Machine: A Bad Boy Romance: Barnes Family Book 2

by Normandie Alleman

  “Yes, she’s something of a character.”

  “That’s good. I like that.”

  “Yeah, she’s not like people think she’s going to be. She’s real down-to-earth.”

  He nodded.

  I was so nervous that I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I folded them together in my lap. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I was a little embarrassed when you dropped me off the other night and you wouldn’t come in.”

  He glanced over at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  But that was all he said. I waited for more of an explanation, and apparently I wasn’t getting one. This guy didn’t seem to get it.

  Oh well. I’d go out with him, but if he kept being weird, that would be it. I needed to make the best of whatever happened on this date—deal with the present. And if things didn’t go well, then I could be the one to reject him. That was a situation I’d be much more comfortable with than what had gone on the other night.

  But as much as I’d like to have the upper hand in this pairing, I found myself wishing we were going dancing. I craved being in his arms again. Even a foot away, I could smell his cologne or deodorant. Whatever it was it drove me wild. And the way his shirt hugged every ridge of his muscles and showed every ripple as he moved…

  I had to remind myself to breathe, I was getting so swept away by the proximity of him.

  Fortunately, it didn’t take long before we arrived at the shooting range. I was afraid if I didn’t get out of that car soon I might combust.

  “This is it? It’s outside?”

  “Yep. This is it.” On TV, they always did the shooting inside. The place was nice enough, but it reminded me more of a driving range for golfers than where the TV cops always went to practice.

  Bridger got out and came around to open my door for me, saying, “This is a small operation, run by a guy I know. I called ahead just to be sure there wasn’t a big event going on here today. I didn’t want you to be overrun with people asking for your autograph or anything like that. I wanted you to be able to have fun. Relax a little bit.”

  “Thank you. That was awfully thoughtful of you.” Most places I went were crawling with fans, so it was nice that he’d thought this through and brought me to a place where I could just chill out.

  We were greeted by a guy in a pair of overalls. “Hey, Bridger. This must be the young lady you were telling me about.” I don’t think he recognized me, which was just as well. I didn’t need anyone snapping pictures of me to sell to the tabloids, thank you very much.

  “Yep. This is Dynassy. I was hoping we could set her up with some targets.”

  The man offered me a hand, which I shook. “No problem. And nice to meet you.”

  Then Bridger placed a hand on my shoulder. “Will you be all right here? I need to run back to the car and get my gun case.”

  “Sure.”

  “Be right back,” he said. I hoped he didn’t take too long. I really liked his hand on my shoulder.

  When he came back, Bridger showed me the basics with the rifle, all the safety stuff, which I know is important, but it was boring as well—how to hold the gun, how to load the gun, how to aim the gun, etc. First, he had me shooting at targets a hundred yards out with a rifle.

  The gun had a little bit of a kickback but it wasn’t too bad. After my first shot, I asked anxiously, “Did I hit it? Did I hit it?”

  Bridger looked through the scope. At first he didn’t answer, but then he laughed. “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, you hit the target next to yours.” He tried to hide his grin, but it was impossible.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No. That’s okay. Try again and aim at this one.” He set me up, hopefully with the rifle pointed at the correct target.

  I shot again. “How about this time?”

  He looked puzzled. “Those bullets are all straying off to the side. Dynassy, would you happen to be left-handed?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because I’ve been teaching you all wrong. I should have taught you to shoot left-handed. I’m sorry I didn’t ask. Here, let me change up some things and show you a better way.”

  He had me slip the gun against my left shoulder. “Squeeze your right eye closed instead of your left one.”

  I did what he said, and as soon as I got lined up, I started hitting the correct target.

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, that’s much better. My bad.”

  After I got the hang of it, my nerves calmed down and I started to really enjoy myself. At first I’d been pretty disappointed in my performance. The people on TV made it look so much easier than it was, but once I was shooting left-handed, my performance improved significantly.

  I looked through the scope, lined up the shot, held still and squeezed the trigger. Crack!

  “Outstanding! You just made a bull’s-eye.” Bridger seemed seriously impressed. His excitement was infectious. He stood behind me and put his arms around me, showing me how to get a steadier position. I’m not sure what he was saying because all I could think about was how good he smelled and how much I was enjoying his embrace. This was what I’d been wanting, and it felt even better than I remembered.

  After a few more rounds, Bridger decided to he wanted to teach me to shoot a pistol.

  “I’ve never done that.”

  He gave me a wink. “You never forget your first time. It’ll be fun.”

  The twinge of lust between my legs intensified, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to concentrate on learning something new when all I could think about was how much I wanted him to take me right there.

  He stood behind me, his arms wrapped around mine as he showed me the stance and how to shoot the Glock.

  “Now feel the power in your hand and squeeze.” When he finally pressed his body up against me, showing me how to get the proper grip, I expected to feel his erection press against the small of my back. I was a little disappointed when that didn’t occur but maybe this was more serious than sexy for him. Or maybe it was me. Was I too horny and desperate?

  Whatever it was, I’d never expected shooting a gun to get me so worked up. I wasn’t quite as good at shooting a handgun as I had been the rifle, but by that point, I didn’t really care. My thoughts were on other things.

  After a while, I got to see Bridger shoot a few times. He regularly hit the bull’s-eye with only one or two stray shots.

  Impressive. This guy really was a war hero, a great shot, and such a protective guy. There was something about him that made me feel safe, like I was enveloped in his protection, and as long as I was with him, nothing bad would ever happen to me. Crazy, I know, but his presence had a powerful effect on me.

  Later, after we’d gotten back in the car, Bridger asked, “So, what did you think?”

  “It was fun. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”

  “Good. I’m glad. Want to go get something to eat?”

  I couldn’t help but let a big smile spread across my face. “That sounds great.”

  He took me to a quaint little diner. Another sort of place I’d only seen in movies or on television. I was starting to think that life with Bridger was more Hollywood than the lives of my friends who lived in Hollywood. He went out and did things. Not just went to fancy parties and jetted around the world. He actually lived.

  I raked my fork over the chicken and dumplings Bridger had recommended I get. They were delicious. “So, why’d you take me shooting?”

  “I’m a big believer that everybody should know how to defend themselves. You probably have enough bodyguards that you don’t feel that way, but it’s also a great way to blow off steam.”

  “I had a good time.”

  “I’m glad you left the bodyguards at home today.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and it made my heart thump in my chest.

  “I f
igured you’d be able to protect me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  I believed he’d protect me from other dangers, but who was going to protect my heart from him?

  8

  Dynassy

  * * *

  As Bridger pulled into my driveway, something dropped out of the bottom of my stomach. I don’t want this night to end.

  We’d had such a good time, but I had promised myself that I would not invite him in. If he wanted to come inside, he could be the one to ask. But I had a bad feeling that if he had wanted to be alone with me, he probably would have taken me back to his place instead of just bringing me back to my family home.

  Such a gentleman, Bridger came around and opened my door for me then helped me out of the car. As he placed his hand on the small of my back and steered me towards the front door, I crossed my fingers, hoping he would kiss me good night.

  When we got there, he took me by the hand and tugged me into an alcove that was not as well lit. The spot under the eaves gave us a little more privacy, and there, he took me into his arms, held me close, and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was tentative at first, but soon the passionate side of Bridger drowned his politeness and his mouth crushed me, and his tongue invaded my mouth, hungrily searching.

  My legs wobbled, and I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck, not only because I wanted to get my hands into that curly mop of his, but also so he could help steady me in case my knees gave out. The longer our mouths stayed connected, the more our bodies yearned to be touching in every place possible—my legs inched closer, his arms tightened around me.

  My hands roamed, as did his. I played with his hair and stroked his back. The smell of him making me wet with desire. He cupped my ass and pressed my pelvis tighter against him. I felt the rise of his erection pulsing against my hip through our clothes. His other hand traveled over the curves of my breast down to my waist, over my hips. I felt my nipples harden, and I was starting to feel there was hope for the rest of the evening after all.

  Because I definitely wanted him. Needed him inside me. I wanted to feel the weight of this man on top of me as he plunged into me until we both found our release and collapsed on top of each other.

  Then Bridger pulled away, muttering, “I’m sorry, Dynassy.”

  “Wait. What’s wrong?” I reached out and clasped his forearm.

  “Nothing’s wrong. You’re an incredibly attractive woman. I just, well…I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  And with that, he strode to his car.

  I stood there, watching him go, wilting like a morning glory when the sun goes down.

  Disappointment washed over me and settled in my veins, and I wished hard that I didn’t like Bridger Thompson so frickin’ much. I wished I could just write him off and never see him again.

  But something deep inside knew it wasn’t just sex I needed him for. It was him I needed. The way he made me feel safe and protected. The way he liked me for the girl I was, and not the superstar I was.

  Yes, I knew the next time Bridger called, I’d pick up the phone.

  And in the meantime, I wouldn’t stop thinking about him.

  The next morning, I came down for breakfast to find Ivy toasting some bagels for her and Leo, and my mother making scrambled eggs. It was just like breakfast in any other American household. Except for the rolling cameras. And the lights, and the production crew.

  Ah, home sweet home.

  “Good morning, honey. I’m making eggs. Want some?” Lucinda asked. We had a chef, but she only worked lunch and dinner unless it was a special occasion.

  “I’d love some. What about sausage?”

  That made Leo giggle, then Ivy followed suit.

  “Sure. I can do that,” Lucinda obliged.

  “You guys are so immature,” I said snootily to the twins.

  “What?” Lucinda was oblivious.

  Leo snickered. “I’m guessing you didn’t get any ‘sausage’ last night.”

  Ivy laughed. “Good one.”

  “Ugh! You two are so juvenile.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lucinda asked as she cracked open an egg and let it fall into the silver mixing bowl.

  It took enormous self-control not to whine, “Mommy, they’re picking on me.” Being back under the same roof with my siblings tended to make us regress a decade or more. But instead I responded, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But we are worried about it. I got to meet the delicious piece of SEAL meat last night, and he’s hot.” Ivy took the bagels out of the toaster, set them on a plate, and took them back to the table, where she pulled up a chair next to Leo.

  “That’s gross,” I chided Ivy.

  She shrugged.

  “I take it last night didn’t have a happy ending,” Leo said, then he and Ivy burst out laughing again.

  “I don’t see why this is funny to you.” I shot daggers at them. Unfortunately, it didn’t faze them.

  “What’s so funny?” Lucinda looked up from the eggs and stared at the twins.

  “Dynassy has a crush on this dude and he won’t sleep with her,” Leo answered.

  “That’s not exactly true,” I stammered.

  “Which part’s not true?” Ivy asked, and I wanted to slap her.

  “Honey, who is this boy?”

  “Boy? Mom, I don’t date boys anymore. I’m almost a quarter of a century old. There are no boys in my life.”

  “Except him.” Ivy pointed a thumb at her twin, who elbowed her in the ribs.

  “Ouch!” Ivy screeched, and I smiled. She deserved it.

  “Okay, whatever this ‘dude’ is, what’s going on? You like him?”

  I made a face at the cameras to indicate that I didn’t want to talk about this onscreen, but Lucinda ignored me.

  My mother loved living her life in front of the cameras so much that I don’t think she could even understand what it would be like to live off camera. We’d tried to make her see that some things were private, that there were some things kids went through as they grew older that they didn’t want to share with the rest of the world.

  She didn’t get it.

  Occasionally one of us would boycott the whole thing and refuse to be on “The Barnes Bunch,” but for the most part we gave in and had to accept that this was our life.

  “I do. He’s the former SEAL that I met at the event for wounded vets.” I’d be lying if I wasn’t aware as I said this that anything positive I could say on camera regarding vets would help my reputation with our fans. Manipulative? Yes. But what can I say? I learned from the master.

  Lucinda’s attention perked up. “Oh, that fellow! Ivy’s right. He is hot. I’ve seen the footage.”

  I nodded in agreement. “He is, but he’s not a piece of meat. He’s a great guy. We went shooting yesterday.”

  “Shooting?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes, guns. It was all very safe and harmless. Fun actually. But no, he didn’t stay the night.”

  “Oh, well that’s refreshing. Perhaps he’s a religious man. You know, we could really use some more religion in this family.”

  Ivy and Leo groaned. Our mother had gone on a few kicks in the past where she had us performing rituals from various religions, and none of us were looking forward to another one.

  “Mom, you should just go to church more,” Leo said as he slathered cream cheese on his bagel.

  “I don’t think that’s it,” I said to Lucinda.

  “Maybe he’s a virgin,” Ivy offered.

  We all ignored this unlikely possibility.

  “I told her he’s just not that into her,” Leo said.

  Lucinda shook her head. “That’s not nice, Leo. Why would you say that to your sister?”

  “Uh, ’cause it’s the truth. What red-blooded American man doesn’t want to bang Dynassy—besides me and Nick of course? No one. Hell, maybe he’s gay.”

  “Shut up. If he was gay, why would he ask me out?”

  “I dunno. The
dude’s weird. I’m out.” Leo swallowed his last bite, downed a glass of orange juice then waved goodbye. “I’ll be in my room.”

  The three of us girls looked at each other and shook our heads.

  “Don’t mind him.” Ivy tried to smooth things over for her twin, as usual.

  “I think he sounds like a nice guy who is behaving like a gentleman. That’s very refreshing in this day of hook-ups. I don’t know how you kids live like that. Back in my day—”

  “No, Mom.” Ivy cut her off. “Just spare us the history lesson.”

  Lucinda frowned, then slid the eggs onto a plate and handed them to me. They were brown on the outside, semi-burnt, but I thanked her. Lucinda wasn’t the greatest cook, but I thought it was sweet that she tried. One of the acts in her repertoire that involved nurturing.

  “You know, he is a gentleman. He has great manners, and he’s always opening doors for me. He’s very protective, too. Maybe he just has traditional values.”

  Lucinda sat down next to me and we started to eat. “I’m sure that’s what it is, honey. You’re gorgeous. He probably wants to let your relationship progress more before you take that step.” She patted my hand, and it did make me feel better.

  I took a deep breath and vowed to stop worrying about having sex with Bridger.

  I needed to enjoy his company and just let it happen.

  Now if only I could do that…

  9

  Bridger

  * * *

  Dating Dynassy Barnes when you had a dick that didn’t work properly was a bitch. Yes, I’d gotten some feeling down there, I could even get hard sometimes, but it wasn’t like I flipped a switch and now everything functioned perfectly. Not by a long shot. Now my penis was inconsistent at best, and unpredictable at worst.

  The other day I’d woken up with morning wood the likes of which I hadn’t seen since before the accident. A great indicator that I was back to normal and a terrific start to my day, or so I thought. But that night, when things were heating up with Dynassy in my car after our date, the little pecker took a vacation on me.