeting Woolf, but then cry again when he tells me about getting kicked out of college.

  Bridger tells me about coming to Jackson and working on the Double J for years while Woolf finished college, and about how they hatched the plan to open The Silo. Without any shame or apology, he tells me what The Silo means to him and why it’s so important.

  “And the BDSM,” he says in continuation of his story. “I really got into that in college and found an affinity for that type of kink. I enjoyed being the one to hand out the pain, but it was healing in a way because the other person truly wanted it and got sexual gratification from it.”

  “It was the opposite of what you’d experienced as a kid,” I whisper.

  He nods. “Yeah… the BDSM and the debauchery that goes on in The Silo. I needed that so much. It was affirmation to me every day that sex is good, beautiful, and without shame. That I can fuck, get sucked, whip a woman, or any other manner of kink I wanted, and still hold my head up high at the end of the night because I was in a place where it was accepted. It was what I needed so I could believe I’d survived what she did to me and wasn’t completely and utterly fucked up.”

  “Then I’m glad you have just such a place, Bridger,” I say with an understanding smile. “I’m glad it helped you heal, and that you have it now so you will always have that affirmation.”

  Bridger shakes his head. “No, you see… I may have needed that before, but I don’t anymore. The minute I said I love you, and realized just how fucking easy it was, I’m pretty fucking sure the only thing I need in my life is you. With you comes Belle, and I love her too.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask hesitantly.

  “I’m saying I’ll give up The Silo. Sell it or close it down, as long as I have you. You are what makes my life complete, not the shit that goes on in that building.”

  “I… I… I don’t know what to say,” I tell Bridger honestly. He’s laid so much on my doorstep, and he had me hook, line, and sinker until he said that last part about giving up The Silo. I know down to the depth of my soul that I can accept everything Bridger just told me about his life. I’ll grieve for that little boy and all he’s lost, but I would take Bridger with every single piece of dirty baggage that comes with him.

  Except… I don’t know if giving up The Silo is really the right thing. It’s an integral part of his life, and I think he might still need it. I’m also not sure how I feel about it. It’s his place of work, but could I really accept that? Could I let him work in that environment day in and day out and not have my doubts?

  “Bridger,” I say as I gather both of his hands in mine and squeeze them. “Thank you for telling me the truth about your life. The fact you’d share something like that with me… that you’d trust me with that… speaks volumes. But I really need some time to digest all of this. I’d just reconciled myself to give up on you, and now here you are laying an overload of stuff on me.”

  With a small nod of understanding tempered with slight disappointment in his eyes, he says, “I get it. And I’ll give you time, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep pestering you about this. I want you, Maggie, and I’m not giving up until you agree to be mine. I want you and Belle to be my family, and I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I’d even gladly hold onto every shitty memory I have in my life if it means I can have you there to temper it. I can do anything with you by my side, Mags. I need you.”

  God… my heart fills with so much happiness that it actually compresses my lungs so I can’t breathe. He looks at me so earnestly and with such naked devotion in his eyes that I go dizzy from the wealth of emotion coursing through me.

  Still, I manage to say, “Give me some time.”

  He nods again, squeezes my hands. “I will. But you are not going out with Ted, right?”

  “Right,” I promise him.

  “Good,” he says with a smile. “Now… let me take you to your place.”

  He then drives me home, giving me just a kiss on my cheek after he walks me to my apartment door, and then leaves with a soft, “Don’t forget, Maggie. I love you.”

  My heart sighs with abandon, and I’m pretty sure its mind is already made up. I just have to figure out if that’s really the best thing for me.

  Chapter 29

  Bridger

  It’s been three days since I drove Maggie home from the restaurant, and I felt it went about as good as it could have gone. I did something that was scarier than anything that’s ever happened to me in my entire life.

  I bared my soul to Maggie and then I offered it to her.

  I offered every bruised and sliced piece of it, as well as the parts that had already healed, and I hope to fuck she accepts it at some point.

  As Adrian advised, I’m not giving up. I have indeed pestered her the last few days.

  First order of business was to get her cell phone number. That was easy enough by accessing her employment records.

  It’s good to be the boss.

  I sent her a text the day after I told her I love her, and I reminded her in case she forgot. I love you.

  Smart-ass that she was, she texted back almost immediately. Ted?

  Going to spank your ass if you give me a second chance, I wrote back.

  She only sent me a smiley face, and that was good enough for me because let’s face it, she has every right to tell me to go fuck myself.

  And yeah, Ted was not going to be a problem going forward. I confronted him the next day when I made my way into The Wicked Horse by jerking my chin at him and then toward my office. He got the hint and followed me straight back.

  And when I say confront, I wasn’t an ass or anything. In fact, I didn’t have to really say anything at all as Ted spoke first and said, “You don’t have to say it, Bridger. I’m backing down.”

  “Good,” I said with a smile. “Prevents me from firing you.”

  “You’d never fire your best Fantasy Maker,” he scoffed.

  And he’s right about that. He’s given up on Maggie and keeps plenty of people happy at The Silo, so I’m not firing him.

  The second day, I actually called Maggie f
rom my office at the back of The Wicked Horse and was surprised when she answered with, “I can’t talk now. I’m at work.”

  “You work for me,” I reminded her as I pushed out of my desk chair and walked to my office door.

  “Even more reason why I can’t talk because clearly… the boss is onto me,” she said impishly.

  By this time, I’d made it down the hallway to the main portion of The Wicked Horse, scanning the interior for Maggie. I saw her standing at the end of the bar, phone to her ear and smiling at me.

  I smiled back and said, “Just wanted to remind you that I love you.”

  And fuck… the sigh I heard on the other end and watching her chest heave before relaxing punched straight through to my cock. I disconnected and turned around. Went back to my office and jacked off to the memory of the first time I came in Maggie’s pussy without a condom.

  Today, I decided to up my game. Clearly, Maggie was not pissed at me, as evidenced by the humor that came through in our communications. But I needed to press harder. Since she hasn’t rolled over yet and proclaimed her love for me, that meant she was still thinking things through and I didn’t want her getting stuck in her head.

  So I dial her number and wait for her to answer. She’s not on duty right now, so no clue where she is when she answers breathlessly, “What’s up?”

  I then hear her huffing and puffing into the phone.

  “What are you doing?” I ask curiously.

  “Having sex with Ted,” she quips.

  “Not fucking funny,” I growl, and she bursts out into laughter that’s stilted because she’s breathing heavily. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face. “No, seriously… what are you doing?”

  “Belle and I just got done rolling the biggest snowball in the history of snowballs,” she explains. “It’s the base to our snowman, and I’m about to die.”

  Fuck… the image of Maggie and Belle, dressed in their snow gear, cheeks all rosy from the cold and laughing with delight as they played in the snow… yeah, that causes an ache in the center of my chest. I want to demand she tell me where they are so I can come and play with them too.