It was early, not yet six thirty, and still more than ten patrons filled the small shop. Megan Parker, the owner, looked up. “Morning, Bridgette,” she said. Megan was nearly ten years older than Bridgette, and mother to several teenagers. A pleasant-looking woman with dark hair, Megan continued, “I’m glad to see you’re back in town.”
“Thanks,” she said. “How’s your husband and the kids?”
“The kids keep us busy, but my husband’s been sick lately. Lots of doctor appointments while trying to figure out what’s wrong. I’ll tell you what, your dad’s a saint. Chuck has been home more than on the job site and your father keeps paying our health insurance. Without Fitz, we’d be on the hook for everything.”
Another employee of Colton Construction with a mystery illness? It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? “Has your husband been tested for cancer?” Bridgette asked.
“Oh, yeah,” said Megan. “Cancer. Thyroid. Liver failure. Heart disease. So far, nothing’s been positive.”
“You’ll keep me posted?” Bridgette asked. It was more than being polite—his diagnosis could very well shape her investigation.
“Enough about me. How are you? Will you be in town long?”
“Only until my job is done,” Bridgette said. “Then I go where the state of Kansas sends me.”
“Must be nice to be around your folks. Your brothers and sisters.”
Now that Bridgette had a place to call her own, she was able to honestly say, “It is nice to be back in Braxville. Nobody in Wichita has coffee as good as yours.”
“Nobody?”
“Nope.”
“That’s quite the compliment. What can I get for you, then?” Megan asked.
Bridgette was about to order and then Luke came to mind. Certainly she owed him more of an apology for how she’d acted—or was that, overreacted—last night than a grumbled sorry.
“I’ll take my usual and—” she paused “—what does Luke Walker typically order? I’ve rented an apartment in his building and want to drop off a little thank-you. He’s being super flexible with my schedule.”
“I know just what to fix,” said Megan. “It won’t take me a minute.”
Bridgette moved to the end of the counter. A discarded newspaper from Wichita sat on an empty table. Picking up the paper, Bridgette scanned the headlines.
A set of bells chimed as the coffee shop’s door opened. Her middle filled with a fluttering and she looked up from the paper. Immediately Bridgette knew that she was hoping to see Luke. And just as quickly she wondered why.
It wasn’t him.
The person who walked through the door stole Bridgette’s breath all the same.
It was the woman who’d been stalking Luke, his ex-girlfriend. Julia.
“Here you go,” said Megan, holding two paper bags—one with Bridgette’s croissant and the other with Luke’s breakfast sandwich. There was also a drink tray with two cups. “Tell Luke I said hello.”
Julia let out a hiss of surprise. Balling her hands into fists, she turned and glared. Anger radiated off her in a wave of heat.
Bridgette’s instincts rose to the surface—fight or flight. With the bags in one hand and the tray in the other, she walked across the coffee shop. The slap of her soles on the tile floor kept time with her racing heart.
She reached for the door, her fingers brushing the cold brass handle. Then she paused. Hadn’t Bridgette been stuck in the past, pining for a relationship that she’d never have? Moreover, she knew what it meant to be young and in love, possibly for the first time. Maybe this chance encounter was a way to help Julia get over Luke.
But how?
The answer came immediately. Hadn’t Bridgette said that a new relationship always helped ease some of the pain of the old one? Actually, she had said that Julia needed to find a new man. What if Luke’s ex believed that he’d found a new woman? Would that be enough?
Sipping her coffee, Bridgette turned. “You’re Julia, right?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Luke mentioned you last night.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “What’d he say?”
“Just that you dated briefly, and things didn’t work out.”
Bridgette expected the other woman to look crestfallen—a necessary evil to get on with her life. She didn’t. Her eyes flashed with an emotion so hard that Bridgette couldn’t find a name.
“When did you speak to Luke?” Julia asked, her jaw clenched.
“Like I said, it was last night,” Bridgette continued, knowing full well that she was alluding to time spent with Luke, which hadn’t and wouldn’t happen. She held up the twin bags of food. “I gotta go or breakfast will get cold.” Bridgette stepped away.
“Hey,” Julia called as Bridgette pushed the door open with her hip. “How well do you know Luke Walker?”
“In some ways, better than I know myself. We grew up together and were friends all the way through school. We dated toward the end of our senior year, but things unraveled when I went to college. I’m back for work.” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Without another word, she opened the door and stepped into the bright morning. A line of cars passed, forcing Bridgette to wait at the curb. She glanced over her shoulder. There, at the coffee shop’s window, stood Julia. The other woman splayed her palms against the glass. Her breath, collecting into a fog, obscured her face.
Despite the sun, Bridgette went cold.
With the traffic gone, she jogged across the street. At the door to the apartments, she worked the key into the lock. Every second seemed an eternity as Bridgette imagined the pain of a hand grabbing her from behind. The key slid home, turning the tumblers. She opened the door and stepped inside before kicking it shut with her heel.
For a moment, she stood in the silent foyer and listened to her racing heartbeat. Sweat dripped down her back and dotted her brow.
Without a doubt, Julia Jones was terrifying.
Moreover, Bridgette’s chest was tight with worry. Had she taken a bad situation and made it worse?
Taking the staircase to the second floor, she paused briefly on the stoop before knocking on Luke’s door.
Nothing.
She waited a minute and then a minute more.
Knocked. Waited.
Bridgette rapped her knuckles on the door for the third time. As she waited, she swore that she would knock no more. She didn’t know Luke, at least not anymore. She didn’t know his life or his schedule. He could exercise in the morning. Or already be at work. For all she knew, he actually had a girlfriend and never spent the night at his own place.
The bag in her hand became heavy. More than that, she felt ridiculous holding a tray with two cups when she’d obviously be eating breakfast alone.
She pivoted and strode to her own door.
“Hey, was that you?” Luke stood at his opened door. Speaking around a yawn, he continued. “I heard some knocking.”
“I’ve woken you up. I am so sorry.”
Luke’s hair was tousled with sleep. His cheeks and chin were covered with the shadow of a beard. But what was worse—or maybe better—Luke wore only a pair of sleep pants that hung low on his hips. His pecs were covered with golden hair, before narrowing to a strip in the middle that dove straight down into the waistband. His abs were tight. His shoulders were broad and the muscles in his arms were well defined. He had the sexy V thing happening at his hips.
“I’m usually up at dawn for a run, but last night I had a hard time sleeping and skipped the workout.” Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Luke asked, “What’s the matter? Did something break?”
At least he’d been too tired to notice that Bridgette had been staring at—ogling, really—his bare chest.
“I brought over breakfast.”
Luke blinked several times. “Breakfast?�
��
“You know, the first meal of the day. I also have coffee.” She paused. “Besides, I owe you for how I acted last night. Really, it wasn’t my best moment.”
“I can’t remember the last time anyone brought me a meal. That’s really sweet of you.”
“It’s also really early and I’ve woken you up. I can just leave this for whenever you’re ready.”
Luke pulled the door open wider and stepped aside. “Don’t be silly. Come in and eat with me. It gets old eating alone all the time.”
Luke was right—solo meals were the worst. Bridgette stepped into Luke’s apartment. It was the mirror image of her own yet with a lived-in feel. Several dirty dishes sat in the sink. Clean dishes stood in a strainer. A pile of old newspapers sat next to a rubbish bin. A thick binder was open on the coffee table.
“Have a seat,” he said, and gestured to the sofa. “Let me put on something less comfortable. Then I’ll get plates and mugs.”
Luke disappeared into what she knew to be the bedroom. Sitting on the sofa, she peered at the binder. It was open to a page that listed vendors for the Braxville Boo-fest. Braxville Boo-fest? There was also an itinerary. Costume parade at 9:00 a.m. Hayrides from 10:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. Pumpkin lighting at 7:30 p.m. along with cider and doughnuts. Family-friendly haunted house during the hayride hours in the Ruby Row Center. Then there were plans for a scarier version that began after the pumpkin lighting.
Luke returned with both breakfasts plated, along with silverware rolled into a paper napkin. He’d changed, now wearing a pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt from KSU. Even with his chest covered, Luke was still undeniably fit.
“Here you go,” he said, setting Bridgette’s croissant in front of her. As he sat, his arm brushed her thigh. A shiver of something akin to anticipation traveled up her leg, taking root in the pit of her belly.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. Pointing at the binder with her pinky, Bridgette asked, “What’s this? I grew up in Braxville and have never heard of the Boo-fest.”
“It’s a new festival sponsored by the downtown businesses. This is only our fourth year. Basically, one Saturday in October we have a Halloween-themed fair. The stores decorate for the season. Kids and families can have fun and make a few nice memories. It brings people to the downtown who hopefully do a little shopping.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“It’s a lot of work,” said Luke before taking a bite of a breakfast sandwich. He chewed and swallowed. “I used to just be in charge of the parade. Line up judges for the costume contest. Get local businesses to donate prizes. You know the drill.”
Bridgette didn’t, yet she nodded in agreement.
“But then—” Luke took another bite and chewed slowly “—our chairperson up and quit yesterday, leaving me in charge of the whole event.”
“Yikes.”
“And I couldn’t say no, even though I really feel like this is out of my league. And what’s worse, there’s less than two weeks for me to get up to speed and make it all happen.”
Memories of Julia standing on the street corner and in the rain came to mind. Was Luke such a nice guy that he’d never deny a request regardless of how difficult it was to fill? “Why can’t you pass on the responsibility?” Bridgette asked.
“She has a medical emergency in the family.”
“Oh. I guess you really can’t turn her down, can you?”
Luke shook his head before sipping his coffee. “What I really need is someone to take over the parade. Doing two jobs while running the store is more work than even I can handle.”
“I’m sure it’ll be easy find someone willing to volunteer. Who wouldn’t want to see all the adorable kids in costume? Oh, and you could do a pet costume parade, too.”
“You could do it,” said Luke.
“What? Me? No way. I’m busy. I have work.”
“We all have work. But our job is to make Braxville a great community,” he said. Nudging her with his shoulder, Luke winked and continued, “Besides, didn’t you say you owe me?”
Certain he was teasing, Bridgette teased in return. “Owed. As in past tense. That’s what your breakfast is for.”
“Too bad,” said Luke. “Your pet costume parade is a great idea.”
Bridgette popped the last bite of croissant into her mouth before reaching for the binder. She scanned the duties for the parade chairperson. Organize a setup crew. Clean up. A big variety show was planned at the parade’s conclusion in the mall. It looked like most of the plans had been made and volunteers already placed in time slots.
Maybe she could find an animal shelter to bring some pups to the parade. It would be a great way to help some dogs find their forever home. “I’m not saying that I’ll chair the parade, Luke. But I can probably help out, at least a little.”
“Really? I mean, thanks.”
“Do you have one of these binders for the parade?”
“Me, put together a binder?” Luke snorted. “Not likely. I do have some papers with notes. How’s this, we have a meeting tomorrow night at seven o’clock. It’s at La Dolce Vita. Why don’t you attend? You can get an idea of what’s involved and then decide if you want to take on a leadership role.”
Bridgette had come back to Braxville for work—not to get re-involved in life around town. Then again, even with all its imperfections, this place was her home. “Sure,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll check it out. Thanks.”
She turned, reached for the door and pulled it open. Had less than a half hour passed since Bridgette had stood on the threshold, her heartbeat racing because of the encounter with Luke’s ex-girlfriend.
Did the words exchanged with Julia warrant repeating?
She didn’t think they did, especially if the other woman got the hint and left Luke alone.
“See you tomorrow night,” she said. After giving a little wave, she stepped onto the landing.
“Hey, Bridgette.”
She turned. Luke stood on the threshold.
“Yes?”
“You are full of surprises, you know. I’m glad that you came home even if you’ll only be here for a little while.”
Full of surprises. The phrase left her cold and light-headed. If Luke knew the secret that she’d kept all these years he might not think her so charming, and he definitely would not be happy to have her back in Braxville.
* * *
Julia’s stomach roiled and felt as if she might retch. Gripping the mail cart’s handle, she trudged down the hall. Each step was a struggle, as if she were wading through mud. Her thoughts were like a handful of pebbles in a stream, a jumble that tumbled over one another again and again.
Had Luke started dating someone else?
Had he really forgotten Julia?
Had the woman, Bridgette, really replaced Julia in Luke’s life and in his heart?
And most important, how could she get him back?
A stack of letters lay atop the pile. All of them were addressed to Mr. Colton. As were her orders, Julia was to leave all correspondence with Mr. Colton’s assistant. Today, her chair was empty.
The door to the boss’s office was open. Sitting at his desk, head bent over a sheet of paper, Mr. Colton examined the report. Julia moved closer, as if drawn by a magnet. Was this her chance to meet the great man and perhaps impress him by showing diligence to her job.
She knocked softly. Mr. Colton looked up.
Julia held the stack of mail. “These are for you,” she said. “Your assistant isn’t at her desk and I wasn’t sure...”
Before she finished her sentence, Mr. Colton dropped his eyes back to the report while holding out his hand. “I’ll take them.”
Stepping forward, she placed the mail in his outstretched palm. Her eye was drawn to a credenza at his back. The wooden top was filled with pho
tos in expensive-looking frames of silver and gilt.
The largest one, set in the middle of the arrangement, was filled with smiling faces, all of them bearing a resemblance to each other and to Mr. Colton. Without question, it was a family photo. Right in the middle, smile wide and bright, with her arms wrapped around Mr. Colton’s neck was Bridgette—the bitch.
Julia gasped.
Mr. Colton looked up from his desk. The overhead light reflected on the spot where his hair was thinning. “Can I help you with something else?”
Damn. She’d been caught staring. “That picture,” said Julia. “The one with your wife and kids, I guess.”
Mr. Colton spun around in his large leather chair. “This one?” he asked, picking up the frame before facing front.
“Yeah,” she said. “I know that girl, the one in the middle.”
“Bridgette? Did you go to school with her? Were you in her graduating class?”
If Bridgette and Luke were the same age, then they were both seven years older than Julia. She tried—not successfully, though—to take no offense that Mr. Colton thought she looked to be over thirty years old.
“School? No, I think she’s friends with my friend.”
Mr. Colton set the picture on the corner of his desk. “Really? Who?”
“Luke Walker.”
“Luke Walker. He was a good kid. Almost as smart as Bridgette. Damn shame his dad got ill. I always thought that Luke should’ve gone to engineering school. He was good with math, that one.”
He was a good kid. Even though his daughter, an obvious slut, was spending the night at his apartment?
“It looks like you’ve got a lot of mail to deliver and I won’t keep you,” said Mr. Colton.
Julia knew when she’d been dismissed. “Have a nice day,” she said, backing out of the office.
“Uh-huh,” he said, not bothering to look up.
At first Julia thought she hated Bridgette for stealing Luke. But she had been wrong—she loathed the other woman. Bridgette’s life was everything that Julia’s should be.
Colton's Secret History Page 6