Mac and Travis went way back, and recently the rancher had been helping Mac fix up his ranch house. Hell, the last thing his friend needed was to have his life turned upside down by Bridget’s interference. It was bad enough that Travis lost his wife a few years back.
“You’re messing with people’s lives, Bridget.” Mac stood firm, speaking adamantly. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t!” He turned his back on her and threw his arms up in disgust. “Of all the rotten luck. I can’t believe I fell in love with a rich bitch, willing to destroy so many lives.” Then he turned to her, hot anger reaching the boiling point. “You’re not the woman I found up on Deerlick Canyon. Not if you do this. That woman isn’t vindictive. She’s not so cynical that she feels justified in damaging lives. Let it be, Bridget.”
“I can’t, Mac,” she said, facing him squarely. “Don’t you understand? The book is nearly finished. Finding Aunt Fin’s child will be the final chapter.”
Mac stared into those vivid, gleaming blue eyes. He realized he’d finally opened his heart to allow love inside, to have it all shatter around him in one quick instant. Bridget Elliott—bitter, cynical and so damn beautiful that she took his breath away—wasn’t the woman for him. She’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and could be doing something positive with her life; instead she chose to cause misery and heartache to those around her.
Mac wouldn’t allow her to cause that misery here, not now, not in his town and not in his house. He wouldn’t do that to Travis or to himself. There was only one solution. “When your cousin returns, I think you should leave.”
“Mac,” she said in a quiet voice, tearing his heart out with her plea.
He held firm, but he had to force the next words. “If you intend to go ahead with your plans, you have no place here.”
Slowly she nodded, and Mac cringed inwardly. She wouldn’t give up. “I have to finish what I started.”
“Then we’ll have to say goodbye. Go back to New York, Bridget. It’s where you belong.”
Lizzie burst through the door, her face awash with joy. “Lyle asked me out on a date! And he offered to help when I move into my apartment. Jane, we have to shop. I need your help in finding the perfect outfit.”
Mac took a last look at Jane, or the woman he wished was Jane, then directed his gaze to his sister. “She’s not Jane. Her name is Bridget Elliott and she’ll be on the next flight to New York.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Bridget. I couldn’t have put together these outfits without your help. But with all that’s on your mind, I can’t believe you still wanted to help me shop,” Lizzie said, plopping her shopping bags on Bridget’s bed.
Bridget sat down on the bed and soon Lizzie joined her. “I made you a promise, Lizzie. Besides, you’ve done so much for me and I wanted to return the favor. It was fun. Took my mind off…things.”
“Like the fact that your plane leaves in three hours? I can’t help it. I wish you weren’t leaving,” Lizzie said with great sadness. “My brother needs you.”
Bridget leaned back to rest her head against the pillow. She closed her eyes, and visions of Mac rushed forward. His rare smile, the way he would hold her, the tender way he made love to her. “Mac doesn’t understand what I’m trying to do.”
“No, and he probably won’t change his mind, either. He’s always been so sure of what’s right.”
Bridget snapped her eyes open. “So you don’t think I’m doing the right thing, either?”
Lizzie took hold of her hand. “It’s none of my business, really. It’s between you and my brother.” She squeezed her hand firmly. “I know Mac’s hurting, too. He didn’t say much, but it’s all on his face, the pain of losing you. You have to promise me one thing, Bridget.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t return a thing he’s given you, not the clothes, not the jewelry. And for heaven’s sake, don’t you dare try to pay him back. I know my brother. That’ll just about kill him.”
Bridget nodded. “I’m glad you told me. But I want to do something to return your kindness.”
“Just be my friend, Bridget. That’s all I need. Maybe give me some fashion advice once in a while?”
Bridget chuckled. “Sure.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
Tears stung Bridget’s eyes. She’d come to love both brother and sister in this household. And she knew that her life would never be the same since knowing them. She wrapped her arms around Lizzie and they hugged tightly.
“Me, too. But do yourself a favor, Lizzie. Don’t back down with Mac. Don’t change your mind about moving out or your plans with Lyle.”
Lizzie sat thoughtfully for a moment. “But my brother—”
“Lizzie,” Bridget began firmly, “don’t you dare. You’ve devoted your life to Mac. You’ve been a good sister, and I think Mac really does want your happiness. I’m hoping I got through to him, at least about that.”
Lizzie smiled. “I hope so, too.”
Bridget rose and began filling the duffel bag Lizzie had given her. Within a minute, she was all packed and ready.
Mac popped his head in the doorway. “Your cousin’s here to pick you up.”
“Oh.” It all seemed to be happening so fast. Bridget turned to stare into Lizzie’s pretty brown eyes. “I have to go.”
Lizzie nodded and stood. “I know.”
“Bye, my friend.” Bridget held back the flood of tears surging forth. Crying wouldn’t help the situation. What was done was done, and Bridget knew her time in Winchester was over.
“Goodbye,” Lizzie whispered, giving her one last hug. “I’ll entertain Bryan while you two say goodbye.”
Lizzie left and Bridget stared into Mac’s dark eyes. She grabbed the straps of the duffel bag, which was filled with things that would be a constant reminder of Winchester County and Mac Riggs. Things that held special meaning…things she couldn’t part with. “I guess it’s goodbye, then.”
Strong and tall and always in control, Mac nodded, keeping silent. Bridget walked over to him. “I can’t leave without thanking you for everything, Mac,” she said softly, drinking in the sight of him. She hoped she’d never forget those intense dark eyes, the way the tic worked in his jaw when he thought about something too long, or the way his eyes softened on her when they made love. “You’re an excellent lawman and a wonderful man.”
With that, Bridget reached up to kiss his cheek, giving him a soft, subtle peck that belied her true feelings. But Mac didn’t want her to kiss him. He didn’t want her in his life or in his house. She’d been effectively tossed out. Not even his admission of love earlier helped this moment, since his next words, “rich bitch,” had cut deep into her heart. He didn’t want to love her. And that hurt the most, because Bridget loved him with everything she had inside. She loved him no matter what. But their differences had torn them apart.
“I’m going to miss Winchester,” she said honestly.
“And you most of all.”
She strode past him, hoping he’d call her back. Hoping he’d say something. Silence ensued. And his indifference said it all.
“You ready, cuz?” Bryan asked, grabbing her duffel bag and opening the front door.
She stopped and turned around, looking into Mac’s cool dark eyes one last time. “I’m ready. Let’s go home.”
Eleven
“You okay?” Bryan asked as he drove along the private road leading to The Tides, Patrick Elliott’s Hamptons estate. Bridget peered out the car window, noting the manicured gardens, the long circular driveway leading up to the estate and the house itself, understated yet so grand. Salty sea air from the Atlantic just below the bluff brought back memories of happier times, when she would run and play in the sand along the beach with her brothers and cousins.
Bridget remembered it all. The familiarity didn’t bring her comfort, though. Her mind and heart were still fixed on a cozy Colorado house and a small-town sherif
f who had embedded himself in her soul. “I will be, once I see Mom. You said she was okay, right? It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her.”
Bryan nodded. “She’s been worried about you, Bridget.”
“I’m so sorry about that.” Bridget hated to worry her mother, but she hadn’t planned on losing her memory. She hadn’t planned on falling in love, either. Even now, as she thought back on her time with Mac, she couldn’t honestly say that she’d change anything. Knowing him and loving him had brought a greater wealth to her life than anything her grandfather might fathom. But Mac couldn’t understand why Bridget had to change things in her family.
“Mom’s got enough to deal with right now.” Four months ago Karen Elliott had undergone a double mastectomy. Ever since then she’d spent a lot of time at her in-laws’ Hamptons estate.
“She’s a tough cookie. Never lets on when she’s down. But I know she’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Bryan stopped the car just outside the front doors. “I can’t come in. I’ve got pressing business. Give Aunt Karen my love, will you?”
“I sure will. And that ‘pressing business’ has to do with the restaurant, right, cuz?”
Bryan slanted her a look. “What else?”
“Right,” Bridget said, slanting him a look right back. She wondered if Mac’s instincts were right about Bryan. Could her cousin be more than he appeared?
Bridget exited the car, giving him a big hug when he came around to her side to hand her the duffel bag. “Thanks again for finding me. I don’t know when or how I might have gotten my memory back without you.”
Bryan kissed her cheek. “All in a day’s work,” he said. Right before hopping back into the driver’s seat, he added, “For a second or two back in Colorado, I wondered if you really wanted your memory back.”
“Another story for another day, Bryan.” She waved in farewell, watching him leave, before climbing the steps to her grandfather’s home. And when she opened the door, the scent of grandeur filled the air, from the lavish Italian marble beneath her feet to the rich antiques lining the wall of the regal foyer.
Always understated. Always elegant. Her grandmom Maeve had decorated the estate in the same manner that she’d carried herself.
Minutes later, Bridget found her mother sitting peacefully in the solarium, looking out at the ocean. The water took on a soft glow as the sunlight began to fade. Bridget watched her for a long moment before announcing herself, noting her pale complexion, a sign that the chemotherapy was sapping her strength. The colorful satin scarf around her head was just another reminder of what her mother had gone through recently.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her mother turned at the sound of her voice.
“Bridget, honey.” She stood and her smile lit her face with renewed energy. Bridget ran into her mother’s warm and loving arms. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Any complications from the fall or the amnesia?”
She shook her head, breathing in her mother’s familiar flowery scent. “No, nothing. I’m fine, but I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m recuperating. It’s a slow process, but I’m going to be okay.”
The embrace lasted a long time, Bridget finding it hard to let her mother go. When they finally broke apart to take their seats facing the incredible Atlantic waves, Bridget spilled her heart to her mother about her time in Winchester with Mac and her confusion about writing her book.
Karen Elliott gave her a good piece of advice. “There’s only one person who knows what’s right for you, honey.”
“I’ve set out to do something, Mom. I’ve never been a quitter.”
Her mother smiled warmly, her green eyes bright and honest. “Sometimes we get exactly what we want, only to find out it’s not what we wanted at all. Take some time, honey. Think what’s most important to you.”
“That’s all I have been thinking about since leaving Colorado.”
“Well, then, let me give you something else to think about. Your father and I are going to be grandparents. Gannon and Erika have just announced that they are expecting a baby.”
“Really? Oh, Mom, that’s great news.”
“Yes, and I plan on being healthy enough to babysit my new grandchild.”
“You will be, Mom.” Bridget sighed, thinking about her one time jet-setting brother. “Just think, my big brother is going to be a father.”
Karen chuckled. “Hard to believe, but yes. I think he finally met his match with Erika. They’re very happy.”
“Well, I’m happy for them.”
Her mother reached for her hands, taking them in hers and applying gentle pressure. “That’s all I want for my children, honey. Happiness. Sometimes it’s not that hard to find, if you look in the right place.”
Bridget’s loft in SoHo was spacious and stylish but certainly didn’t offer the same type of elegance her grandparents’ home in the Hamptons did. She smiled as she roamed around, surrounded by furnishings and artwork that depicted her personality. Casual, contemporary and all the things a young twenty-eight-year-old woman might enjoy. But as she’d driven home this morning down Broadway, after spending the night at The Tides, she realized she’d never considered how cluttered the avenues were, how busy, the streets lined with shops, restaurants and brick buildings that looked as though they’d been here from the beginning of time.
All familiar.
Yet nothing so far had seemed quite right.
She would simply have to readjust. After her ordeal in Colorado, she supposed it was natural to feel a little “off” and out of tune with her normal way of life.
Bridget clicked on the radio and turned the dial, finding the station she wanted, tapping her toes to the music, killing time until her visitor arrived. When the knock came Bridget sighed with relief and strode quickly to the door, unlocking and sliding the heavy panel open.
“I brought wedding pictures,” her new cousin Misty announced, lifting a white photo album in the air.
Bridget glanced at Misty’s five-months-pregnant belly. In two weeks it seemed as though she’d grown another dress size, but Bridget wouldn’t dare share those thoughts with her. Misty looked happy and pregnant pretty.
“Misty, I’m so glad you came to visit. Come in. Did you get your pictures back already?”
“Just the proofs. We’ll get to that later.” Misty gave her a good looking over, and once she seemed satisfied, she said, “You had us all worried sick. My maid of honor disappears right after our wedding reception and no one knows a thing! You didn’t tell a soul where you were going. It’s a good thing Bryan knew how to find you.”
“My mistake. I’ll never do anything like that again. Next time I’ll be sure to let someone know where I’m heading.”
Misty’s eyes grew wide and her expression left no room for doubt that she didn’t approve. “Next time?”
Bridget couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Sit down. Take a load off.”
“Hey, watch it. I’m older than you, but I still have some moves.”
Both sat down on Bridget’s cream leather sofa in an area of the loft known as the great room. Three rooms collided into each other and this one was where she relaxed, read, watched television or simply stared out of the giant floor-to-ceiling windows to the street below.
“I thought you used up all your moves on Cullen.”
Her belly rolled when she chuckled. “Bridget, thank God you’re home.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, biting her lip. “I’m home.”
“Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s wrong?”
Bridget lifted her shoulders, shrugging casually, but inside she felt weighted down by heartache and indecision. “Nothing much, really. Except that I fell in love with the man who probably saved my life. He took me in when I had nowhere to go. Sheriff Mac Riggs. He thinks I’m a spoiled rich socialite with nothing better to do than to cause trouble. He doesn’t approve of what I’m trying to do.”
“Oh, I see.” Misty’s green eyes posit
ively gleamed.
“Mmm, a sheriff, you say? Tall, handsome? I bet he looks real good in his uniform.”
The recollection of Mac in his uniform and out of his uniform was never far from her mind. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Then let me ask you this—if he’s so awful, why bother?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Why bother? He is awful. Awfully stubborn. Awfully demanding.” And then she softened her voice to a mere whisper. “Awfully kind. Awfully generous. Awfully sexy. So awfully good-looking that my heart stopped every time he walked into the room.”
“Wow,” Misty said, with a shake of her head. “So what are you waiting for? You’re obviously crazy about him. Go back to Colorado and change his mind about you.”
Bridget stood up and walked over to the window, glancing down at the street below. Traffic had come to a halt where two drivers had collided in a fender bender. They faced each other on the street, eyes bulging, mouths flapping and fingers pointing. She could only guess at the kind of language they used. She turned back to Misty. “I don’t think I can change his mind.”
“For a time Cullen didn’t think he could change my mind, either, but he did. I wasn’t making it easy on him. Thank goodness I put aside my misgivings. We’re very happy,” she said, patting her growing belly, “with a little one on the way. Bridget, if it’s even remotely possible for you to have that kind of happiness, then do whatever it takes to make it happen.”
Bridget took a deep, steadying breath, absorbing Misty’s advice. But she still had doubts. She’d made herself a promise to write the book that would expose Patrick Elliott. And what of her aunt Fin? Didn’t she deserve some happiness, too? “I’m still not sure, Misty. But I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long, my friend. Sounds like this guy has hunk-eligibility status.” She fell silent for a moment as the radio blasted out Gretchen Wilson singing about rednecked women. “Heck, this guy’s got you listening to country music. That has to mean something, honey. Now, I didn’t just come over here to check on you. You’re the photo editor in the family. How about taking a look at my proofs? I need help picking out a hundred or so for our wedding album.”
Heiress Beware Page 13