Page 9 of Not Your Average Vixen
“I know that,” she answered, now the one looking away.
“Do you? Or have you been hiding behind this maternal guise of caring for your sister to shield yourself from anyone who might care for you or stop you from grasping at any opportunity that came your way? You’re the most stifled, stuck person I know. I feel sorry for you,” he said, looking at her as if she were the last puppy left at the pound.
The thread tightened its grip on her heart, twisting and tormenting. But she’d become a pro at dismissing its selfish pleas.
“Is this your way of blaming me for the lingerie-clad woman in your bed?” she asked, unwilling to let his words shake her resolve.
“Bridget, you’re a nice girl, but…”
You’re a nice girl, but…
She didn’t have to listen to what came after those five words because she’d heard them before, littered in the trail of her past relationships. And what did it matter anyway? Garrett, like all the rest, had no sense of duty. He’d never been tasked with ensuring another’s happiness. He’d never made a solemn promise to put another person before himself.
Grandma Dasher had entrusted her sister’s happiness and wellbeing to her. If someone couldn’t understand that, then that person didn’t understand her.
“I’m sorry, Bridget. I didn’t want it to end like this,” he said, his words floating in the air as she turned and headed for the bus stop.
No job. No boyfriend.
But she hadn’t lost everything. She stared down at her phone, then clicked the text icon.
Birdie: Hey, little sis. I caught Garrett in bed with another woman. But don’t worry about me. I’m okay. He was like all the rest. I’m relieved, actually. Now, I won’t have anyone to distract me from making sure the best man is on his best behavior.
Within seconds, three flashing dots appeared, signaling her sister’s reply.
Lori: I’m sorry about Garrett, Birdie. It’s his loss—you know that. I love you!
Bridget gathered her resolve. She’d figure out her life. She’d find another job—somewhere.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. No, she’d made a promise—a promise more important than a crummy job or a philandering boyfriend.
Only one thing mattered, and that was making sure Lori’s wedding went off without a hitch.
She thought back to the little girl with the pigtails and her sweet slip of the tongue.
Merry Christmas, Bridget Vixen!
There had to be a little vixen in her somewhere—a little badassery hidden beneath the surface. She lengthened her stride and added a little swing to her step.
For Lori, she’d be the vixen.
The dragon slayer.
A woman on a mission.
This Scooter better watch out. Birdie was on her way.
2
Soren
Soren Rudolph assessed the half-dozen men and women seated around the table in his spacious office overlooking the southern end of Central Park. Prime NYC real estate. Nothing less would do—not for the city’s top private equity firm.
“Report,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair.
Six four and built like a Greek god, he was used to having all eyes on him. But behind his chiseled features and appraising cat-like eyes was a mind that never stopped.
Sure, it was a quarter past seven in the evening the week before Christmas. The brake lights of rush hour traffic thirty stories below reflected off the towering skyscrapers, signaling the end of the workday. But not for him. Not for the real movers and shakers in this city.
