Garrison held his arm out to her, but she batted it away.

  “I may be a woman, Garrison Beckett, but you should know by now that I'm definitely not a lady.” She grinned coyly as she stepped ahead of him and made her way to the car.

  He stayed just a few paces behind her. “So I take it you don't want me to open the car door for you either?”

  She turned and wrinkled her nose playfully. “I'm perfectly capable of operating a door.”

  Garrison quickly caught up with her and spun her around in his arms, enjoying the boisterous laugh that sang through the surrounding pastures. When he placed her feet back on the ground, he reached for the door handle.

  “You're perfectly capable of operating a lot of things. Doesn't mean I'm going to let you.”

  “Let me?” One dark brow arched up toward her hairline.

  Instead of answering, Garrison simply opened the door and waved his hand for her to sit. She did, eventually, shaking her head as she smoothed out her dress against the leather upholstery.

  When Garrison ran around the front of the car and slid in behind the wheel, Bridget angled herself toward him and slid her hand along the inseam of his jeans.

  “So, where are you taking me?”

  He chuckled as he took her hand and placed it on the center console. “Back inside if you don't stop that.”

  Bridget pouted. “You're no fun.”

  “I'm plenty fun,” he said with a wink. “But I'm also plenty hungry.”

  Sighing, she pulled her hands away and tucked them firmly beneath her thighs. His mouth watered as he thought of touching those thighs later, but he kept his hands to himself.

  “Okay, then. Start the car so we can get to the wining and dining.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled and Garrison was surprised when a pang of guilt shot through his chest.

  How was he supposed to just up and leave this beautiful creature in a few days? How was he supposed to drive away with no plan whatsoever of returning? How was he supposed to live a Bridget-free life and never again look into her stormy blue eyes, hear her tinkering laugh, or feel her intoxicating kiss?

  Shit...

  In a flash, Garrison realized he'd gone and done something he never intended to do. Something that both he and Bridget would pay for dearly.

  Something that changed everything.

  Forever.

  Garrison Beckett had stupidly let Bridget Warner into his heart.

  And now, they'd both be left to weather sleepless nights, tears, and an abundance of heartache because of his stupidity.

  Trying his best to swallow his concerns and regret, Garrison kissed Bridget's cheek, started the car, and drove into town, vowing that no matter how hard he had to fight to keep the happy charade alive, he would do it.

  For her.

  Because she was worth it.

  After a romantic dinner of steak, baked potatoes, and beer, they weren't ready to call it a night. Even though Garrison yearned to get Bridget back to her place and show her just how happy she made him, the draw of Till Park nightlife was too strong to ignore. So they made their way to Bucky's where it seemed everyone in town chose to congregate.

  However, Garrison instantly regretted that decision the moment they walked through the door.

  “How's it hangin', Mr. Beckett?”

  Shawn shoved through the crowd and ruffled his hair playfully before turning to see who was on his arm. When his eyes landed on Bridget, his smile vanished.

  “Shawn Metcalf,” he said, holding a stiff hand out in greeting.

  The look on his face spelled trouble, but Garrison watched him carefully, vowing to silence him with a fist to the face if he crossed Bridget in any way whatsoever.

  “You probably don't remember me, but-”

  “No,” Bridget said with a wave and a sad smile. “I do actually.”

  “You do?” He asked flatly.

  Biting her lip, Bridget held Garrison's arm a little tighter as she proceeded to apologize for whatever hardships she'd been responsible for in Shawn's life. Garrison expected Shawn to be grateful, or at the very least surprised, but his drunk expression never wavered.

  “Thanks,” he said, dismissing her rudely as he took a long pull of his beer. “So, how's the crazy cat lady business?”

  Bridget's shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch. Shawn didn't notice, but Garrison definitely did.

  “It's... good. I guess.”

  After another long drink, Shawn slammed his empty bottle on the table next to them, startling Bridget as he turned away.

  “Well, y'all have a nice night.”

  Bridget's mouth hung open in shock as she watched Shawn disappear into the crowd. As Garrison fought the urge to go after him and bring down the inquisition, he rubbed a comforting hand up Bridget's arm and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Don't worry about him. He's half plowed right now. Probably won't even remember running into us.”

  “Yeah,” she said, scanning the crowd nervously. “Probably not.”

  As he watched her, he noticed that the spirited, carefree woman he'd brought out had vanished. She'd said to hell with the night and fled. And this timid, self-conscious version of Bridget wasn't the one he wanted to spend his night with. There was only one thing he could do to fix that.

  “You ready?”

  She swung her head to the side, eyeing him curiously.

  “But we just got here.”

  “Don't tell me you want to stay.” He knew she didn't. He just wanted to test the waters, to see what she would do when given the option to leave.

  “If you want to stay, then that's fine with me.”

  Damn.

  He didn't want to stay and he sure as hell didn't want Bridget giving him the reins. She was stubborn and headstrong even on her worst days, but never before had he seen her so guarded.

  “Nope. Time to go.”

  He hopped off his stool, took her hand, and led her to the door. As he held her jacket open and she slipped her slim arms inside, he leaned in close and brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. “I'm ready to get you home so I can have you all to myself.”

  She at least attempted a smile, but otherwise continued to shut down.

  The drive home was quiet. Bridget had drawn into herself and Garrison was wracking his brain trying to figure out why. Was it remorse? Was she ashamed of the person she'd been a decade ago? That was understandable, but she needed to let it go. That was her past. She couldn't let it dictate her future. Or her present. Their present. Together.

  He wondered if it was more than that. Had the people of Till Park wronged her in some way? He knew what kind of man Nat was. He wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that the bastard had left town with a smile on his face after dragging Bridget's name through the dirt.

  When they finally made it back to Bridget's, Garrison killed the engine but made no move to get out of the car. He wanted to apologize for the way their night ended, but he sensed that Bridget didn't want to acknowledge what had happened.

  “Did you have a good time?” He asked instead.

  She turned, a simple but forced smile gracing her face.

  “I really did. Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” he said, stretching out in his seat.

  He didn't want to go inside. He wanted Bridget to open up to him, talk to him, let him in. But that clearly wasn't happening tonight, not if the set of her jaw or her rigid shoulders were any indication. In the light filtering in from her flood lamps, Garrison saw the way she blinked in rapid succession, trying to keep her tears concealed, and every flutter cut at his insides. He needed to know.

  “Bridget, what-”

  “No, Garrison,” she jabbed, cutting him off. “We're not talking about this.”

  His hands lifted in the air in surrender. “Okay. Okay...”

  “It's just... it's always going to be like this, you know?” She turned to face him, smiling even as she tried to swallow her tears. “They'll always believe that I'm some cheating psychopath. They think I have no moral compass, no ethical boundaries, and that I'm too unstable to function in polite society. All because of the things he said when he left. And this-” she motioned to the beautiful house that stood proudly before them, “-it's everything to me. I don't want to leave Till Park, but sometimes...”

  She wiped at her eyes and after a full minute passed Garrison knew she wasn't going to finish her sentence. He wanted nothing more than to erase every negative word that had touched her so deeply. He wanted to bring back her smile, her laugh, and the loving nature that he knew would eventually be his undoing.

  “C'mon, babe. I'll walk you inside.”

  Garrison moved to open his door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him cold.

  “I don't want to go inside,” Bridget whispered. “I don't want this to be over. Not yet.”

  He turned back to face her, concerned and more than a bit confused.

  “Okay,” he said softly.

  Whatever she wanted to do, he would do it. In a heartbeat. Whatever it took to banish that painful look of heartache she was trying so damn hard to hide. All she had to do was ask.

  “Then what do you want to do? Drive around a bit?”

  “No.”

  Before he could register her intentions, Bridget launched herself into his seat, straddling his lap. Her dress inched up her thighs as she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in close. She clung to him, rubbing against his jeans, her torso against his. Her entire body melted into him, as if she couldn't get close enough, couldn't absorb enough of his heat.

  “I want you,” she said as her breath caressed his cheek. “Right here.” She nipped at his earlobe and his hips involuntarily thrust up to meet her. “Please.”

  She didn't have to beg. Garrison was already calculating how long it would take to adjust his seat and if that would improve the angle of entry or not. While Bridget worked his zipper down, he fumbled for the handle, but eventually gave up the hunt. When both his hands returned to her hips, she clutched his dick in her hand and sparks set off behind his closed eyelids. She continued running her palm up his length, twirling her fingers around the head, and sliding back down smoothly.

  “Do you want this?” The words were barely a pleading whisper. “Do you want me?”

  “Yes,” he managed to rasp out as she slid a bead of moisture around his tip. “Fuck yes, I want you.”

  “Good.”

  Garrison held his breath as she reached between her legs and pulled her panties to the side, giving him a clear point of entry. He didn't waste any time. He grabbed his length, positioned himself, and pushed inside her wet heat, exhaling a groan as he thrust so deep he met resistance.

  “Oh God,” she whimpered, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

  The muscles in her legs tensed and released as she bobbed up and down. Garrison's fingers dug into her hips, guiding her, controlling her speed as his breathing matched their thrusts.

  “You feel amazing,” he said, fighting for control as she braced herself against his chest.

  “God, so do you.”

  Bridget's hair flailed around her face as she rode him and he wondered if he'd ever seen anything so sexy in all his years on earth. He highly doubted it, seeing as how he wanted to watch her forever. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanned out against flushed cheeks. Her mouth formed the perfect 'O' as she moaned in pleasure. Her breasts danced erotically in her dress as he pumped into her hard and fast.

  He never wanted that moment to end. He wanted to bottle that look, that feeling, like an expensive wine. He wanted to keep it - maybe even keep her - forever.

  Needing to feel even more of her body, Garrison reached around and undid the knot at the base of her neck that held her dress closed. As the fabric slipped, her breasts fell free and he smoothed his hands down her neck and took them in his hands, flicking both nipples gently as she shuddered.

  “I don't ever want this to stop,” he said honestly, cursing the fact that he was getting too damn close to losing it.

  Without opening her eyes, Bridget reached down and grabbed one of Garrison's hands and pulled it lower, positioning his fingers over her clit. He took over and began rubbing her sensitized nub, causing her muscles to tense and shudder beneath him. She was getting close too.

  “Come for me,” he whispered, thrusting even harder as he reached his free hand behind her back and tugged roughly on her hair.

  Her head tilted back, mouth opening to let a surprised gasp escape.

  “Yes,” she groaned behind clenched teeth. “Fuck- fuck yes.”

  “Now.”

  Continuing to pound into her, Garrison abandoned her clit and instead grabbed one breast and latched onto it with his mouth, biting the sensitive underside hard enough to make her scream out passionately just as her walls began clenching around him.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  She continued to scream and thrust against him as his seed pumped into her. Her body milked him until there was nothing left and when she stopped moving, her torso collapsed onto Garrison's chest.

  “Fuck the date,” she said between pants. “That was the best part of the night.”

  Sated and completely spent, Garrison let out a laugh, enjoying the way her head shook on his chest as he moved.

  “I completely fucking agree.”

  He watched as she bit her lip and tilted her head. When their eyes met, a devious light infused her eyes and he mentally sighed in relief.

  “Wanna shower and do it again?”

  “Maybe,” he said, kissing her nose. “Or we could do it in the shower.”

  Her head swung side to side as she considered her answer. “Or on the bathroom counter.”

  Even though his body was begging for a reprieve, he thrust shallowly into her one more time.

  “Or against the bathroom wall.”

  She pulled him in for a forceful, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that had his softening member perking up with interest.

  “Bathroom wall.” She licked his bottom lip seductively. “That's the best idea you've had all week.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Garrison stood in front of the bathroom mirror, sullen, jaw covered with shaving cream. As he slid the razor down his coarse stubble, his mind flashed back to the way Bridget caressed his cheek as they made love. The way she kissed him on the corner of his mouth. The way he always wanted more when it came to her. More of her body. More pillow talk. More kisses. More laughs. More heated embraces.

  More time.

  He wanted more time. But was he willing to reestablish roots in Till Park? He wasn't sure. He no longer had any reason to call the place home. He'd never known his parents and the uncle who'd raised him had died while he was serving in Iraq. And his friends? Well... Shawn had been his only real friend and it looked like all he wanted out of life was a continuing series of twenty-four hour benders. That wasn't Garrison's scene, never had been. He liked drinking and partying, but he knew where to draw the line.

  As he finished shaving and wiped the last traces of lather from his face, his phone vibrated on the sink basin.

  Speak of the devil...

  Shawn's name flashed across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “We're going full on Carrie with her!”

  Panic seized Garrison's chest at the enthusiasm in Shawn's voice, but he refused to let it show.

  “Please tell me you're not slaughtering pigs right now.”

  “No. Better. So much better,” Shawn said. “You'll see, dude. You're gonna fucking love it!”

  Garrison made sure the door was locked before he leaned back against the counter. He didn't want Bridget to overhear Shawn's idiotic scheming.

  “Shawn, listen... we're all grown ass adults.” He kept his voice level, hoping subtlety was the way to disengage Shawn's persistence. “This stupid revenge plot was thought up by two resentful dumbasses. It's pointless. We've all moved on.”

  “I don't really know what that means,” Shawn replied, a slight slur to his voice. “This will be the greatest thing to happen in Till Park since Coach Greene got caught making out with the janitor before the homecoming parade. Remember that? He-”

  “What do you get out of this anyway?” Garrison interrupted, allowing his annoyance to bleed into his voice. “What did she ever do to you that warrants revenge?”

  “Nothing. But that's not the point. The point is that she terrorized a lot of people in school; people like us. Hell, you suffered the most out of any of them, wouldn't you say?”

  “Yeah, and I moved on. I grew up. We all make mistakes, that doesn't mean we have to pay for them ten years down the line.”

  Shawn stopped rambling, and Garrison looked at his phone to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

  “What's with you, man?” He asked after a beat of silence. “You were on board a week ago. Has she sunk her talons into you that quickly? Or is she that good in the sack?”

  Garrison's jaw clenched as he fought to contain his temper. When he spoke, he made sure his words were hard and clear.

  “I'm not doing this, Shawn.”

  “Garrison! This- It's- I'm telling you, it's perfect!” He stammered. “Poetry in symbolism!”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?”

  “I don't know,” Shawn said, laughing. “I read it on a pop up ad while watching Porn.”

  “Just forget about it.” Garrison was ready to beat him into submission. Or pay him off. Whichever worked best. He didn't want Bridget hurt. She'd never trust him again. She'd never trust anyone again. “I'm out. I'm done. Surely you realize that this-”

  “I gotta go,” Shawn interrupted. “AA meeting in five. I'll talk to you later.”

  Before he could respond, the call ended with a beep.

  “Shawn? Shit!”

  Garrison clutched his cell phone in his fist as he fought the urge to fling it across the bathroom. He didn't know how to get that moron to stand down without totally outing himself.

  As he fumed and glared at his reflection in the mirror, his anger slowly melted away and everything came into stark focus. Everything but a solution.

  He had feelings for Bridget. Lots of feelings. And whether or not he had a name to put to those feelings just yet was beside the point. He didn't want to see her hurt in any sense of the word. He knew, without a doubt, he'd take a bullet for her. But how was he supposed to stop some strung out loser with nothing better to do from humiliating her?

 

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