Only for You

by Melissa Foster

  He unlocked the door, feeling like a jealous fool.

  Bridgette stepped into the foyer and stopped, sniffing the air. Confusion mapped her forehead. “What is that smell?”

  “It smells like a restaurant,” Louie said, pushing past her with one arm around Dahlia.

  Bridgette’s eyes narrowed. “Bodhi . . . ?”

  He shrugged and followed her into the kitchen. Louie and Dahlia headed for the playroom. Bridgette dropped the takeout bags on the table and went to the French doors, gazing out at the table on the porch, set with three place settings.

  Bodhi set the house key and flowers on the table.

  “Bodhi,” she said, turning to face him. “What have you done?”

  He led her out of sight from the hallway and gathered her in his arms. “You’ve been working so hard, I thought I’d make you and Louie dinner.”

  She sighed and touched his chest. “Bodhi.”

  “I know it’s all too much, but this might be the only chance I’ll ever get to feel like this. Just go with it, Bridge. Friend to friend.”

  “Bodhi,” she said just above a whisper. “I wasn’t going to say it was too much. I was going to say that I was wrong about the flowers. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  He embraced her. “I’m just going with what I feel, because I want you to look back on our time together and know it was worth trusting me and sharing your incredible little boy with me.”

  “Bodhi,” she whispered.

  “Don’t say anything. Please. Let’s just have dinner, take the little dude and Dahlia for a walk down by the lake, and enjoy what time we’ve got left.” He took a step away to try to regain control of his emotions. “I made lasagna.”

  He said, “Louie’s favorite,” at the same time she did.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “He told me when we were fixing the playset. That boy has got a long list of favorite things.” He pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

  She smiled. “Tell me about it.”

  “I made it at my place and brought it over so it would be here when you got home. There’s salad in the fridge.”

  “You’re like a triple threat. Hot, sweet behind all that badassness, and you can cook.”

  He stepped so close her body heat flooded him. His arm circled her waist, and he hugged her against him. “Careful using words like sweet that paint me as a pansy, or I’ll have to prove to you just how manly I really am.”

  “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  He took her in a demanding, possessive kiss, blowing sweet out of the water and leaving no room for anything but too fucking hot to breathe. She came away breathless, and he cocked a brow.

  “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

  She touched her lips and reached for the counter, as if she needed it to remain erect. “Maybe,” she whispered, “you should show me again.”

  And he did. He kissed her until she dug her nails into his skin, making a needy sound in the back of her throat.

  “Louie,” he said softly, and turned away to adjust his painful erection. He glanced over his shoulder as he took a tray of rolls out of the oven, and chuckled at the dreamy look in her eyes. “Louie also told me that you have a thing for sweet potato rolls, and he hates them.”

  She fidgeted with the ends of her hair, holding his gaze. “Yeah. I sure do like them. I like them a whole lot more than I should.”

  He stepped toward her, intent on getting one more kiss, but Louie and Dahlia came around the corner.

  “I’m starving.” Louie pulled out a chair at the table and climbed up.

  The interruption was a blessing in disguise. He was becoming all too swept up in his beautiful girl.

  He carried the lasagna over to Louie. “What do you think, little dude? Can you do some damage to this lasagna?”

  “Lasagna!” His eyes widened. “Can we give the Chinese food to Dahlia?”

  “She’ll get a bellyache from Chinese food. How about if we ask your mom if you can feed Dahlia breakfast tomorrow before you go meet Grandma Roxie?”

  “Can I, Mom?” Louie asked hopefully. “And can I go outside with Dahlia just for a minute before we eat?”

  “Yes, and yes, but stay in the backyard.”

  “I will!” Louie bolted out the back door with Dahlia.

  “I hope that was okay.” Bodhi closed the distance between them. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I have no clue how to do what we’re doing, and it’s driving me up the wall.”

  “I disagree. You know exactly how to do whatever it is we’re doing.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE NEXT TWO days flew by, and before Bridgette knew it, it was Saturday afternoon, and they were on their way to New York City. She’d been so excited about their weekend away, she’d closed the flower shop early. Bodhi had bought tickets to see The Lion King, and Louie had watched the movie twice since they’d mentioned it. Louie chatted the whole first half of the almost two-hour drive. Bridgette worried that his incessant talking might grate on Bodhi’s nerves, but Bodhi took it all in stride. Now Dahlia slept on the seat beside Louie, and Louie, having worn himself out, was fast asleep.

  Bodhi reached for Bridgette’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. He held it until they hit stop-and-go traffic in the city, when Louie woke up like a bundle of energy ready to explode.

  Louie peered out the window. “There’s no grass here. Where will Dahlia go poop?”

  Bodhi chuckled. “I’ll show you when we take her for a walk.”

  The three of them had taken Dahlia for a walk along the lake Thursday and Friday evenings. Louie had found it hilarious that Bodhi had to pick up Dahlia’s poop with a plastic bag, and he declared that he was never getting a dog of his own. Bodhi tried to teach him how to skip rocks in the water, and when that proved to be too difficult, Bodhi showed him how to toss a handful of pebbles into the water so they looked like rain. Louie had mastered that and then ran around the grass with Dahlia until he was so tuckered out, Bodhi had given him a shoulder ride home.

  Bridgette wondered what Louie would think of this fast-paced concrete jungle, and she had to admit, she was curious to see how she’d feel about it, too, after all these years.

  Gazing out at the busy sidewalks and looming buildings, she felt her nerves prickling. She glanced into the backseat at her curious boy. Dahlia was watching Louie as intently as Bodhi did. Bodhi drove with his jaw tight and his eyes serious. He looked over and smiled, then nodded curtly in that reassuring way he had, and set his focus back on the road. And just like that, her nerves calmed.

  She watched couples holding hands as they hurried along the sidewalk, and single men and women walking so fast and determined she wondered what could be so important. The last time she was there, they’d been driven from the venue to the hotel and back in private cars with blacked-out windows. They’d partied and laughed and had a great time, but she realized she’d never seen any of the tourist sights. At the time, just the energy of the city had been alluring, and she’d seen it as the ultimate place to live. Now she couldn’t imagine raising Louie there. She’d changed, and she would never know if it was because of Jerry’s death, because Louie depended on her, or if she would have one day grown up to be the person she was now. But she knew two things for sure. Some part of her would always be in love with wild, reckless Jerry, and she was thankful for the heart’s ability to heal—because she was falling hard for a very serious, extraordinarily special man, who would one day soon break it anew.

  “IT SMELLS FUNNY in here,” Louie said as he climbed out of the car in the parking garage.

  “Once we’re out of the parking garage it’ll smell better,” Bridgette said. The air was thick with exhaust and traffic noises, and she found herself stepping closer to Bodhi and Louie.

  “But it’ll never smell like Sweetwater,” Bodhi said.

  He swung their bags over his shoulder with a look in his eyes Bridgette couldn�
�t read. Was it a look of disappointment? Or was it a warning—reestablishing their line in the sand? She found herself hoping for the first.

  He held Dahlia’s leash in one hand and settled a hand protectively on Louie’s shoulder. “I’ll come down and get the other bag when I take Dahlia out.”

  “I can get it.” Bridgette reached for the bag in the trunk, and he touched her arm, stopping her.

  “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly, and firmly. “I’ll grab it later.”

  Her mind sailed back in time, to when she’d traveled with Jerry. Handlers had taken care of their luggage, and they had been so young, they’d treated life like one big, carefree adventure. Then again, their world had been one party after the next, one city after another, where Bodhi’s life was spent saving lives in the most dangerous places. She’d never seen herself as someone who needed taking care of, but she enjoyed the way Bodhi watched out for them. She had also come to adore his serious demeanor, treasuring every secret smile, stolen touch, and furtive glance.

  As they waited for the elevators and she watched Louie’s awe-filled gaze take in the upscale lobby, the true weight of their visit sank in. Bodhi was as private as a person could be, yet here they were, entering the most intimate aspect of his life, spending the night in his home. This was a huge step, even if neither one of them was willing to acknowledge it.

  Two women and an elderly gentleman were also waiting for the elevator. The women scrolled through their phones, faces serious, dressed in high heels and professional outfits. The elderly man stared straight ahead.

  Louie squeezed her hand and grabbed Bodhi’s pants leg.

  Bodhi took his hand with a warm and concerned gaze. “You okay?”

  Louie nodded.

  In the elevator, Dahlia sat beside Bodhi as if she knew she was home and was expected to behave differently than she did in their yard. Bodhi was right. Taking care of Dahlia wasn’t so different from caring for a little boy. Love, patience, and routines were the foundation of both relationships.

  A few minutes later, Bodhi opened the door to his condo and unleashed Dahlia. She ran inside sniffing everything in her path, and Louie followed her down a hallway.

  “Louie—”

  Bodhi touched her hand. “He’s fine. I have nothing he can get into. Let me set the bags in the bedrooms, and I’ll be right back.”

  As she stepped farther into his home, she thought about the keep-your-distance vibes Bodhi gave off to most everyone. He was anything but warm and fuzzy, yet his home exuded an air of warmth. Dark hardwood floors ran beneath a plush throw rug, comfortable-looking, well-loved leather couches, and a heavy, masculine dining room table. Shelves lined the wall to her left, filled with books and photographs, and across the room, glass doors led to a large balcony that appeared to have more furniture than the living room and dining room combined. Drawn by the sight of large marble planters overflowing with lush greenery and colorful flowers, she went to the balcony doors.

  Bridgette’s body flooded with awareness seconds before Bodhi touched her hip.

  “Is Louie getting into things?”

  “No,” he assured her. “He’s checking things out, looking out the windows, sitting on the beds. He’s fine.”

  She turned toward him, struck again by his rugged handsomeness. As excited as she was for Louie to experience the Big Apple, she couldn’t help wishing she could snuggle up on the balcony in Bodhi’s arms and kiss him until morning. “I really like your place, and your balcony is beautiful. It’s your own secret garden.”

  “Thanks. The city can be oppressive, and the outdoor living space and plants help me feel less like I’m living where there’s no air.” His fingers trailed lightly over hers. “I’ve never had anyone over before, besides Shira and my mother. Do you think this will be okay for you and Louie tonight?”

  He pointed to a small kitchen just beyond the dining room. “I had my housekeeper buy food I thought you and Louie would like even though we’re eating out tonight. Just in case he gets tired, or changes his mind and would rather stay in.”

  He’d thought of everything. “It’s perfect.”

  She gazed into his eyes, wondering about all the unsaid things between them. What if he wasn’t called in for an assignment for months after he left Sweetwater? She knew he had no way of knowing if that might happen, but that didn’t stop the nagging question from lingering in her mind. Would he want to chance falling harder for each other and continue seeing each other if he knew he could, or was this really it? She’d agreed to this . . . fling? That felt ten types of wrong. This wasn’t a fling. This was real, but so was the little boy in the other room. The boy who counted on her to make smart decisions for both of them. Now, if she could only convince herself that this was a fling, that would make reining in her emotions a lot easier.

  BODHI WAS USED to plowing through chaos while acutely aware of his surroundings, but as they made their way along Times Square, the city felt different with Bridgette and Louie by his side. It was even more oppressive and stressful. The lack of green space had never bothered him before, but when they’d taken Dahlia for a walk, the difference between Dahlia and Louie running around Sugar Lake and their leashed existence in the city had irked him. Seeing Louie’s face light up with every new discovery was as addicting as Bridgette’s smile, but Bodhi was even more vigilant about the people and things around them. It was killing him not to scoop Louie into his arms, tuck Bridgette against his side, and keep them so close nothing could harm them.

  “How come we don’t take cabs at home?” Louie asked. He’d been fascinated with the whole idea of riding in a cab when they’d taken one on their way to Times Square.

  “Because Sweetwater is a small town, and we can walk almost everywhere,” Bridgette answered.

  “Maybe I’ll be a cabdriver when I grow up.” Louie blinked up at Bodhi. “But I’m probably going to play for the Yankees.”

  Bodhi loved his confidence. “I think you’ll be great at whatever you want to do.”

  “If I play for the Yankees, can I sleep at your house sometimes?” Louie asked.

  Yes was on the tip of his tongue. In the hour they’d spent in the condo, his home already felt more alive than it ever had. They’d explained to Louie that Bodhi lived there and he was only in Sweetwater for another week. Louie had asked if Bodhi would still let him walk Dahlia when he came to visit his mother in her new house and if they could still watch a movie together sometimes. It had nearly killed him to agree when he had no idea how much of a future he’d have. He didn’t know how he’d leave them at the end of next week, much less how he’d handle things when his mother eventually moved there. There was no way he’d be able to visit without wanting to be the only man in their lives. But Louie was oblivious to their turmoil, and he was glad for that.

  He bought Louie a Yankees baseball cap and shirt to wear to the game tomorrow, and they went into every shop Bridgette and Louie wanted to. When they came to a jewelry store, Bridgette slowed to admire a display.

  “I haven’t seen you wear much jewelry,” he said as she hoisted Louie up to look at the display. “What kind of jewelry do you like?”

  She looked at him for a long, silent moment, and he heard warning signals going off. She must have, too, because she said, “I’m not that into jewelry,” and continued walking down the street.

  Louie wiggled out of her arms, taking up the space between them again. “Look at all the lights.” He pointed at the glowing signs on the sides of the buildings. “Do they turn them off when they go to sleep?”

  “Some do,” Bodhi said.

  They joined a crowd of people waiting to cross the street, and Bodhi moved so he had one hand on Louie and one on Bridgette’s lower back. Bridgette flashed her killer smile, and it quickly smoldered.

  Louie gasped and pointed to a food truck, jolting them out of their secret moment. “Pizza from a truck! Can we eat dinner there? Please?”

  Bridgette and Bodhi exchanged a glance, and he s
hrugged, giving her the option.

  “Please?” Louie begged. “We can eat while we walk down the street. We never do that. Please, Mom?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, knowing Bodhi wouldn’t care if they skipped having dinner at a restaurant. “Every kid should eat pizza while they walk down the street at least once, right?”

  Louie’s excitement didn’t waver while he ate and talked and walked, getting pizza sauce all over his cheeks and shirt. He was too adorable for words.

  Bridgette cleaned him up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Best dinner ever.”

  “Can we ride in one of those?” Louie pointed to a horse-drawn carriage.

  “We have tickets to see The Lion King tonight,” Bridgette reminded him. “I don’t think we have time.”

  “But I’ve seen The Lion King, and I’ve never ridden in one of those. Please?”

  They stepped out of the way of the people walking by, and she knelt beside him. “Honey, we’re going to see a play, with real people, and—”

  “But I see real people every day,” Louie insisted. “Please, please, please?”

  Bodhi touched Bridgette’s shoulder, and she stood to talk to him. He whispered in her ear, “Would you mind if we gave him the option to make this decision?”

  She looked down at Louie, who was practically salivating over the horse-drawn carriage. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can pay you back for the tickets.”

  “I’ll take you up on that, but I don’t accept cash. Think you can come up with another way to make it up to me?”

  She blushed a red streak as he knelt beside Louie.

  “Louie,” he said in his most serious tone. “This is a big decision, and I want you to think hard about what I say, okay?”

  Louie nodded vehemently, his little brows pulled together. He was so cute Bodhi wanted to smile, but he needed Louie to understand the seriousness of his decision.

  “If you choose the carriage ride instead of going to see the play, you can’t change your mind later. The same way baseball players have to run around all three bases to get to home plate, the driver of the carriage has to stay on track the whole way. He can’t change directions and take us to the play. Do you understand what that means?”