Chapter Seven
I spin on my heel and head toward my burnt-to-a-crisp house. I sigh out loud at the reminder why I can’t get involved with Aaron. Leroy would kill him just to get to me. I once didn’t think Leroy capable of such violence but after the way he looked into my eyes last night, his hand on my arm, topped off with his note in my car this morning, I wouldn’t put anything past the man. Ugh, this sucks. Aaron seems like a pretty interesting person, and it’s going to be soooo hard to ignore his amazing body, lips, and the way he looks at me. STOP IT, BRIDGET! I shake my head at my inner slut. She needs to calm the fuck down. It would be anything but a casual fuck with this man. He’s the kind of guy that your heart will demand more than the physical needs your body is demanding. Then he will leave. Your heart will shatter. Then everyone tells you I told you so, and rubs it in your face that you failed when you knew not to even go there in the first place. No fucking thank you!
“Where are you going?” the fuck me voice says.
I look up and realize I’m just randomly walking. Shit, get your shit together Bridget! No man has ever affected you like this; don’t let the one who looks like they should be a magazine cover model, do it now!
“Just getting away from you and your bitable lips,” I mutter under my breath while storming past him.
“My lips are bitable?” he asks with a cocky smile. I really hate how he heard that. I also hate how my fucking mouth just speaks in front of him. I’ve never been so verbal with anyone. I’ve always thought them in my head, but never said things out loud.
“Shut up,” I say with a roll of my eyes. He laughs at me as he walks around my burnt house.
“I’d say it would take two weeks to clean up this mess and get the lot leveled. Then, after the two weeks, I’d say it’ll be about another week for the foundation. You’re wanting a basement right?”
“Yep, with a bathroom,” I say, thankful he’s actually being professional right now. That’s what I need to keep my mind focused.
“Alright, I’d say about another week for that, have to run plumbing and all of that. Then, start with the structure and finishing and interior designs -- I’d say you are looking at about 9 weeks. For the size and style of the house,” he says while walking back to me. “Now keep in mind too, Bridget, that is just an estimated time. It could be less; it could be more.”
“Okay, when can you start on it?”
“I’d say that the boys could be here on Monday, but there is also one other thing,” he says while walking to me.
I drink him in as he makes his way across the rubble to me. He’s wearing jeans that are faded, the kind that are worn so often that the jeans actually fade, not the store-bought ones. The shirt that’s most likely painted onto his body is black. I’ve never wanted to be a shirt before now. His muscles flex with every powerful step he makes to me, and my traitorous body is tempted to take the steps to him, to shorten the wait to have him near. It makes no sense that I feel this way towards someone I just met. I’m officially crazy!
“What other thing?” I asked with a slight shiver to my voice.
“Hudson’s offers our clients a cabin to stay in while the construction is being done. It’s at no cost because we only offer it to those who are in your situation.”
I wish I could tell him how much this means to me. How the offer came at the most perfect time. If Leroy put that note in my car this morning than he knows where I’m staying and I can’t have that. I have no idea what I’ll do when my house is finished and I have to come back here alone. Maybe I’ll get a big dog. I doubt that will scare him off. Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do? I have approximately 10 weeks to figure it out. It’ll be okay. I have to figure something out by then.
I felt a finger on my chin raising it up to peer into the most beautiful golden-brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
“You okay? You looked pretty deep in thought.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking about how I’m paid through the weekend at the hotel. So, could I take you up on the offer on Monday?”
“Sure thing, baby girl,” he replied while placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me back to the truck.
*********************
I just swiped my name badge in the time clock when Stacy, the nurse who I was taking over for, walked up to me. I already know what she wanted before she even said a word. Her little boy has been sick, so the last few days she’s been flying out of here just as I walked in.
“Hi Bridget, Audrey said she would fill you in on the remaining patients. But I think one just walked in the door, so you might have to take that one because she’s in a room now. Is that okay? I hate to bail on you guys like I have been.”
“It’s okay, Stace. I would be the same way if I was a momma. Give that little cub a kiss to get better for me?”
“You are amazing, and I owe you one as soon as he gets better. Andy can’t handle sick kids sadly. And you already know I’ll give him kisses for you. He could have the Black Plague and I’d still kiss him all day long,” she laughs.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. See you tomorrow!” I wave as she walked out of the doors.
I round the corner and Audrey is walking in the supply closet.
“Got to get a warm blanket for room four, but someone else just came in. They put him in room eighteen, could you pop in and get his vitals so we can start the chart? Then I’ll catch you up?”
“Sure thing, babe. If you need anything else, you’ll know where I am,” I reply while walking to room eighteen.
Nothing like hitting the floor running as soon as I walk in. Got to love Saturdays. People have all this time on weekends to go and get themselves hurt. I giggled to myself about that as I walked in the door. The giggles died at the sight of who was sitting on the bed.
“Well, my day just got a bit better seeing the face of an angel,” he says with the most beautiful smile I’ve seen all day. I’m pretty sure my ovaries just sighed.
He’s lying on the bed, with one leg hanging off. His right hand is holding his left ribcage, and his left hand is raised and bent at the elbow above his head. He’s wearing a black shirt again and those snug jeans that I know show off his perfect ass. Yep, I know that my ovaries did sigh that time.
“Hey Aaron, what brings you into the ER today?” I silently dance for joy inside because my voice held steady and didn’t come out all husky.
“I think I may need stitches. Got caught with something at the job site today.” His eyes darken when he tells me this. For some reason, I don’t exactly believe him that’s what happened. But he told me that’s what happened, so that’s what I’ll chart.
“Okay let’s get some vitals first, and then we will take a look and see what you need.”
I grab the blood pressure cuff and then look at his arms. I look back at the cuff then back at his arms. Well, I think I need to grab a bigger one. I’m pretty sure his logs for arms wouldn’t fit this one. So, I walk over to the cabinets in the room and while I’m looking for ones I hear a groan. So, I turn my head around and catch him staring at my butt.
“Are you looking at my butt right now?” I ask with a little shock. I’m not used to people looking at me the way he does. With want.
“Would you be mad if I said yes?” he asks while smirking.
“Well, I . . . I guess not,” I answer while grabbing the cuff I need.
I walk back to his bedside and pick up the thermometer.
“Open up. Under your tongue. No talking,” I tell him.
I put the cuff on and take the thermometer out of his mouth.
“Am I hot?” he teases with that stupid smirk I enjoy too much.
“Not at all,” I reply sarcastically with my own smirk.
He puts his other hand over his heart and pretends to be hurt, and he gets a giggle out of me. I really like this playful side of him.
“Blood pressure is a little high, but if you’re in a bit of pain, that’s normal. Let’s take your shirt off so we can see the d
amage,” I tell him while swallowing down the slight shake of my voice.
He stands up and lifts his shirt over his head. And good Lord, I’m pretty sure I squeaked. My hands itched to roam all over that. The words washboard abs aren’t even in the same realm as this. Like I’m pretty sure there are tiny little fairies dancing around somewhere chanting to these abs. And that’s not all there is. His whole left arm is covered in tattoos. And it comes up to his left pec on his chest. There are music symbols and there are roses, and it looks like there is part of a castle. Oh, Mylanta. Is it hot in here? I am pretty sure my jaw is never going to close again. When my roaming eyes make it back to his face he is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk planted on his face. I’m pretty sure he was born with that sexy smirk.
“Are you checking me out right now?” He throws my question back at me.
“Would you be mad if I said yes?” I squeaked out.
“Not at all, baby girl. In fact, I think I quite like it.” He lies back down on the bed and begins to remove the bandage he has on the wound, and it reminds me that he’s here for an actual reason, not for me to stare at him like a tiger that hasn’t eaten in a month. Even if it’s what I feel like.
“Oh my goodness, Aaron! This looks awful. What did you cut it on? It looks like something serrated, and it’s pretty deep,” I said skimming my fingers around the wound. I look up and he has his eyes screwed shut. “Oh! Am I hurting you!? I’m so sorry, I forgot my professionalism with you,” I end on a whisper.
I feel a tug on my hand and I look up to see Aaron looking so serious.
“No Bridget, you didn’t hurt me. That didn’t hurt. I just, your touch makes me feel. . . something,” he replied uncertainly while shrugging. His eyebrows were pinched together, and he looked lost in thought. I cleared my throat and put on my gloves.
“Well, let’s get started. I’m going to wash this up, and then I’m going to go get the stuff needed to make the stitches. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
So, I got to work. I cleaned the wound up, reapplied some dressing so it wouldn’t get dirt in it again while I was gone, and told him I’d be back in a few minutes.
Chapter Eight
When she practically ran out of the room, I swore to myself. I have no idea how much more I can handle her soft little hands on my body. A task such as getting stitches should not turn me on, but here I am, getting a hard-on for this sweet little nurse. At this point in my life, I didn’t want a woman. I can’t risk her getting caught up in my life, and getting used against me if they could get to her. If I was selfless I’d let her go right now. But apparently, I’m a selfish asshole because here I am. I could have gone to the ER in the town that I was in, but like the crazy person I am, I threw some gauze on it and drove over here just, so I could see the face of an angel.
“Alright, you ready?” she asks. Am I ready to have those hands on my body again? I wish it was under different circumstances, but I guess this will do for now.
“Sure thing, baby girl,” I tell her. “So, do you need help moving your things on Monday?”
“Actually, I could use your truck. I was able to save some stuff, and it’s sitting in boxes in storage. If the cabin has the space for it anyway.”
“Yeah, I can help with that. Do you work Monday?”
“Nope, I’m off tomorrow and Monday,” she replied with a fist bump into the air, looking cute as shit doing it.
“Well good, I’ll look forward to your call on Monday then,” I told her as she finished up with the stitches, not sure what else to say exactly.
She looks so focused right now -- in her element, doing her best. She has her lip between her perfect teeth while she concentrates on my rib cage.
“Will you ever tell me what really happened here?” she asks referring to my ribs.
“Ehh. Probably not,” I chuckle. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t want your soul tainted with the bullshit. You know.”
“I’m not as perfect as you think I am in your vision, you know,” she says as she cuts the string off of the last stitch she made.
“Maybe not, but why worry about something that’s no good anyway?”
She looks up at me with those big blue eyes, searching for something in mine.
“You know, in all my twenty-seven years of life, I’ve never felt as. . . I don’t know, comfortable, as I do with you. Safe. Open. It’s weird, isn’t it? We are strangers and it’s like my soul knows yours is good.” She shakes her head as if I wouldn’t understand what she’s saying. Of fucking course, I get it. It’s why I drove to a different town to get fucking stitches. There’s something about her. When I see her, I just feel lighter. I feel calm. And after the afternoon I’ve had, that’s a welcome feeling.
************************
Lying in bed thinking of the redhead isn’t good for my health. Just imagining her hands on my stomach yesterday and her lips on mine the other day is making my jeans bulge. Her hair when it flows down her back. I can imagine what she looks like as she rides me. Head thrown back, thrusting herself on me. Before I know what it is that I’m doing, I have my cock in hand, thinking of her on top of me. As I stroke myself I think of what her moans sound like. That has my balls going tight, and I jerk harder. That feisty mouth on mine and her nails on my skin. I let go with a hard grunt and I throw my head back on my pillow. Holy shit, I haven’t jerked off since I was a fucking kid. I’m not a man-whore by any means, but I’ve never had any problems getting someone to warm my bed.
My phone rings, and I groan while getting up to grab a towel to clean myself off. It’s a number I don’t recognize and I think about letting it go to voice mail, but decide I better not.
“This is Aaron,” I answer.
“Uhh. Hi Aaron. It’s Bridget. I hope I’m not bothering you, but the hotel said they would refund my money for another night. So, I was wondering if you were free to help me move today? I’ll understand if you’re busy though. It is short notice,” she rambles. She sounds uncertain and a little startled.
“No, I can help today, I actually just got up. Let me grab a shower and I’ll meet you at the hotel. Yeah?”
“That would be awesome. Thank you so much.” So, I wasn’t imagining it. That was relief in her voice.
“Not a problem at all, baby girl. Text me your room number and I’ll come up and get you.”
“Okay. Thanks again, Aaron. See you soon.”
I hear the click telling me she ended the call. I decide to forgo the shower, and I leave in a rush because my gut for some reason is telling me to.
I jump in my truck and speed all the way to her hotel. I pull up and toss my keys to the valet, and jog inside. I don’t stop to talk to the desk clerk even as she tries to talk to me. I have the room number. I hit the button for the fourth floor and thankfully the elevator whisks me on up. I step off the elevator and turn left. Her room is on the left about fifteen feet down from the elevator. I knock on her door, waiting.
“Who is it?” she yells from somewhere in the room.
“It’s me, baby girl, open up,” I tell her.
The door flies open and the look of relief on her face tells me my gut was right. Something is wrong, and she’s not leaving this room until she tells me what it is.
“Hello there, darlin’,” I say to lighten her mood some as I step in.
“Hi, thanks for coming,” She replies while shutting the door.
“Of course, not a big deal. What’s going on? You look worn out,” I asked her.
She huffs out a laugh, and runs a hand through that mane of hair of hers. She drops her head back and lets out a groan that makes me want to comfort her. These are new instincts to me. So, I’m just going to roll with it. Right?
Fuck it.
I walk over to her and tug her hand and lead her to the chair in the room. I sit down and pull her by the hips and have her sit on me, straddling me.
“Come on baby girl, what’s going on in
the gorgeous head of yours?” I tell her while rubbing small circles on her lower back with my thumbs.
“I don’t know why I’m even going to tell you this. Probably because you were there at the Four J’s the other night, and because some part of me knows I can trust you, and I’ve never had that feeling before. So I trust that instinct. But that guy from the bar that one night? He’s my ex-husband. He was always verbally abusive and mean, but never physical. I divorced him and moved away to a tiny town, because I didn’t think he could find me. I can almost bet my life on the fact he burnt my house down. And now, for some reason, he’s stalking me and leaving me little notes. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I found one here today, in my room, on the bed. So, I want out of here. Now.”
I really did not expect that. Her head is bent down in shame, and that pisses me off more. She has nothing to be ashamed about. I need to pull in my anger, so I don’t scare her myself. If I knew this the other night, I would have beaten him near death myself.
“Look at me,” I tell her, and she raises her face to meet my eyes. “You never have to lower your head in shame at me, or anyone else for that matter. You’re one strong ass woman for dealing with it this far by yourself. But one thing is for sure, and I don’t want you to fight me on it, but I know you will. I don’t want you to move into the cabin by yourself anymore. Especially now that I know this. I don’t put up with assholes thinking they can do whatever they fucking want to a woman. You can come to my house and stay there. And before you fight me, just know that it has a spare bedroom, and top of the line security system. So when I’m not there you’re protected.” Her eyes were starting to tear up and I didn’t know what I said to make her cry.
Worth The Fight (Worth It Series Book 1) Page 4