“I assure you we have, Ms. Gallagher.”
“Prescott…” She could feel the entreaty rising.
No. Pen Gallagher didn’t beg.
“What is it, Ms. Gallagher? Once you give Human Resources your current address, your severance package will be on its way within twenty-four hours, as will the contents of your office. Be grateful we’re offering even that. There is nothing else for us to discuss.”
Convicted without even a preliminary hearing. No request for her version of events. Her knees would barely hold her, but she managed one parting shot.
“We’ll see.”
She disconnected the phone and only barely avoided sinking to the sidewalk.
Bridger watched her go stiff, then…shrink. As she carried on the conversation, the fingers of one hand pressed between her brows, shielding her eyes. He couldn’t read her expression, but her body language worried him.
He started toward her.
She punched the phone to disconnect and let the hand holding the phone drop to her side, staring sightlessly into the distance.
“Penelope? What is it?”
She shook as if only now remembering where she was. Her shoulders straightened, her back went ramrod stiff, but when her face turned to his, all he could see was…devastation.
“What happened?”
“I…they…” Her eyes suddenly glistened, and she quickly averted her gaze.
He closed the distance between them. Gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “Tell me.”
“My partnership in the firm has been revoked. I’ve worked for it since I was eighteen.” Ravaged blue eyes looked up at him, making his heart ache.
His first instinct was to jump on a plane and go kick some ass.
Resignation was a shroud over her normally mobile features. “I…it’s…over. I’m…I’ve…lost. Everything.”
Not everything, he wanted to say. You have me. I could—
What? Offer her the life of a fireman’s wife in Tennessee? A starring role as Suzy Homemaker?
Good grief. Was he actually thinking that he…? That she and he…?
Apparently he was.
But he looked at the grief in her eyes and knew. Even if he had more to offer her, giving up on her own dream would forever alter her. Could…break her. The arrogant princess, the sexy termagant, the playful mischief-maker would be forever lost.
It was more than possible, he realized, that he might love her.
But it was certain that this was a crossroads. And that what he had to offer was not what she needed.
Refusing to ring that bell and drop out of BUD/S had changed his life, had given him a confidence he’d never before possessed. This was her BUD/S, and she deserved the sense of power she’d gain from confronting this situation on her own. However much he wished otherwise.
She had to go back. That was the life she’d planned, the one she’d never wanted to leave. This time they’d had was a detour. The day had come—they’d never pretended it wouldn’t—to get back on their separate paths.
He might want to step in front of her, to do damage to all those bastards who had hurt her, but that would be robbing her of her own sense of power.
He might want just as much to cuddle her, to soothe her, to give her shelter.
But the man-killer in stilettos, the arrogant Princess…that’s who she was. Who he’d fallen for but couldn’t have. They would never suit, however much fun they’d had together.
It was time for her to go back.
And he had to help her.
“You gonna let them get away with that BS?”
It took her a minute, sunk in misery as she was. Then her head snapped up. “What?”
“I thought you were tougher than this.”
“Bridger, I can’t—”
“Can’t what, Princess? You’re trying to tell me that the woman who talked me into green goo on my face, the one who led all the boys in Sweetgrass around by their family jewels—” He smiled a grin he didn’t feel. “What you’ve accomplished took grit. Nobody helped you make that climb. So why does some weak-ass ambulance chaser without the cojones to tell you in person get to say you’re done?”
“The partners have already met. Without even asking me if it’s true, my firm wants me out. I’m damaged goods.”
“And you accept that? Come on. You’re telling me that a bunch of old dudes who’ve been playing power games in DC for all these years don’t have any dirty laundry? Or that pathetic excuse for a senator?” He summoned a sneer. “What happened to the man-eater in stilettos I first met? You ready to settle in here and bake pies and quilt?” However much he might wish the answer was yes, something inside her would suffer if she gave up without fighting.
“It’s what you want, right? A little hausfrau with a passel of blonde children clinging to her skirts?”
Not if she’s not you, he realized.
Wow. When had that changed? He would be thinking about that…later. Right now, helping her give up would be the worst thing he could do. “That’s not you, Legs. You made that clear from the first. Am I wrong?”
She looked at him. Studied him.
“You’re not wrong. That was never me.” She smiled sadly. “And you know it, too.”
He couldn’t change either. He knew what he needed. What he was determined to have. Had dreamed of for half his life.
And he was nobody’s consolation prize. He’d rather spend his life alone than have her because she settled. He refused to be forever connected in her mind with accepting defeat.
He wanted to be her first choice, the realization dawned.
Wanted to be her dream.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” she said in a small voice completely unsuited to the larger than life woman she was.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said gently, then turned away so he wouldn’t beg. “Look, I’d better—I have to check in with Mackey. See if I can help him with anything before I go.”
“You’re leaving?”
Their paths would part here. The fling was done. They’d always known it would happen, had been of like mind on the topic.
A little playtime. A surprising amount of fun. No harm, no foul…walk away.
The end.
The silence stung with memories of laughter. Of fevered caresses, of intimacy beyond the physical.
But there was no help for it. What they wanted was too different; who they were was worlds apart. There was nothing to do but…move on.
There was nothing for him here. Yes, he liked Sweetgrass a lot, felt at home here—but now every corner of it bore her imprint. She’d haunt his every step when she was gone.
Anyway, he had a job to get back to, just as she did.
“Yeah,” he said without turning back, but he couldn’t completely let her go. “You have my number if, you know, you need a friend to talk to.” Though it would tear his heart out to be relegated to that.
“I’m scared, Bridger.” So quiet he nearly didn’t hear.
Damn it. He wheeled and returned to her. Snatched her up against him and all but squeezed the life out of her. “I know you are, but they’re no match for you, Penelope. I know you can do this, honey, and you do, too.”
But, damn, how he itched to go deal some hurt on her behalf. Or find some loophole in their opposing visions for their lives, some common ground that would allow them to bridge all that divided them.
She’d been clear, though, and so had he. They’d always known this was short term.
No hearts were supposed to be involved.
His seemed to have missed the memo.
Since he couldn’t change any of that, he focused on absorbing the feel of her one last time, reveled in holding her close, in how their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. “Knock ’em dead, Legs.”
Then he pressed one last, fast kiss to those lips that he had a feeling would haunt him for a lifetime. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
Tears slowly rolled over
her lashes and spilled down those stunning cheeks. He thought he could look at those blue eyes forever and never get enough. “You can do this,” he repeated. “Say it. Say I’m gonna kick their pansy asses.”
Her mouth struggled to curve as emotions dueled in her gaze. “I’m gonna…” She sucked in a steadying breath. “I’m gonna kick their pansy asses.”
He thumbed beneath her eye, his skin dampening with her tears. “Damn straight you are.”
She visibly drew herself up proud and tall.
Her courage only made him want even worse to storm D.C. and do some serious damage.
After he locked her away in a cozy cabin where he’d keep her in his bed and his life for the next hundred years or so.
But then she’d never know if she could have done it, and she was too valiant for that. By protecting her, he’d break something essential inside her, and that wasn’t love.
“You can do this, Pen Gallagher.” He deliberately used that name that so did not reflect the soft, playful woman he’d discovered, the sexy, mischievous vixen whose heart was much more tender than she’d admit.
She wheeled to go, then halted. “Bridger, thank you. For…everything.”
If she turned those beautiful blue eyes on him again…
“Go get ’em, Legs.”
He turned away before she could turn back.
Ruby studied the scene taking place in front of the cafe, too far away to hear what had happened.
But not too far to see that something was wrong. Strong emotions were nearly visible in the air between them, and she wondered what had been said. Though Penny was high-strung, Bridger was normally the most easygoing man she knew. It was one reason all the kids in Sweetgrass followed him around like the Pied Piper—Bridger was a mix of big brother, indulgent father and imaginative playmate. He was so gentle and protective of the little ones that it was hard to picture him as he’d been for a number of years: a warrior. She imagined the gentle giant could be fierce when he was crossed, and it was no stretch to see how he’d guard anyone he cared about with his life.
But not once since he’d first come to Sweetgrass had she seen him get as worked up as her great-niece could make him—in the beginning, with aggravation but more recently, with sparks.
Right now they both looked miserable, and the longing was palpable as Penny let him gather her in. The pain on Bridger’s face was haunting, but resolutely he let Penny go, turning away while looking oddly…vulnerable.
Well, well, well…those two would bear some thinking about, now wouldn’t they?
Penny had been at sixes and sevens ever since she’d arrived, but so much had been going on with the surprise wedding and the workday. Part of the reason Penny was unsettled now had to be Jackson’s problems, but that still didn’t explain why Penny had seemed so tentative when she’d first arrived. Had been ill at ease ever since.
Except when sparks had flown between her and Bridger. Those sparks gave her hope for the last of this generation of Gallaghers. Scarlett and Rissa were happily married, and though Jackson and Veronica had much to overcome still, Ruby believed love would win.
That only left Penny to find the mate she deserved. The love she so desperately needed…whether she knew it or not.
Oh, Mary, Ruby said silently to Penny’s long-departed mother. Penny needs love more than any of them, but she’s going to be a hard nut to crack.
Ruby glanced out at Bridger, that strapping hunk of a firefighter who wound up in Sweetgrass an awful lot for someone who had a full-time job three states away.
And smiled.
Sweetgrass could use a real fire department, which would need a real fire chief. It was only fitting that Bridger, who’d brought the volunteers their first legitimate equipment, should be that person. Add to that his medical skills, which were so sorely needed here…
What to do about Penny, however, was a bigger challenge. High-powered attorneys were not in demand here. Her great-niece seemed to enjoy helping Scarlett cook, however, and Scarlett said she was a natural… Hmmm….
“Ruby?” Jeanette said from behind her. “Aren’t you going home to rest for a bit as usual? Have we forgotten something?’”
Ruby tapped one finger against her lower lip. “I’m not sure.” Her lips curved a little more. “But I will be studying on it, you can bet your bottom dollar.”
Jeanette followed Ruby’s gaze out toward Bridger and Penny, and her eyes narrowed. “I know that look. You’re scheming again, aren’t you?”
“I cannot imagine what you’re talking about.” She wondered how soon she could reclaim Ian, the go-to guy in Sweetgrass, from his daddy cloud and talk about Bridger with him.
Jeanette shook her head. “You are a piece of work, Ruby Gallagher—Howard,” she corrected.
“Why, thank you, dear. I admire you, too.”
Jeanette snickered, and they finished up.
Bridger heard Penelope’s car leave, itching to go after her. Instead, he turned on his heel and entered the cafe. There was one thing he could try that might help. Yeah, Jackson was probably busy as hell right now, but the man had resources.
And he owed his twin. He should know what was going on. Telling him wasn’t as satisfying as standing in front of her or going on the offensive as befitted his own skill set, but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. “Ruby, were you able to reach Jackson?”
“Not yet. You need him for something?”
“Penelope might.”
“Oh?” Her gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Too many people were still around, and this was Penelope’s news to share—or not. “She’s packing to go back to Washington.”
“Why?” Ruby touched his arm. “I don’t want her to go. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I’m free to discuss—sorry.” He ground his jaw.
“What can I do?”
“Putting me in contact with Jackson would help.” Though it burned that Bridger couldn’t be the one to supply all that she needed. “I want to talk to him before I head out. There may be things he can do that none of us can.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to Tennessee.”
“Why?”
“I do have a job, you know.”
“But—” Her expression was…mysterious. “When will you be back?”
“No idea. I guess I’ll come visit sometime, but probably not soon.” There would be too many memories now.
“Bridger…” She seemed troubled.
“Is something wrong? Can I do anything for you?”
For a moment she looked away, clearly wrestling with something. Suddenly he was reminded that no matter how indomitable this woman seemed to be, she was not young, and she’d been carrying a whole town on her slender shoulders for a long time. “Ruby?”
She gathered herself. “Never mind, dear.” Patted his arm. “Come with me.”
“You know you can call me for help anytime.”
She glanced back at him and smiled. “I do know that. You’re a very good man, Bridger Calhoun.”
He followed her to the little office and waited for her to dial. As soon as it began ringing, she handed him the phone. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She returned to the kitchen.
“Aunt Ruby?” came the voice on the phone. “Are you all right?”
“She’s fine,” Bridger said. “Look, I know you’re busy—we’ve seen the news—and I’m sorry as hell to pile on, but your sister needs you, too, and it’s urgent.”
“Who is this?”
“Bridger Calhoun.”
“Are you talking about Penny?”
“Yeah. She’s in trouble.”
“What’s going on?”
That there was honest concern in Jackson’s voice counted with Bridger and cooled his temper. “You know about the guy in D.C.?”
“What? No. I knew something was wrong and she said she’d tell me, but—”
“You’ve had a few things going on.”
/>
“A few.” Jackson exhaled. “Tell me what’s happening with Penny.”
Bridger took some satisfaction from knowing she’d confided in no one else—even if he faced a dilemma now. He settled for a sketchy description of what she’d told him about the potential scandal.
“Somehow her law firm found out,” he continued, “And now they want to invoke some kind of ethics complaint so they don’t even have to buy her out, they can just drop her flat. Kick her to the curb.”
“No way they get to do that. I’ll put my people on it.” Jackson’s voice was ice.
“No. You won’t.”
“Look, just because you’re sleeping with my sister—”
“You don’t understand her at all if you think sending in your people or throwing around your money is what she needs.”
“That’s why I have money, to make things happen. To protect the people I love.”
“Like you protected her when you left her wondering if you were even alive…for years?”
The way he’d done with his own siblings? He exhaled in a gust. “Look, throwing around insults isn’t helping her. And she’d be pissed that I’m talking to you about anything, but…” What exactly did he think Jackson could do from Seattle? “I’m just frustrated as hell that the things I’m good at won’t help her at all, not in a way she’d want. I mean, I could kill those guys without breaking a sweat, but…”
Jackson chuckled. “Yeah. Wouldn’t go over well.”
“But I couldn’t just…” He exhaled in a gust. “I thought you should know.”
“Somebody should go with her—”
“You think I don’t want to? Or better yet, tuck her away and go after those bastards myself?”
“So why aren’t you?”
“Because she’s too valiant for that. Stepping in front of her is saying she’s too weak to fight for herself. To win. And she’s not weak. She’s an Amazon. A warrior goddess. She can take care of herself.” Bridger sighed. “Even if I don’t want her to. But that’s not respecting her, stepping in front of her to play the big man.”
“Kinda sounds like you two got pretty involved. You in love with my sister, Bridger?”
“What? No.” If he was, that was private. “I care about her, of course. She’s an amazing woman, but we’re from different worlds. It could never work.”
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