She wiped her hands down her jeans, liking their makeshift picnic. “I’d better not.”
“Full?”
“I can always eat pie.” She held her breath for a moment, then let the words spill out. “You know why there was half a one left? Mom suggested we save it for tomorrow. After she commented that I might have to buy a new wardrobe. Black Friday deals and all.”
Caleb’s fork hung from his hand and he had a you’re shitting me look. He set the utensil down. “The only problem with your weight is the people who comment on it.”
“I wish it were that clear-cut.”
He stared at her for a heartbeat. “I was going to say something like ‘it could be that clear-cut,’ but I’m not a girl.”
The corner of her mouth hitched up, and the flush came back as she recalled him with his shirt off. “No. Definitely not a girl.”
“I like the way you look. I’ve always liked the way you look. And I think you look better now than ever.” He shook his head as a shadow crossed his face. “This thing with your mom. She has some baggage that she’s been handing off to you. The perfectionism, the way she lives vicariously through you, the weird shit about your eating. It’s not right, and it’s about her and not you.”
Brigit folded her hands in her lap. She couldn’t nod, but he was right. It wasn’t like she couldn’t see it. What she couldn’t see was that her mom was incorrect. “The thing about Mom is… she’s right sometimes. Her nagging about my career? She was there when I came home from high school and finally broke down. I was such an outsider. Taller than the rest of my classmates, even after they hit puberty. Justin was the popular one, not me.”
“I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“You were Justin’s friend and had a little cult following you were oblivious to. When I moved for college—” Her voice cracked. Those days were the epitome of bittersweet. “Mom and I went shopping. New town, new look. It was…exhilarating freedom.” Brigit shifted her gaze to the wall. The flash of hurt in Caleb’s eyes inspired a new round of guilt. “I walked into the grocery store and no one knew who I was. No one commented on my clothing. No one compared me to my brothers. The anonymity was addicting.”
“And your mom knew what waited for you.”
She nodded. Mom had had the same experience in a different small town. Things should be different now that Brigit was an adult. But nothing had changed. “Did you know Justin’s seeing Maisy again?”
“Priya mentioned it last week when I saw her.”
Priya was back in town? And Caleb had talked to her? That wasn’t jealousy piercing her gut and churning the dessert she’d eaten. Who Caleb dated wasn’t her business.
“Relax. I think Priya would go after Justin if she thought she’d survive Maisy’s assassination attempts.”
Her tension faded. “I wish Justin weren’t rebelling against the woman who broke his heart. I wish he had a thing for Priya instead.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “I seem to have a thing for tall blonds who can work cattle like a boss and keep trying to get away from me.”
“It’s not you I’m getting away from.” Being close to him made her question what was so important that she had to leave Moore and him behind. The longer she was around him, the more the answer faded away.
His nod was curt. “Fair enough.”
Chapter 9
If someone had asked him this morning whether he’d be stretched out next to Brigit Walker on his motel bed, he would’ve laughed, then tormented himself with the fantasy.
Now if they’d told him he’d be fully clothed and so would she and they’d both be on top of the covers, well, that was in the realm of believability.
“If you could be anything you wanted to be when you grow up, what would it be?” he asked, turning his head. Brigit was staring at the drop-tile ceiling, one hand on her stomach and the other above her head. Her shirt did nothing to suppress the way her breasts jutted upward.
She furrowed her brow and turned to him. He couldn’t ignore the punch of her stare, or how it diverted blood from his contented stomach. Flipping to his side had the effect of bringing him closer to her.
She rolled onto her side. They were face-to-face, inches away. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.” She could tell him anything. As long as she didn’t give him the silent treatment for another ten years.
“I didn’t even apply to law school.”
“No fucking way. Did Joan lose her shit?”
“She doesn’t know,” she whispered. She worried her lower lip, her gaze growing serious. “Maybe at one time I actively wanted to be a lawyer, but when I got to school, I had nothing more than a passing interest in law. I didn’t want to do it for a living. Except…” She pursed her lips. “Another secret?”