Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

His smirk makes me glance away from him, a protective reflex from his lascivious lips and dangerous eyes. At least they used to be. Then I think better of my avoidance and stand tall, turning my face to him. When our gazes lock, he questions me with a perked eyebrow.

  “What?” I say, trying to hold his stare. But his power in this hospital gives him the upper hand so I turn to the keyboard and tap into a file. Make up your mind, girl.

  I can see from the corner of my eye his arms fold across his chest. My temperature flares up because I know exactly what he’s thinking and he’s way off base. He might leave a flat line of broken hearts in his wake, but I’m the blip on his screen. That ship sank before it left the dock. My indifference is the only way to send that message so I don’t look at him with my next words.

  “Just finishing up one more thing, and then I'm heading to lunch, actually.”

  “I am too. Want some company?”

  I smile and close out my file like I’d just finished the formula for a life-saving antidote. “Thanks, but I have to take care of something while I eat.” I reach under the counter for my bag and the sweater I can’t be without in the freezer that is our cafeteria.

  What I see when I pop my head up flushes my face with warmth. My cheeks pinch and then peak, fueled by giddy surprise when I spot Logan coming right toward me. I skitter to the other side of the counter, hoping to leave Robert in my wake, but the tapping of his shoes tells me he won’t make this easy.

  “Something or someone?” I hear Robert say under his breath.

  Of course, I won’t correct him. “You’re here!” I decide to play into Robert’s suspicions.

  “Right on time too.”

  Logan's eyes widen so quickly I almost miss it. “You know me, hate to be late.”

  Somehow Robert arrives at my side, and Logan reaches out his hand to him. “I'm Logan.” His tight blue T-shirt could have been an accordion before he put it on, and no one would know it. He has the kind of broad, smooth chest that any woman would trade her best pillow for.

  Robert accepts the handshake but eyes me as he says, “Dr. Hall,” in that deep, authoritative voice he uses when he explains things to patients and their loved ones. Then he puts his hands on his hips and gives Logan a once over. It should piss me off but when I see Logan’s lips curve up, I can’t help but do the same. It appears we both agree it’s a jackass move.

  As the three of us decide who will speak next, I see Aubrey sashay past us. I let out a breath. I’m hoping she will be the distraction I need. Just a whiff of her “come hither” body spray, and Robert’s usually sniffing right after her. But when his eyes stay glued to Logan, I step into my new best bud and take his arm. “We’d better get going. I don’t have much time today.”

  “Later,” Logan says with a short, mock solute.

  “Yeah,” Robert says half-heartedly.

  A quick glance over my shoulder shows Robert, without the slightest of pauses, turns to run after Aubrey.

  “Who was that tool?” Logan says a second later, obviously unconcerned Robert might hear.

  “Dr. Hall.”

  “Yeah, I got that part. He’s obviously got a rap sheet where you’re concerned.” He cocks his head and a beat later says, “Or did I forget I asked you to lunch?”

  “No, but you truly saved me showing up here.”

  In a matter of minutes, we’ve gone from awkward acquaintances to fast friends, and I’m not even sure how it happened. I just know it feels good, right, so why are red flags waving at me behind my eyes?

  When we arrive at the cafeteria, Logan tells me to have a seat. “I want to try something,” he says without sitting himself. I watch as he heads to the counter, throwing a couple of smiles at me as he does.

  I don’t know what he’s up to, but my stomach ignites like he’s going to return with a winning lottery ticket instead of mediocre cafeteria food. Two nurses I know from another floor walk past him, staring at his ass like it’s the dessert tray at a restaurant. Somehow, my gaze stays locked in when theirs leave. It is a damn sight to see in a pair of jeans that ride low, are not too tight but clearly reveal some solid thighs.

  A few moments pass, and I see him reach for his wallet. And finally, the question hits me. What’s he doing here, anyway? I’m guessing it has to do with Belle, but he wouldn’t be so…relaxed if something was wrong. Whatever it is, I remind myself how this whole thing started and almost feel guilty for getting caught up in the moment. Eye candy is one thing, but getting involved when I clearly have a responsibility to remain objective is another. My excitement and smile fade just as he approaches the table.

  “How long was I gone?” he says as he sits. “You look worse than when we were back with Dr. McCheesy.”

  I barely register the comment when I look down at what he brought me. “I’m fine,” I say, confusion coming over me as I scan the tray full of food. “Oh, my God. Stalker.”

  “Pretty good, huh?”

  A bowl of white rice, a plate with a small piece of salmon and some veggies, a cup of what looks like iced tea, and a napkin with a small sugar cookie all sit on the tray.

  My mouth hangs open. “How…” I look at him, and he’s just smiling with the most beautiful milk commercial, straight, white teeth.

  “I’ve been thinking about you lately, Mollie.”

  “I knew it. Stalker.”

  He shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle. “No, seriously. I thought I didn’t remember much about you at first, but some things have come back to me.”

  My stomach drops as I hang on his every word. I kept telling myself it was better for him to bring it up in case he really didn’t remember.

  “Like I distinctly remember you were the only girl at lunch time who didn’t have a giant diet coke and burger with fries in front of her.” He tilts his head as if the memory is coming at that moment. “And you were a bit of a loner.”

  I did eat alone quite a bit so it was hard to miss me. It wasn’t what I was hoping for from him, but it’s still sweet. “I can’t believe you remember that.” Maybe, in time, he’ll remember the rest. And if he already has, there must be a reason he hasn’t brought it up so I certainly won’t.

  I glance back to the tray, my appetite springing to life. “Hey, where’s yours?”

  “I’m not hungry. Besides, who do you think that cookie is for?”

  “Um, me?”

  He palms the back of his neck, grazing through some dark curls at his collar. “How about be split it?”

  “I guess.” I slump my shoulders for dramatic affect. Then I pick up the fork and bowl and pile some rice over the fish. “I usually don’t like an audience when I eat so…” I raise my brows and gesture to the cookie.

  He grins and reaches for it. “Okay, but I’m still going to watch you.” He breaks the cookie in half and places one piece back on the napkin. “I get the big half…since I’m bigger.”

  For some reason, the silly comment makes me grin. I take a small bite of fish and rice and try to act casual as I chew.

  “You know, you have gorgeous eyes…especially when you smile.”

  I’m sure my cheeks pinken, but when he shoves the entire half cookie in his mouth, I almost spit out my food along with my laughter. So much for eating together.

  When the moment passes, I remind myself I still don’t know why he’s here. “How’s Belle?”

  “She’s good.” He nods and then wipes a few crumbs from his lips, drawing my eyes to his mouth. “In fact…” Suddenly, he pops forward and I blink away and back to his eyes. “We’re all good,” he continues and his face lights up. “We had a family meeting, the night I saw you at Pepitos…”

  I nod my understanding and take another bite of my lunch.

  “Yeah, whole family got together and talked—well, I’m using that term loosely. But the point is, we are going to get through this, and we’re all pitching in to make a home, a good home for the kids.”

  “Good. I mean, that’s…good.” I immediately
regret my lackluster response.

  He narrows his eyes at me and opens his mouth, but his words are delayed. I’m sure my reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He puts his hands on the sides of his chair and pushes it back. “Well, I’ll let you finish your lunch. Just thought I’d let you know.”

  “Logan, wait.”

  He stands and steps close to my chair. “Hey, it’s cool. I just thought you’d care to—”

  “I do care.” I take hold of his wrist and stand as well, bringing us inches apart. He’s probably an inch or so under six feet, a few inches taller than me at five seven, which leaves my face right at his neck. A woodsy scent wafts from him to right under my nose. For a moment, I almost lose my train of thought as I breathe him in, lower my lids, and watch his chest move.

  He removes my hand on his wrist, startling me. “You know, none of this is easy for me. Since the day you said those words to me in this very hospital, my heart’s been on the edge of tachycardia.”

  I widen my eyes but he continues before I can speak. “Yeah I’m not as dumb as I look.”

  I giggle and quickly move to cover my mouth. “Really? That was your follow up to tachycardia?”

  “Shit,” he says and turns to leave.

  I grab his wrist again, this time pulling him so our gazes meet. “Sit.”

  He glances to the exit as if he’s considering it. “This isn’t your problem.”

  “It became my problem, the moment you came into my hospital”—I note my tone rising and force myself to keep it in check—“and I decided to talk to you instead of making that call.”

  He stares into my eyes with a challenge and something inside me softens.

  “Please. I’d like the chance to…explain my reaction, my feelings.”

  He turns away and takes his seat again, lips a thin seam, arms folded.

  I sit as well. Ignoring the food, I clasp my hands and rest them in front of me. “This whole…thing has really messed with my head. I need to make sure I remain objective, and I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to.”

  His brows furrow. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be objective?” He pauses, searching my eyes for an answer. “Because we went to high school together? We barely knew each—”

  “No.” I shake my head, my pulse pumping faster with my growing frustration. I draw in a deep breath and sigh it out. “It’s just that I, well, you and I— What?” I say when I see one side of his mouth curve up.

  “I get it now.” He’s nodding with that whole smile now. “You like me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Clearly.” He cocks his head.

  “Listen. I like all of you.”

  “Right. Which means to like me, too.”

  “No. I mean yes. I like you and I like your whole family, and I love Belle. But I could get in a lot of trouble if they find out that I had suspicions and didn’t report them. I don’t want anything to cloud my judgment.”

  “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me…and resist me.”

  “Stop. This isn’t funny.”

  He leans forward and mirrors my position with his hands in front of him. “I know that. Why do you think I’m working my ass off over here? I mean it’s not my fault I’m irresistible. Belle shouldn’t suffer because I’m so damn handsome and charming.”

  “You’re an ass.” I lean back into my chair to gain some space and avert my eyes toward the door. “On second thought, your charm is fading fast.” A moment later, I slowly turn my gaze on him. “Besides, what about you?”

  “What about me?” he says with a casual shrug.

  “You like me.”

  “What makes you so sure? I mean how can you tell when you’re looking at me through heart-shaped pupils?”

  I huff and ignore the accusation. “Oh, so the other night at Pepitos…that was just your ‘I’m sitting here waiting for pizza’ look you were shooting at me?”

  His jaw clenches and his lips purse as if he’s fighting the grin. “Fine. I like you and you like me and we both love Belle and everything’s great. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is we can’t be anything more than friends if we’re going to do this right.”

  His lips move back into place, and he gives me a long, hard stare. I know the wheels are turning but have no idea what will come out when they stop. Finally, he says, “You’re right.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps the screen a few times. “So, what days are good for you,” he says, eyes averted.

  I scrunch up my face, trying to figure out what his game is. “Good for what?”

  He looks up and cocks his head to the side. “You just said it.”

  “What? What did I say?”

  “You said ‘we,’ that we couldn’t be more than friends if ‘we’re’ going to do this right.”

  My mouth falls open, and my breath snags in my throat. “Yeah, but—”

  His challenging brow raise halts my words, and we’re at a stare down for a few seconds before I try again. “Logan…I—”

  “Let’s just make this simple. Either everything you said was BS or it was sincere. One word. Are you in or out?”

  I don’t even pause because when given only two choices—the answer is obvious. “In.”

  Chapter 7

  Mollie

  I feel like I’m walking up to a job interview as I approach Logan’s house. Why the hell should I be nervous? He’s the one who has something to prove. I stop and shake my head. With that attitude I’ll be looking for things wrong. That’s not why I’m here.

  When I’d agreed to be “in” this thing with them, I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to and had a feeling Logan wasn’t either. But then, he threw out this plan. I tried not to flinch when he suggested I come to the house two afternoons a week to hang with Belle—the only one not in school yet—and keep them on their toes.

  Last night in bed, I thought a lot about Logan. On the surface, he’s making a huge sacrifice. He’s pushed his whole life aside to focus on helping his family. My heart aches for him, and at the same time it melts at the thought of the man he’s become. No, become is the wrong word. He’s always been that kind of person. I’ve always known that. I just hope he’s not also hiding behind this new responsibility. I hope the reason he hasn’t opened up to me is because he doesn’t remember not because he wants to forget. To avoid it all. No matter what, I told myself Belle is the priority, and if he decides at some point to talk to me, then I will be there for him. If not, that’s his choice.

  I walk up the driveway and notice the garage door is only a third way up. I hear music and metal clanking. I bend down for a peek and see sweat-pants-covered legs. When my gaze travels up his body, it lands on skin instead of clothes. Shirtless, Logan is deadlifting a pretty hefty-looking bar. And holy hell, he did not have that chest in high school. Not that I ever saw his chest, but I’m certain he wasn’t hiding that under his clothes.

  He spots me and gives a little head nod before squatting to the floor with the weight. He stays low and we are now both kneeling down, staring. That smile, those teeth, that close-cropped beard—they’re going to be the end of me. I promised myself to remain professional and then Lou has to come at me with all her romance crap.

  “Are you going to open the door or what?”

  “Sorry, it’s actually broken. You’ll have to scoot under.”

  Yeah, that’s not happening. “I’ll just go around to the front.”

  “It’s locked.”

  I tilt my head. “So, go let me in.”

  “Don’t be a baby. Just scoot under.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath and begin scooting closer and lower. “I did not sign up for this.”

  Just when I get into a position that looks like I’m taking a pee behind the frat house, Logan busts out laughing. He leans down and throws out his palms at me. “Wait! I’m sorry. I was just messing with you.” Then he stands and moves out of my vision.

  I straighten up and fold m
y arms. “You ass,” I say to the door as it’s rising up in front of me.

  “Excuse me, but that potty mouth is not welcome here. We have children in this house.”

  “Yeah? No shit,” I whisper and push hard at his chest.

  He stumbles backward and looks like he might lose his balance. My brows shoot up, and I hold my breath, praying I didn’t cause him to fall. Thankfully, he recovers and then chuckles. “You’re pretty strong for—”

  “Say it and you’ll see how strong my foot is.”

  “I swear I wasn’t going to. I just wanted to get a rise from you.”

  “Why are you so feisty today? Is it bunco night?”

  “Hilarious.” He grabs a towel and wipes across his forehead and then down his chest. My gaze is pulled along the towel’s path like it’s magnetically charged.

  “Can I just be in a good mood? I’m working out, the house is quiet, and you’re here.”

  “You training for the mommy decathlon?”

  He drops his chin to his chest and fights a grin. “Payback’s a bitch, right?”

  “I owe you at least one more for that door thing.”

  And there’s that golden smile again. Are his eyes twinkling? Look away. This time he doesn’t hold back, like he is reliving my embarrassment.

  “So,” I say, gesturing to his setup. “You hit this stuff pretty heavy?”

  He shrugs. “Pretty much.”

  “You’re in great shape.”

  “So are you.”

  I avert my gaze from his and pad around the garage. “Shouldn’t I be inside with Belle?”

  “She’s still asleep. Probably another twenty minutes or so.”

  “Well don’t mind me then. Continue.” After I check out his set up, which is pretty elaborate for a garage, I watch him pick up some metal hand bells and do some curls. When his eyes catch mine, I pretend not to be staring, if that’s even possible.

  Then another beautiful thing catches my eye. “Wow, nice Harley. Yours?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s my granddad’s…and no one is allowed to ride it.”

  I laugh and try to picture that old guy running a hog down the street.