Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

  Her words sound almost as sterile as her hospital, but the smirk playing at the corner of her mouth taunts me. “Actually…” I say, not taking my eyes off hers, “we were practically married.”

  Her reaction is slight, but I catch it before she hides it away and then she turns to Gramps. “But he blew it.”

  For an old guy, Gramps has all his faculties, and he’s lived more and done more than anyone I know, so this routine doesn’t faze him. “Way to go, Romeo. Guess you’re kicking yourself now.” He runs his thumb and index finger down the length of his silver mustache, half hiding his smirk.

  “Thanks, Gramps.” He gives me a nod as I continue. “Mollie's here to check on Belle. She's the nurse who helped her at the hospital.”

  “Maui gave me a braid and a bracelet.” Belle holds up her wrist, showing the one Mollie gave her along with a plastic pink one from the game.

  “Mol-lie,” Gramps says, looking at Belle.

  “Mau-lee.”

  We all hold in our laughter, and Gramps looks at Mollie. “I accused the little shyster of cheating with that bracelet.” Then he taps Belle on the boot. “Forgive me, my love.”

  Belle is too fascinated with Mollie to notice what Gramps said. She fingers the bracelets on Mollie’s wrist, only one of which is colorful like the one she gave Belle. The others are black and silver beaded, which seem to fit her personality.

  Mollie gently removes Belle’s hand from her wrist and rises from the bed. She tugs at the hem of her shirt and smooths it out. “I have to go, but—”

  “No, not yet,” Belle whines. She reaches for Mollie, who takes her hand.

  “How about if I come back another time and play your game with you?”

  I cringe because Gramps has been on all of us for giving in to Belle’s whining, but he doesn’t say a word.

  “Yay. L-Logan will play too.”

  She beams at Belle, but her eyes turn to me for a second, long enough to know the idea of seeing me again doesn’t seem too terrible to her. When she turns back to them to say goodbye, I notice a tiny indention on her cheek when she smiles. It’s not so pronounced that you’d notice it with just any grin. She’d have to let loose a big one for it to really be seen.

  I walk her back to the door, and we stand in the foyer. She fiddles with her bracelets, turning her wrist face up. I spot the music notes I saw at the hospital and am dying to know what music she likes.

  “Thanks for not making it hard on me for coming unannounced.”

  I wait for her eyes to meet mine. “Thanks for keeping an open mind about Belle…and me…I mean us. My family.”

  “To be honest, I haven’t totally made up my mind. This wasn’t some exam I expected you to pass or fail. I’m vested now. I can’t just turn away and hope for the best.”

  My chest tightens at the emotion in her voice. At the amazing, caring person she is. “I know that.” I know she cares about Belle, but it’s more than that. And I don’t only mean me. I know now it’s our whole family. She’s pulling for us. I can feel it.

  Chapter 4

  Mollie

  I drive with the windows down the whole way home from Logan's house. The wind whipping in my face gives me a jolt of adrenaline. Yep, it’s the wind doing that. Thoughts swirl and my head lightens so I roll up the window half-way. Maybe I hit the gym too hard. Maybe I’m dehydrated. But I know it’s much more than that. Dammit, why did I have to be there that day? He obviously doesn’t remember me, and I know that shouldn’t bother me but it does. And now, I’m mixed up in this situation, and I don’t know what to do. It's not in me to walk away, and I hate that this unmerciful pull took over and made me feel weak. Not to mention what his dark, tortured eyes do to me. And his powerful presence. But I’ll be damned if I let that affect my judgement. I just have to focus on the now and forget about everything else.

  I pull into the driveway and jog up to my front door, knowing Rocky is probably dying to get out. As I slip the key into the door, I wonder why I don't hear the usual heavy breath shooting from his nose through the crack in the door.

  When I open it, I gasp but my startle is quickly replaced with a smile I can't contain.

  Rocky is belly up on the couch, with his tongue lolling out, enjoying a vigorous rub.

  “Lou, what are you doing here?”

  “Hello, dear. I thought you had the day off.”

  I shut the door, drop my bag on the ground, and sit next to Rocky. “Remember we talked about my hide-a-key being for emergencies only?”

  “This is an emergency,” Lou says, taking Rocky’s snout in her brown-spotted hands. She leans closer to him and acts as though she is talking to him. “My boy here was getting lonely. I could see his sad eyes staring out the window when I was sitting out front.” Louise is my neighbor of the senior citizen variety.

  I snap my fingers and point to the ground to get Rocky’s attention. “Down.” He jumps off the couch and sits at my feet. I turn to Louise where she sits, avoiding my gaze. “So why were you sitting out front? Tired of that beautiful garden we set up in your backyard?”

  Lou folds her arms across her chest and purses her lips as she does when she’s about to lay down one of her confessions that sound, coincidentally, like deflection. “If you must know…I got locked out.” Her eyes pierce me with a challenging look that says go for it. “I went to get the paper because that lazy little paper person can’t seem to find my porch, and the door blew shut.”

  I don’t have the mental energy to deal with this right now, but then again, I’m also not stoked about scaling her roof and climbing into her bathroom window like I did last time.

  When I don’t answer, she releases a stiff hold on herself and rests her palms on her legs. “I was going to go across the street and ask Mr. Simmons to help me but it’s trash day.”

  I let out a breath and a giggle along with it. “And that’s not good for anyone.”

  Mr. Simmons has a habit of forgetting his pants. He drags the trash to the curb in his boxers, waters his plants in the afternoon that way, and even stands at his mailbox filtering through his mail sporting that thin plaid material.

  “I’m sorry to be a bother to you, Mollie. It’s just that I—”

  I put my hand over hers to stop her. “I know, Lou.” I nod and get up from the couch. “Let’s go see what we can do. And then we’re going to get an extra key made that you can keep here at my place.”

  Lou’s relief is displayed on her weathered face, and when she stands, I can tell she wants to give me a hug. But instead, she declares, “Well that’s only fair now, isn’t it? I have your key and now you’ll have mine.” That look enters her eyes and she takes in a prepared breath. “Course that takes our relationship to another level. Will you expect me to house sit? Walk your dog? Pick you up from the airport? Hang around like some side kick on a sitcom—”

  I hold up both hands in surrender. What have I gotten myself into? I can’t believe she had enough air for that, but it seems to be her trademark. I have always been one of those people in the neighborhood who keeps to themselves. I don’t want to be the “have everyone over for dinner” or “let’s housesit each other’s places while were on vacay” kind of person. “One thing at a time, girl.” I convince myself that Lou is the exception. How can you not feel bad for someone who just lost their husband? But if she thinks I’m going to start hanging out with her and Mr. Boxer Briefs at a barbecue she’s got another thing coming.

  We leave Rocky in the house and head next-door for our next adventure of breaking and entering. Before I start scaling fences, I decide to check the backyard first. The small garden I’d helped her cultivate over the last few weeks brightens her small space. A floral scent traipses under my nose with the cool breeze. I check the kitchen window first and it’s locked, but I give it a good shaking just in case. Then I pass the sliding glass door and move toward the side of the house where I had climbed on the brick wall last time to gain access to a second-floor window. I glance up, shielding
my eyes from the sun with my hand, and it looks like the window is closed. I turn back and see Lou watering some petunias and I plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

  “What’s wrong?” She sets the can down on the ground. “I’m sorry, did you need my help?”

  I shake my head and feel like a mother with a child, only Louise is old enough to be my grandmother and probably in her early seventies. “Let’s just try the front and if we can’t get in, we might have to call someone this time.” I wait for her to walk back over and as she heads back toward the gate, I fall in line behind her. But then I stop and am needled by a thought. I turn on my heel and go back to the sliding glass door. I pull on the handle and the door slides open with ease. I release an exaggerated sigh. “Lou!”

  She comes around the corner and sees the open door. “Oh, wonderful!”

  “No, not wonderful,” I say, trying to keep my voice from rising. “Why didn’t you check this door, number one? And number two, you need to be more careful about keeping your doors locked.”

  “Well, make up your mind. Do you want it locked or not?”

  And this is why I spend very little time around my mother, or pretty much people in general. “It’s not safe for you living alone,” I say as I follow her into the house and slide the door closed behind me.

  “You’re living alone.” She enters the kitchen and glances around as if checking that everything is fine.

  “Yes, but I can take care of myself and you’re…well you’re…”

  “What? Weak? Old? A widow? Helpless? I mean, what were you thinking? I can take it.”

  “Lou, please.” My voice is clipped, but I toss her a quick grin. “I’m sorry. You’re not…old. I’m just used to taking care of myself. And I can defend myself too. And—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m still considering it.”

  I’ve been prodding Lou to come to my gym where they hold self-defense classes each month. “It’s actually fun and a great work out.”

  “I have my mace that Bart gave me.” She pats her heart and looks up quickly. “Rest his soul…the stubborn bastard.” She opens the fridge and tells me, “Have a seat. The least I can do is make you some lunch.”

  I glance over my shoulder and hesitate a moment. “I should really…”

  “Nonsense. I know you’re off today…”

  “Right.” I take the seat and mentally pull up my to-do list. Being single, living alone, with no family in the area and almost no friends…yeah, I’m swamped with stuff. That doesn’t mean I want to hang with Betty White over here.

  She shoots me a knowing glance and points a finger at me. “You need more home-cooked meals.”

  “I cook.” Sure, I only have four choices I rotate through every week, but I can do more than boil water.

  “Trust me, I know it's not easy to cook for just one person.” I watch her take in a slow breath and divert her eyes back inside the fridge as if there were a multitude of choices. “For a while, the Meals on Wheels folks brought me some nice dinners, but I didn't like feeling so dependent.” She bends over and pulls open a drawer. “But cooking for two, I can do,” she says on a high note.

  It's not that Lou is a terrible cook; I'm not in the mood for her Good Housekeeping recipe of meatloaf or beef stroganoff.

  “Actually, I should probably get back to—” I stop myself when she closes the drawer and turns to me with a dejected look on her face. I stand and smile. “Why don't we grab some pizza instead and then we can have the key made?”

  She closes the door and places a fist on her hip, but I can see in her eyes I’ve already won. “Sure, pizza sounds dandy. But it's my treat and I get to pick the place.”

  “Where did you have in mind?”

  “Best pizza place in Ventura. Bart and I used to go there every Saturday night, and when he got sick, we had it delivered.”

  As we head back to my place to grab my keys and purse and take Rocky for a potty break, all I can think is that I have a lunch date with someone who uses the word dandy and probably fantasizes about Clint Eastwood.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at Pepitos. Some of the staff at the hospital have mentioned it before, but I’ve never given it a try. When we walk in, there's a bit of a line to order, so we take our place and as we stand there, my mind wanders back to Logan. In high school, he was so confident. He seemed so sure of every move he made and comfortable in his own skin. I know what he’s been through since then, and I can tell it’s changed him some. But when his eyes met mine, I sensed a certain confidence still there. And the looks he kept giving me confused the hell out of me because he should have been on the defensive the whole time with how I’d attacked him and his family. Instead, he softened instantly, and it was almost like he was glad to see me or something, and I have to admit it felt a little bit…dandy.

  I feel a nudge on my elbow and realize Lou is trying to get me to fill the empty space in front of me from the line moving forward. “Sorry, I guess I spaced for a moment.”

  She gives me a slow nod. “Thinking about anyone special?”

  I grab the end of my ponytail and twist it around my fingers. “Just trying to decide what to order.” I gaze up at the menu casually. “What’s your fav?”

  “Was it that handsome doctor I saw you talking to in your driveway?”

  My jaw drops and I swing my head back to her. “Lou! Were you spying on me?” Mortified doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about there being a witness to the disaster that was that relationship. Okay, relationship it was not. I’d actually thought I’d stricken that from my memory banks.

  “No, I heard a car and looked out the window. Just like my beloved Bart used to do.” Her eyes go wide, and she places a hand on her heart, playing the innocent card with a dash of pity.

  I roll my eyes and step up in the line. “I'm not seeing anyone right now.”

  “Why not? You're young, smart, beautiful, have a great—”

  I put my hand on her arm to stop her from going on and on. I smile, not because I believe her words but because she says them with such sincerity I know she believes them. “It's just not a good time for me right now. I have a lot going on.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “Who? Who says that?”

  She shrugs and nudges me forward.

  We’re almost to the front so I turn to face forward.

  Then she says, “I don’t know…people. Single people, guarded people, lonely people, workaholics…”

  Could I pretend I haven’t heard her?

  “…people hiding from the opposite sex.”

  “I'm not hiding,” I throw over my shoulder. I'm not sure why I feel the need to defend myself in front of her, but I quickly begin spewing an argument before I can stop myself. “I have plenty of male friends,” I say with a quick flip of my head before turning back to the front. Then I turn halfway with a thought to quiet her down. “In fact, I just connected with one from high school.”

  She brightens and touches me on the arm. “Oh? Do tell. What’s his name?”

  Gah! Backfire. I roll my eyes and turn forward again. “Lou…”

  A throat clears before a deep voice says, “I think I know.”

  I freeze. It couldn’t be. My cheeks warm, but I know I have to turn around, so I do so slowly, casually. Before I have a chance to put words to my awkwardness, he’s got his hand out to Lou.

  “Hi, I’m Logan, Logan Bridges.”

  “Logan?” She takes his hand with a look of surprise. “I know exactly who you are.”

  Logan points his shit-eating grin in my direction, and I want to blow his ego right out of the water. I’d never mentioned him to Lou so I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about.

  “Really?” he says and then releases her hand. “I hope you’ve heard good things.”

  My head shrinks back like a turtle, and I pull my eyebrows together, hoping to convey my wasn’t me face.

  “I have,” Lou tells him an
d then glances at me.

  I decide it’s the perfect time to get my wallet out, so I dig inside my purse and silently curse the guy in front of me for using a coupon, but at the same time wonder if I had said something to her. I peek up at Logan’s profile as he faces her, noticing how his dark hair curls around his collar and I’m surprised to feel flushed.

  “Your mother, Nina…she delivered meals to my husband, and then to me. Such a sweet woman,” Lou tells him.

  “Nina was my stepmother, actually. And she loved her volunteer work.”

  Lou puts a hand on his arm and leans in. “I heard about your family’s loss, and I’m so sorry.”

  My pulse quickens, and I fiddle with the flap on my wallet when I realize I hadn’t said anything to him either of the times we’d seen each other. “Yes, um, me too, Logan.” Me too? What am I, twelve?

  He nods.

  “Must be so difficult on your families. Losing two women. Your aunt as well? My goodness.”

  “Yes, ma’am…we’re getting by, though.” His dark chocolate eyes lock onto mine right before the man in front of me leaves the counter. I shrug and gesture, indicating I have to go. His lips press together, and a quiet ache builds in my chest as if I were about to step on a plane and not two feet away.

  After placing our order, I move aside and nod at Logan, who somehow managed to press up right behind me while I had my back turned. His scent distracts me for a moment but a sigh from the woman standing behind him jostles me back to reality. “It was…nice to see you again.” My lips bump up at the corners, and I don’t fight them, though I feel a sense of guilt too. As I step out of the line, I wonder if I’m being swayed by dreamy dark eyes and lack of sex.

  “You too,” he says before Lou and I leave to grab a table.

  As soon as my ass hits the seat, her simper is already pinning me to the red vinyl booth.

  “No, Lou.”

  She shrugs playfully. “No, what?”

  “No to whatever you were going to ask about…him.”

  She folds her arms and leans back. “Well I was just going to ask if he knows you’ve got the hots for him—so that’s a no?”