Page 71 of Not Your Average Vixen
She stared down at the swirling water. “We seem to have a lot of those lapses.”
He touched the shower curtain. “We do.”
There he was—the man who’d made love to her with such tenderness, who’d held her in his arms and twisted her hair between his fingers before she’d fallen asleep.
She slid her fingertip up the shower curtain but stopped just below where his index finger rested. Beads of water ran down the slick surface as they stood inches apart. She should detest the man on the other side of the curtain. And she did hate his intentions when it came to Tom and Lori’s wedding, but there had to be more.
Or not.
The knot in her belly twisted.
Was there more to Garrett or even Gaston? Hadn’t she hoped that her connection to them was real, or at least, based on mutual respect, only to learn, that in both cases, she was just somenice girlwho didn’t make the cut?
Why did she always assume there was more to others and never more to herself?
You’re the most stifled, stuck person I know. I feel sorry for you, Bridget.
Jagged and rough, Garrett’s words cut through her.
But now was not the time to dwell on her failings, on all the missed opportunities and forgotten dreams—all the should haves and could haves.
This was who she was and perhaps all she’d ever be.
But one thing was certain. She needed to stick to the plan and make Lori’s wedding a success. Grandma Dasher had entrusted her with her little sister’s welfare, and she couldn’t fail the woman who had taken them in when there was no one else.
She drew back her hand, then turned off the water. With newfound resolve coursing through her veins, she was ready to do whatever it took to get the job done when a ping rang out in the bedroom.
“Is that my phone?” she called.
“No, it’s mine. And it’s a text from Tom.”
She wiped the water from her eyes.
Game on.
10
Bridget
“What does the text say?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone light and breezy.
She couldnotlet on that anytime these two communicated, it set her pulse racing.
“Tom says to tell you that the cakes are in the freezer. Do you know what that means? Are you making ice cream cakes or funnel cakes that require refrigeration? Why the hell would you need a freezer for a cake?” Soren grumbled.
A cake question? That’s it?
Score a point for Team Dasher!
She released a relieved breath, ignored hisScroogyness, and reached for a towel. “It’s easier to frost a cake when it’s cool. Lori knows almost as much as I do when it comes to baking.”
“Is that what you’re doing today? Frosting cakes?” he called from the bedroom.
She towel-dried her hair, then twisted it into a damp bun. “It’s whatwe’redoing today,” she answered, making sure to add a touch of vixen to her tone.
“We?” he bit out.
“Yes, Mr. Best Man, my sister and the Abbotts are spending the day in the village. There’s ice skating and all sorts of activities to do there whilewework on the wedding cake.”
