The Bridgewater Case

by R. C. Martin

  “Does that mean we’re staying in today? Hmm?”

  “I think so,” she tells me, speaking through a grin.

  “Good.”

  DANE AND I stay in bed until we both grow hungry. He then suggests we hop in the shower before heading down to make ourselves a big breakfast—insisting we’ll need the sustenance. After the way he woke me up this morning, I won’t deny that I’m excited about what he’s implying, and I agree to his plan.

  As if we’ve forgotten our hunger, we take our time in the shower. We don’t do anything but touch, and yet it’s the most intimate shower I’ve ever had in my life. When we’re finished, I want so much more—my body buzzing with desire—but I don’t complain as he steps out and hands me a towel. I relish the way he makes me feel and cling to the sexual tension I’m sure will explode later, when he’s inside of me and owning me like only he can.

  We brush our teeth wrapped in our towels. Once we’re finished, he trails after me to the closet, his hands flexing around my waist the entire way. Not wanting to wear anything that’ll cling to me, I grab one of Dane’s undershirts and slip it over my body. It falls just below my ass; and while I have no intension of wearing pants, I decide that for today it’s long enough.

  I’m pulling a pair of panties out of a drawer when Dane surprises me and snatches them out of my hand. My head snaps in his direction to find him in a pair of boxer briefs only, and he shoves my panties back in the drawer before closing it.

  “No panties,” he demands with a smirk.

  “But—”

  He silences me as he reaches down and cups his hand around my bare center. He then mutters, “I want you fully accessible at all times. No panties.”

  The sexual tension I was feeling before goes up a notch, and all I can offer him is a nod. He removes his hand, swatting at my ass when he passes by me, and I’m quick to follow after him, tucking my feet into my slippers as I go.

  God, I’m so in love with this man. I’d walk around naked if he asked me to.

  The first thing I do upon reaching the kitchen is start a pot of coffee. We then take stock of what we have in the fridge and the cupboards before agreeing on French toast and cinnamon baked apples for breakfast. Even though Dane owns not one Christmas decoration, by the time we’re finished preparing our meal, it smells like Christmas, and that’s good enough for me.

  We eat at the kitchen island, sitting side by side on his bar stools. While we don’t speak much, we can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other. With every kiss, every graze of his fingers, or squeeze of his hand, I feel him telling me he loves me. It makes my heart flutter and my stomach clench. And when he looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his, I can’t deny that I’m so happy, I’m not even sure what to do with myself.

  I’m clearing our plates and putting them in the sink when he asks, “Do you want your Christmas gift now or later?”

  My lips part open as I look across the counter at him. My instinct is to say, yes! Of course, I want it now—but I’m also a little nervous. Not about what he may have possibly gotten me, but about whether or not he’ll like what I got him. It’s not easy shopping for the man who has everything. Nevertheless, I did finally manage to think of something a couple of weeks ago. When it arrived, I wrapped it right away, so he wouldn’t be able to tell what it was. Hiding a box that big in his house was also a challenge.

  “Babe?” he asks on a chuckle.

  “You go first,” I blurt, certain I won’t be able to fully appreciate the moment I open his gift if I’m still worried about how he’ll receive his.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I repeat, brushing my hands against each other. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Stay,” he insists with a wink.

  I fight a grin, not at all surprised that he knows exactly where it is. I “hid” it beside the dryer, thinking he wouldn’t be likely to look for anything over there. The vast majority of his clothes go to the dry cleaners. In any case, he’s back less than a minute later, carrying the tall box wrapped in shiny silver and gold paper.

  Maybe it was the big white bow on top that gave it away…

  “If you don’t like it, you can be honest. I still have the receipt, and we can exchange it for something else,” I assure him, coming out of the kitchen to meet him at the dining room table.

  “Babe, relax, will you?”

  I fold my hands together and press them against my lips, nodding as I wait anxiously for him to tear the paper away. When he’s unwrapped it, I hold my breath, my eyes bouncing back and forth between his facial expression and the box. At the sound of his laugh, my anxiety chases away my silence.

  “It’s just a starter kit. I couldn’t really afford, like, the full-blown thing—but I figured you could try it and see if you liked it and if you’d want to make a hobby out of it or something; and then if you did, you could look into the more serious stuff and—”

  I suck in a breath when he turns to face me, sliding one hand around the side of my neck affectionately while clamping his other across my mouth. Grinning, he states, “You bought me a brew kit. Sigourney, it’s perfect.”

  “Really?” I mumble from behind his hand.

  He chuckles, uncovering my mouth so he can bring his lips to meet mine. “I mean it. We’ll mess around with it this weekend. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay,” I hum, circling my arms around his waist as I gaze up at him. “My turn?”

  “Mmhmm.” He leans down like he’s going to kiss me, but just before his lips touch mine, he pinches my ass. I squeak and scoot out of his arms, and he smiles and heads for the stairs. I watch him descend, only to stop at the small table that fits in the corner of his entryway by the door. He likes to drop his keys there when he comes home for the night. His body blocks my view, but I hear it as he slides open the little drawer and pulls something out. Whatever it is, he hides it in his closed palm as he makes his way toward me.

  Instead of stopping, he takes my hand in his and leads me to the couch in his living room. When he sits, he pulls me down into his lap, and I squirm a little as my bare skin makes contact with his. He then holds up his hand, a key held between his thumb and his forefinger. Slightly confused, I look between it and him, wondering what’s happening.

  “This is a key to my house. Obviously, you can get in without it—it’s more of a symbolic gift than anything else. I want you to move in with me. I’m not talking about after the Bridgewater case, I’m not talking about for the sake of your safety—I’m talking about now. I want your home to be my home. I want your shit in my closet, in my bathroom, in my kitchen—hell, we can even get his and hers desks for the office, if you want. Point is, I want you here. Permanently.”

  For a moment, I’m speechless. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I wasn’t expecting that. Yes, we’ve been living together for the last two months, and we’ve been in this house for almost half of that time. Yes, I’ve grown acclimated to sharing his space, but I’ve been very careful to remind myself that it is his space. In the back of my mind, I was always prepared to move home when the time came—regardless of how much I might not like it.

  I know how he feels about marriage. And while this isn’t a proposal, it’s only one step removed, really. Commitment to him is complicated. We’ve never talked about living together—not outside of the circumstances we find ourselves in now; not in a time when we’re not being threatened and attacked. Heather and Rupert, who have been together for years, not even they live together. She and Dane are so much alike; and the pain Allen caused them, it’s a pain they share. I just assumed—

  “Sigourney?”

  I shake my head clear, my gaze locking with his. Staring back at me is a man who is certain. A man who loves me. A man who wants me. In an instant, I know there is only one answer. As much as he’ll give me, I’ll take. Always.

  “Yes,” I breathe, the wo
rd falling from my lips without another thought. “I mean, I have a lease, and stuff and—”

  “We’ll deal with the lease. And your stuff? Babe—no offense, but we don’t need your stuff. I’ve got better stuff.”

  Laughing, I rest my forehead against his and murmur, “You do have better stuff.”

  “We. We have better stuff,” he insists, handing me the key.

  It isn’t until I take the it that I realize it’s attached to a ring. The fob connected to the same ring was hidden in his palm. I gasp, my jaw falling wide open as my back straightens. The imprint along the side reads RANGE ROVER, and I have to remind myself that Dane does not drive a Range Rover. He drives a Benz.

  “You—you drive a Benz.”

  “Yes. I do,” he replies with a smirk.

  “Dane! You drive a Benz!”

  “Sigourney—you drive a Rover.”

  “You bought me a car?!” I squeal.

  Nodding his head behind us, he suggests, “Why don’t you look out the window.”

  “You’re joking,” I insist, still firmly planted in his lap.

  “Babe, look out the window.”

  I’m up before he can finish his sentence and across the room in an instant. I skid to a stop once I’ve rounded the dining room table, and I clap my hand against the window when I see it. Right there, in the driveway, with a big red bow on the hood, is my new, white, SUV.

  Holy shit! I drive an SUV.

  I jump when I feel Dane’s hands grip my waist, and I’m quick to turn to face him.

  “You bought me a car!”

  “I believe I told you I would.”

  “I thought you were giving me shit! Dane Laurel Croft, I can’t believe you.” My eyes growing misty with tears, I add, “Thank you.”

  Holding me close, he dips his head so he’s closer when he whispers, “You never ask me for anything. It makes me want to give you everything. You’re mine, Sigourney.”

  I lean into him, circling my arms around his middle, wanting him as close as possible. Tilting my head back slightly, I position my lips directly below his and whisper, “Tell me you love me.”

  “Sigourney Petunia Salenger—I love you.”

  Damn—my name has never sounded so sexy.

  “I love you, too,” I mumble as he presses his mouth to mine. “So much.”

  from: Sigourney Salenger

  to: Ellery Reinhart

  date: Wed, Dec 25, 2019 at 4:47pm

  subject: I’ll call you later!!!! But for now…

  I’m hopelessly in love with my esquire…

  Sally

  P.S. I’m moving in with Dane. Like, for real. No more temporary move-home date. I am home.

  P.P.S. He bought me a freaking RANGE ROVER EVOQUE!!!!!! He’s insane. And I love him so much.

  AS MUCH AS I love my job, and as much as I know that Dane and I need to go back to the office, the first Monday of the New Year comes too fast. We haven’t been back since the night Dane was taken to the hospital after his attack. For a solid week, he didn’t work at all. Then, after Christmas, he worked sparingly. Things were quiet, and I had him to myself. It was marvelous.

  We stayed home, mostly. The snow hit a couple of days after Christmas, and it gave us an excuse to stay inside. We listened to his albums and brewed beer while he helped me study for the bar. He did the latter begrudgingly, insisting that I’m over prepared and completely ready to pass with flying colors. I put in the work anyway, knowing that over confidence is exactly what I need when I walk into the room in only four weeks. If I go in with more than enough, maybe I’ll walk out with some left over.

  After reviewing the terms of my lease, we decided we’d keep my apartment for another two months and break my agreement at the six-month mark. Dane has already informed me that he’ll be covering the fine, and I’m not to worry about a thing. I didn’t have a ton of belongings left over there, but we did spend a couple of hours one afternoon packing up what I plan on keeping. Now, even though the apartment is still in my name, it doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.

  I started this year in a new home, with a new car, and a new love. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I’m without a doubt that moving to Colorado was the best decision I could have possibly made for myself. I really do have Ellery and Pryce to thank for convincing me—even if what they’re going through makes me wish I was back at home.

  “Babe,” Dane mumbles, his lips pressed against the back of my head.

  I suck in a breath, lifting my eyes to find his in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Most of the bruising and all of the swelling in his face is gone now. While he’ll always be handsome to me, I’m glad he’s back to looking like himself.

  “You’re zoning out again.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

  The day after Christmas, Ellery got her period. Turns out, the at-home test she took was a false positive. The doctor told her that with all the stress she’s been under, her body was just reacting. Unfortunately, the length of her delayed period was long enough to get her hopes up.

  “I hate that they’re going through this; that after they made the decision to keep the baby—god, it wasn’t even a baby.”

  He doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, he slips his arm around my middle, holding me against him as I let my mind play out the cycle of thoughts I’ve been thinking for the last week. I’m not even completely sure what Ellery wants to do next. Or what Pryce wants. I think they’re both dealing with the shock of it all.

  “I just wish there was something I could do, you know?” I whisper.

  Dane gives me a squeeze and replies, “Even if you were there instead of here, this isn’t the type of situation you can fix.”

  “I know…”

  A small smile graces my lips. Even though he’s yet to meet my family and bear witness to my relationships with Ellery and Pryce, I feel lovingly cared for with his unwavering support and comfort. He’s so much sweeter than I thought him capable of being on the first day we met. Though, I still maintain that he is incredibly lickable. He also tastes delicious.

  “Finish up,” he insists, backing away from me. “We leave in five minutes.”

  “You’re awfully bossy for a passenger,” I tease, looking over my shoulder at him with a grin.

  “That ends today. The Benz comes home tonight, and then we’ll be riding in my vehicle.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I reply with a laugh before returning my focus to the mirror. I put on the finishing touches to my makeup and then return to the closet to slip into my shoes. Dane helps me into my coat, and then we’re out the door.

  It isn’t until I pull into the parking garage that I start to feel anxious. My mind floods with the memory of seeing Dane in the hospital after Ava called me. Then, later that night, when I saw him naked, covered in bruises that would only get worse before they got better, it intensified my fear. I’ve seen what these men are capable of—whoever these men are. Regardless of how safe I feel with Dane, it doesn’t make me less worried about what could happen over the course of the next month as we await this trial date. Not to mention, here is where I feel the least protected. It was Ava who went through my desk and found the letter to give to the police.

  “You’re trembling,” Dane murmurs, reaching over to place a hand over mine on the steering wheel.

  “We’re arriving to work together, but you have court this week and client appointments, too.”

  “We’ll be fine, Sigourney. Security measures have been handled. Think of today as an ordinary day. That’s what it is.”

  I nod, even though my stomach is still knotted with nerves. Deep down, I know if I let my fear and worry get in the way of my job, then they’ve already won. Not wishing to give them that satisfaction, I turn my hand over and wrap my fingers around Dane’s. Offering him a small smile, I ask, “Your usual this morning?”

  “We’ll go together.”

>   “No, you go upstairs. I want to do this. I need to.”

  He studies me for a moment, then leans across the center console to kiss my lips. “Very well. I’ll see you in a few.”

  My trip to The Grind and back is uneventful, as it should be. As soon as I get into the office and settle myself behind my desk, I slip into my usual routine like I’m slipping into my favorite pair of shoes. The tasks of the day are the perfect distractions from all the thoughts in the back of my mind that have me bothered. Two and a half weeks at home, coupled with all that happened, had me forgetting I’m here for a reason. For now, I’m precisely where I belong, and no one can take that from me if I don’t let them.

  When Ava invites me to lunch, I’m quick to accept her offer. I feel as though I haven’t seen her in ages, and I’ve missed her. Over our meal, we catch each other up on all that’s happened since we last spoke. It’s amazing to have a little girl time and to be able to gush about all the good things that have come about. Except, I can tell what Ava and I really need is a night in with a bottle of wine. She’s got a secret she’s not telling me, and I can see it in her pretty brown eyes.

  On our return trip to the office, our arms linked together in an effort to stay close and warm, Ava finally admits, “So, I’m not moving in with a gorgeous man who bought me a car, but I might have met someone at a New Years Eve party I went to.”

  “Ava!” I cry, hugging her arm tighter. “I cannot believe you’re just now telling me this. This should have been topic number one.”

  Laughing, she tells me, “I don’t want to make more of it than what it is.”

  “Did he kiss you? What’s his name? What does he look like?”

  “Well,” she begins shyly.

  I stare at her, slack jawed.

  Ava is never bashful.