Barbed Wire Bandages, page 11
He had no idea.
As the sun began to set, Garrison and Bridget hopped on the 4-wheeler and rode to the back of her property where a quiet lot sat undisturbed at the edge of the river. The two of them wanted one day together; no friends, no townsfolk, no animals. Just them. With the reunion looming on the next sunrise, they could both feel a change on the breeze. It surrounded them. Invaded their every thought. And they wanted to ignore it and go about their blissful lives for one more night.
Bridget knew Garrison had to leave. She'd told herself time and time again that it was for the best. She knew he didn't belong in Till Park, but her heart refused to give him up. He wasn't even gone yet and Bridget was already loathing the return of her lonely, single life. In such a short amount of time, he'd become a staple in her household. Their little escape was the beginning of the end, and both of them wanted nothing more than to soak in each others company while they still had the chance.
“Wanna hike up that far hillside?” Garrison asked as they approached the edge of the riverbank.
The water was a little higher than normal due to the rainstorms they'd been having, so Bridget was able to dangle her feet over the edge of the rocks and skim the cresting waves with her toes.
“No.” Bridget took his hand in hers and pulled him down to sit next to her. “I'm good right here.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Me too.” He took in a deep lungful of air as he looked around. The setting sun cast everything in a beautiful palette of reds, oranges, and yellows and Bridget committed the scene to memory, vowing to one day paint what would be their last day together.
“You know, I could spend hours right here doing absolutely nothing, and I'd be perfectly content as long as I was with you.”
Her heart clenched for the hundredth time that day as she hung her head. “Don't say things like that.”
“Why? Because this is finite? Because I have to leave soon?”
Bridget crossed her arms and refused to lean into him when he pulled her close.
“Yes. That's exactly why.”
“So I'm not allowed to be nice now?”
She angled her head and glared at him through the corner of her eye. “No. You're not.”
He sighed and rested his forehead on her bare shoulder. “Then can I at least be honest?”
She quickly shrugged and pulled her feet out of the water. Sitting Indian style, she closed her eyes and focused on the sound of Garrison's breathing and the bubbling of water below.
“If you must.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, shifted on the hard ground, and pulled Bridget tightly to his side. “With all the rest of my life up in the air – adjusting to civilian life, not knowing what I'm doing next, not knowing where I want to settle – I crave moments like this. I want to hold onto these memories for as long as possible, because with you, everything just feels really damn good. Better than good. But it can't always be just us hidden away here, you know? When you station the two of us against reality, well, that picture is a little more complicated.”
Bridget didn't want reality. She didn't want complicated. She only wanted Garrison. For as long as she could have him.
As his eyes honed in on the calming water below, Bridget abandoned her tank top and shorts, revealing a simple black bikini. When she tossed a leg over his lap and wove her fingers into his hair, he shifted back, taking her in with a surprised smile.
“Uh... watcha doin'?”
“Nothing.” She smiled coyly. “What are you doing?”
Her lips began trailing eager, wet kisses down the column of his neck, licking as she went.
“I'm wondering how close your neighbors are and if any of them can see us right now.”
Her hands suddenly stopped, braced to her sides by Garrison's grip in an attempt to still her progress.
“C'mon,” she whispered, knowing he would eventually fold. “No one can see us.”
Her wanton attitude made him chuckle. “You sure about that? Because I'm not particularly keen on sharing this body with the rest of the town.”
She craned her hands forward, enough to tug at the waistband of his swim trunks. “Just a quickie,” she promised.
When Garrison leaned forward and began lightly sucking at the base of her throat, she knew she'd won. He pulled away long enough to lift his ass off the ground and Bridget hastily removed his trunks. His cock popped free, thick and raring to go, as he caressed the underside of her thigh and moved to sink two fingers into her core. But he never made it that far.
After pulling her bikini to the side, Bridget slammed herself down onto his shaft. A surprised gasp mixed with a groan tumbled from his throat, but she didn't give him time to catch his breath before she began moving. She rode him furiously, crying out as the unrelenting grip of desire gave way to pleasure. She moved like every thrust might be her last and she had to take as much as she could get while it was still within her reach.
As they settled into a vigorous rhythm, Garrison pulled the top of her bikini apart so that her breasts spilled out over the cups, bouncing with her movements. When he took one nipple into his mouth and began sucking and teasing it with his teeth, her moans converted to breathless obscenities.
They worked together, giving each other everything they had to give in that one fleeting moment. Bridget held him close, begging him to take her over the edge as Garrison whispered words of worship against her heated skin. They both kept their eyes on each other, needing to remember every thrust, every caress, every cry. They promised to commit everything to memory. Forever.
Bridget came quickly with a rough cry, her inner walls squeezing him until he hugged her to his body and released inside her. Only when they collapsed together in a sweaty, dirty heap, did their eyes close.
Bridget shook, whether from the overexertion of her muscles or the overabundance of emotions hacking away at her heart, she wasn't sure. But when an unstoppable wave of tears marched down her cheeks, she knew.
Garrison kissed her neck, pulled away to look her in the eyes, and his smile instantly died on his lips. When he cradled her face in his hands and kissed each tear away, she crumbled. She didn't care about being strong. She only cared about him and what it would do to her when he left.
“I don't want you to leave,” she sobbed.
Garrison rested his forehead against hers, his jaw clenching in an effort to fight back his own tears. “I know.”
And it was there – in the middle of the woods, at the edge of the most serene river in Till Park, with the most kindhearted man she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing – that it hit her.
She'd been so focused on the way Garrison made her smile, the way he looked when he was inside her, the way he made her laugh, the way he held himself to such a high standard... that she didn't realize when it happened. But somewhere along the line, she'd let him in.
Completely.
There wasn't a shred of doubt in Bridget's mind.
No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
She'd fallen ass-over-face in love with Garrison Beckett.
And there wasn't a damn thing she could do to make him stay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bridget bounced where she stood, monitoring the driveway as she gnawed on one manicured nail. She was trying to brace herself for the dive into the snake pit, but she wasn't ready. If she had it her way, they wouldn't go to the reunion at all. They'd spend their last night together wrapped in each other's arms, watching old black and white movies, and eating popcorn with the dogs. But Garrison was persistent.
When a familiar black car zoomed toward the house, she ran for the door, flung it open, and pranced nervously around the porch as she waited for Garrison to park. When he stood from the car and fastened one of his suit buttons, she gestured wildly for him to come inside, which only caused him to take his sweet ass time.
“You're hilarious!” She yelled across the yard, still waving for him to come inside. “We don't have time for this.”
When he met her at the threshold with a kiss and a single red rose, her nerves calmed the tiniest bit. She held him close, inhaling the sweet musk of his cologne as they stepped inside.
He massaged her shoulders as he regarded her with an easy smile. “What's the matter, sugar tits?”
“Okay, first off, please don't ever call me sugar tits. And second, does this look okay?”
Garrison took a few short steps away and looked her up and down. A slow, mischievous grin bloomed on his face as he took in her hip-hugging little black dress. She looked down as well, second guessing the ensemble.
The fabric clung to her legs and stomach, accentuating her toned frame, but the neckline swooped open loosely above her chest, framing her cleavage beautifully.
“Honestly?” He reached for her hand and twirled her around so he could see the back. “Right now, I'm calculating how many minutes we have to spare before we have to leave. I'd love to peel that little number right off and bend you over the back of the couch.”
Goosebumps erupted down her spine as he pulled her body in close to his and kissed the back of her neck. She felt the rigid bulge of his ardor pressing into her ass and she couldn't help but arch her back and rub along his length like a cat in heat.
“You look incredible,” he said as he nipped playfully at her earlobe.
“Are you sure it's not too-”
“Too what?” He asked. “Too short? Too tight?”
“Too sexy.”
He laughed. “Oh, yeah. It's definitely too sexy.”
Even though she thoroughly enjoyed his roaming hands, she stepped away and groaned. “I'm changing.”
As she tried to flee the room, Garrison caught her by the hips and roughly pulled her back against him.
“Don't. You. Dare.” He whispered the subtle command in her ear and she melted. Just a little. “I want everyone to see the hot little piece on my arm. Every man will want you and every woman will hate you.”
“Yeah, I don't want that,” she said, softly elbowing him in the gut.
“Well then, go throw on a potato sack, smear some mud on your face, and get in the car.”
“Ha-freakin-ha.” She whirled around and laid her hands on the lapels of his suit jacket. His tie didn't need adjusting, but she did it anyway. “Did you pick this suit out yourself?”
Garrison looked down, brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulder, and shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”
The charcoal Armani fit him perfectly. It was snug in all the right areas, showing off his tapered waistline, broad shoulders, and powerful arms and thighs. Bridget could practically feel her pupils dilating as she eyed the bulge that the light suit was trying hard to conceal.
She shook her head as her hands wound around his waist and dipped down to grip his muscled ass.
“They'll hate us both.”
“Good.” He offered her his arm. “Let's go piss off some assholes.”
Garrison and Bridget stopped outside the doors of the hotel where the reunion was taking place. They each took a deep breath, gave each other a kiss – for luck – and braced themselves for whatever was to come.
Bridget's nerves were getting the best of her and she was fighting the urge to get back in the car and drive home. She knew that half the class hated her because of how she treated people, and the other half hated her for what they thought she'd done to Nat. And speaking of Nat... the idea of running into him had her stomach trying to claw its way up her esophagus.
When they reached the banquet room, they stopped outside the door and Bridget clung to Garrison's waist as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
“You sure you want to do this?” She asked for the tenth time since she climbed in the car.
“Hey-” he tipped her chin back and looked her in the eyes before laying a chaste kiss to her lips. “What's the worst that could happen? It's just a room full of old high school chums. Trust me when I say that they don't hate you anymore than they hate themselves. We go in, we chat, we eat, then we go home and I get to slide that dress off your delicious body. Sound like a plan?”
She smiled brightly even though she sensed he was nervous as well. She wasn't sure why; he was ten times the man anyone in Till Park could ever hope to be, but he'd been on edge the entire drive over. He hid it well, but she was quickly learning how to read him.
“Sounds perfect.” She laced her fingers through his and turned to face the music.
When he opened the door, soft chatter and intimate lighting greeted them and she plastered a fake smile to her lips. He gestured for her to go inside.
“After you, beautiful.”
Bridget lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and gave his hand a little squeeze before taking the first step. As the door clunked loudly behind them, more than a dozen pairs of eyes swung to greet the newcomers. People Bridget barely recognized anymore waved at her or Garrison as they made their way to the table housing everyone's name tags.
“Now, let's see,” he mused as his eyes swept over the cards. “Here I am.” He picked up the sticker scrawled with his name and continued to search. “Huh... That's weird. I don't see yours.”
She leaned over his shoulder, concern coloring her already anxious face.
“There's no 'Sexy Dog Savior' tag.”
He smiled and she smacked him in the stomach with her clutch.
“Ass.”
Bridget took her sticker from Garrison's hand and slapped it haphazardly to her dress. When she looked up to find Garrison lightly pressing his to the dress shirt inside his suit, she shook her head.
“What?” He unbuttoned his jacket so his name could be seen. “It's Armani. I'm not a complete neanderthal.”
She grabbed his hand and turned to the crowd. “C'mon, preppy. Let's go mingle.”
“Psht, who you callin' preppy, Queen Bee?”
She shot him a withering glare. “I mucked cow stalls this morning and had to scrape manure out from under my fingernails. I'd say I'm a far cry from being queen of anything.”
Garrison waggled his brows. “If you play your cards right, maybe later you can be queen of my-”
“Bridget Warner!” A tiny blonde squealed and shuffled toward them. “I can't believe you're here!”
“Sadie, hi!” Bridget was genuinely pleased to see a friendly face. Although she hadn't been close to Sadie in high school, they'd always gotten along. “I haven't seen you in forever!”
“Is this your husband?” Sadie asked as she gestured to Garrison with a friendly smile.
Bridget shook her head, smiling wistfully as she looped her arm through his, staking claim.
“No, just a friend,” she said, trying to keep her smile in place. “Surely you remember Garrison Beckett?”
Sadie scrunched her nose. “The scrawny little dude that was always tripping over his own feet?”
Garrison held out his hand for Sadie to shake and Bridget pursed her lips to stifle a laugh.
“I'm a little more graceful these days,” he said by way of greeting.
Sadie's eyes grew wide as saucers and Bridget wondered if it was possible to pull an eye muscle.
“No. Freaking. Way.”
She didn't try to mask the way her eyes took him in slowly, inspecting every inch of his impressive frame. She ate him up with just a look, going so far as to lick a speck of drool from the corner of her lips.
Garrison turned to offer Bridget a secret smile and she realized he was blushing.
She realized right then why he'd decided to come home for the reunion. He wanted to show people how far he'd come. Show them he wasn't that lost, timid boy anymore. Surely the fact that he was surrounded by potbellies and black holes where teeth had once been was not lost on him. These less-than-perfect people were the ones that had made him feel like a lower life form for so many years, and for one night he had the chance to turn the tables.
When Sadie's attention caught on someone else and she excused herself to keep from making a bigger fool of herself, Bridget leaned up to give Garrison a peck on the cheek.
“How's it feel?”
He looked down, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “How's what feel?”
She nodded to the growing crowd. “How's it feel to not be the butt of a joke or a target on someone's radar? How's it feel knowing that no one can touch you?”
He beamed proudly. “You can touch me.”
“You know what I mean.” She refused to be distracted. She truly wanted to know exactly how he was feeling. This was his moment, and she was damn proud of the man he'd grown to be.
“I don't know, Bridget.” His expression fell to one of guilt with just the slightest tinge of disbelief. “Is it wrong to want to boast just a little? I mean, c'mon, that was priceless.” He gestured to where Sadie was still ogling him from the corner. Another woman joined her and they both stared longingly at Garrison from across the room.
“I think that's the girl who shoved a box of tampons in my locker.”
Bridget squinted to get a better look and then snickered. “Yes it was, Gyno Gary.”
“That was the worst nickname ever!” He laughed with her as they made their way to the buffet table. “Lucky that one didn't last long.”
Bridget tried not to think about all the other nicknames that followed him around for years, some of which she'd contributed to or even invented.
“Well, Mr. Beckett, I think it's safe to say you can expect a few more dozen looks like that before the night's over.”
“Oh, you mean the 'holy shit, he doesn't look like Quasimodo anymore' look?”
She grinned and discreetly pinched his ass. “That's the one.”
Together, they made their way down the long banquet tables, looking for something to eat that wasn't battered and deep-fried. When they gave up and decided to find a seat instead, Garrison nudged her with his hip.
