Building Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 1)

by Lia Fairchild

“I keep telling him he’s too damn old to still be riding it.”

  “I guess it depends on how old he is physically and his skill level.”

  “Don’t tell anyone, but Gramps used to be a Hell’s Angel.”

  “No kidding?”

  “It was a long time ago and he found the life wasn’t for him, but he still loves his Harley.”

  “That’s cool.” I walk farther back and lean against a wooden shelf with toolboxes on it and notice a baby monitor looking out of place and giving me comfort all the same. “So how are Belle and Colton adjusting to living here?”

  “Pretty good. But they were here a whole lot before anyway. Nina and my aunt Sheri were really close. People thought they were sisters instead of my dad and uncle being brothers.”

  “And what about you? Are you adjusting to moving back home?” I feel a little trepidation leading him into this territory when I’m so unsure if he wants to discuss it.

  “I was in a, uh, transition period, anyway. So, it hasn’t been too bad. As hard as it was to lose my stepmom, I’m actually glad to be close to my family again.” He picks up the towel again and drapes it over his neck, holding the ends with each hand, causing his biceps to plump up. Good lord.

  “You close to yours?” he says with a pointed stare.

  Turning the tables on me, huh? I turn around and there’s something else on the shelf that catches my eye. I pick up a notebook that is open to a page with writing and charts on it. “What’s this?”

  He chuckles sheepishly and sidles over to me. “That’s my brother. Ryder. He wrote out a whole workout schedule for me. Wants to be my personal trainer for…just this crazy thing he wants me to do.”

  He’s standing right behind me now, looking over my shoulder, and I can barely breathe with his closeness. This is something I have to get over if I’m going to be spending time here. I ignore the heat radiating off his sweaty body. “I think that’s sweet.” I look up and over my shoulder to catch his gaze. “He really looks up to you.”

  “I guess.”

  Our eyes lock in on each other, and I can see the doubt in his. He doesn’t like what I said and I understand why. “So, what’s the crazy thing?” I say, hoping to ease him. But now I see awkwardness, and he swerves his focus away and steps back.

  “Hey, you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?” he says, flipping on me again.

  I wonder how long this dance will last, where we both avoid talking about anything personal.

  “Yes. Well, it’s just a thought. You said Belle is turning four soon?”

  “Yeah, in a month. Why?”

  “What about pre-school? Do you know if your aunt was going to enroll her?”

  His brows furrow but not only in confusion. He seems offended and I think I know why. “Hey this has nothing to do with me not wanting to help out.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  “What then?”

  “Sure you’re not trying to get Belle away from this house? Away from us?”

  Mouth agape, I stare as my heartbeat quickens. “Oh, God. No. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that she’s at that age and without any female figures or girlfriends around…”

  “She might turn out like one of us?”

  I shake my head and touch his arm. “And that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hey, it was just a suggestion.” I put my other hand on my hip. “I am here to help, after all.”

  “So, what are you thinking?”

  “Lots of kids go part time. She could go two or three half days a week, and I’ll still keep coming.” I give him a small smile, hoping he sees I’m sincere.

  “Smile bigger.”

  “What?”

  “I need to see something.”

  “Well I can’t smile now.”

  He stares at me for a second, like he’s thinking. Then he bows his arms down by his sides like the hulk and flexes his muscles. “Urrgghhh!”

  I bust out laughing, sporting a huge smile. “You’re a dork.”

  He immediately straightens and turns serious. “There it is.” He strokes my cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  I barely shake my head, confused, but he seems to know what I’m asking.

  “You have this tiny…wannabe dimple. It doesn’t come out all the time. It’s hard to see unless it’s a big smile, but it’s so…adorable. You should let it out more.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying my facial deformity,” I say because I can’t think of anything else while my body temperature continues to rise.

  “I do believe I’m enjoying everything about you, Mollie.”

  Oh, God, the way he just said my name.

  He takes my wrist and looks down at my bracelets. Suddenly, he seems mesmerized by them and runs two fingers across the top of one. I hold my breath and watch him carefully.

  “These bracelets…” he whispers.

  Then he looks up at me and those dark chocolate eyes spear me with an intensity that causes me to take in a sharp breath. He’s still fingering my wrist and bracelets, and I can see his chest filling more with each breath. He pulls me toward him so our bodies are barely brushing each other with our breaths. “Mollie,” he whispers.

  All I can do is open my mouth because in that moment I don’t know whether to push him away or reach up and place my mouth on his. I don’t know whether to close my eyes and live in the moment or say the words I probably should have said that first day. I’m paralyzed with fear and confusion and before I finish my next thought, he’s reaching his other hand to my face.

  “You’re incredible, Mollie,” he says, running his hand over my hip. Then instead of leaning in, he pulls back. “And, I’m so sorry.” He steps back farther. “I wasn’t thinking. This is such a bad idea, but you’re just so…well, I know why you’re here and…”

  I close the distance between us and run my hand down his arm. “It’s okay. I get it.”

  His smile surfaces for a moment before he hides it away. “It’s like I look in your eyes and forget myself. It’s selfish. You agree. Bad idea, right?”

  As much as it pains me to agree, I do. At least for now. This thing is much more complicated than even Logan realizes. I nod. “It’s probably best.”

  “But we can be friends, right?”

  I can see the hope in his eyes so I grin and nod harder. “Yes. Friends would be great.”

  “More than friends. A team.”

  “Yes, a team.” I put my hand out for him to shake and he does. And just as I suspected, his touch is now more than a simple flirtation. It’s a longing that won’t be easy to fight.

  We shake and when he releases my hand, he makes a fist which he moves in a small circle and holds out in front of me. I get it and put my fist out for him to tap on top. Then I do the same to him.

  “And you’re right,” he tells me when we finish our apparently new friends’ handshake. “I’ll talk to Frank and see what he thinks about preschool.”

  “Great. Is Frank here?”

  “Actually, I’m the only adult here right now which is odd.” He points to the door. “Let’s head into the kitchen.

  I follow and we step inside. “Oh? Where is everyone?”

  “Kids are at school, Dad’s at work, and Gramps went to get a haircut if you can believe that.” He opens the fridge. “Water? Tea? Soda?”

  “Water, please.” He hands one to me and I sit on a barstool at the counter. “I like your gramps. He’s cool.”

  “Thanks. I think he’s pretty cool too,” he says, leaning against the counter, still shirtless.

  Trying not to stare at his pecs, I ask, “So what does your dad do?”

  “My dad and older brother, Mason, work at our family’s construction company. Mase has been pushing my dad to be more active in acquiring new jobs so they’re out doing some recon…”

  “So they’re builders?”

  “Dad is. Mason has a degree in business so…” He lifts a shoulder. “Dad had us all working s
ummers and breaks, teaching us the trade. But Mason always felt he was better than manual labor.”

  His tone is a touch bitter, but I can’t resist asking. “And your uncle? He works there too?”

  He coughs out a laugh. “No, Frank is more of a desk rider. He did PR for years. You know, spinning company images and sneaky subliminal stuff like that. Got laid off over a year ago.”

  I lean back in the chair and glance around the room. It’s clean, which is good but definitely lived in. Cluttery but not in a dirty way. “That must have been hard.” When I don’t hear his answer, I take my gaze back to him. He was watching me checking things out. “Sorry, I wasn’t—”

  “It’s okay. I know. What were you saying?”

  “Frank. That must have been hard for him.”

  “Oh…yeah.” Then he seems to think better of it, sets the water down, and folds his arms. “No, screw that. Hard is everything that’s happened since then. My aunt had to go back to work. She is…was a teacher. And she loved it, but she wanted to be with her kids, and not leave them with her has-been of a husband whose part-time job became wallowing in self-pity.”

  “So, you don’t like your uncle too much, huh?”

  “I know I sound harsh when his wife just died but look at the reality. You and I are here doing what we can to make things right.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. “But, Mollie, he does love his kids.” His voice softens. “Please don’t get me wrong. I know Frank will come around. He’s struggling with the loss, but I won’t let him mess this up. Trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “And I promise I’ll bring up the preschool thing.” He gestures with his head for me to follow him down the hallway. “Let’s go wake the Belly Bean.”

  Just the mention of her makes me giddy and I bop along behind him. We both pad quietly along the hall even though our intention is to wake her. We stop in the doorway and watch because we both know it’s a beautiful sight to see—an innocent child sleeping. We exchange glances. Friendly glances that we are both trying to maintain.

  After a few moments, he bumps my shoulder with his, indicating I go inside. I comply and take a seat on the edge of her little bed. She’s on top of a yellow comforter and her arm is draped around what looks like a hippo. When her eyes finally flutter open, it’s like watching the sun rise. Bright blue eyes slowly unveiled by lids pulling up long, thick lashes.

  We spend the rest of my time there with Belle—reading, coloring, snacking, and talking. The boot limits physical play so we are making do. Every so often, Belle touches my face or my hair, and I don’t mind because I know I’m the only women she has contact with. It almost feels too good, and I don’t even want to face what’s happening to me with this little one. She’s winning my heart, and she’s not the only one. Just before they have to leave to pick up Colton from school, Logan tells me he wants to show me something. He sets Belle up on the couch and stands behind her. “He’s been practicing,” she tells me. He begins brushing her hair and then separates the strands into pieces. Then he proceeds to do a braid similar to the one I gave Belle when she was at the hospital. When he’s done, they both flash me triumphant smiles.

  Yep, I’m so gone.

  Chapter 8

  Logan

  It’s almost half time in the game, and I look at my cell phone for probably the tenth time, hoping to see a message from Mollie. When she said she’d try to make it, I assumed that meant she would be here by now, but I’m about to give up hope—even as I mentally scold myself for hoping in the first place.

  Justice invited Mollie when she was at the house this week. It surprised me—that he asked and that she accepted. A small part of me is nervous we are all getting too attached to Mollie already when she is only a temporary fixture in our lives.

  “Hello, Justice’s family,” Turner’s mom says as she chases after Turner’s little sister. When Abby waddles by, I glance over my shoulder at Belle and hope she doesn’t see her. We told her she could only come today if she didn’t run around in that boot.

  “Hello, Turner’s Mom,” I say back.

  “Hey, Cath,” Gramps says in a tone I don’t recognize. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Cathy is divorced, and the school pride shirt she’s wearing looks like it’s Belle’s size.

  I chuckle to myself. Good for Gramps. He thinks my plan to have Mollie around is pretty convenient for me so I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I almost chuckle thinking about how true his words were, but of course I denied it to his face. He caught me spying on Mollie and Belle the other day. I hadn’t meant to, but when I heard their sweet voices from the other room, I found myself being pulled down the hall, like when a song lights you up inside and makes you reach to turn it louder. I stood outside the door and listened to Mollie read my Belly Bean a story, and like always, Belle interrupted a million times. What’s that? Why is she holding that? What happened to the boy? Just the sound of Mollie’s replies affected me. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but something about the sound of her voice felt so familiar, so comforting.

  Justice hands off to the running back and he fumbles the ball. We’re down by seven but with how bad they’re playing right now it should be worse. I glance at my phone once more and figure Mollie is not going to make it. I’m disappointed but how can I be mad? I’m not. I just can’t seem to stop myself from analyzing her actions. While I appreciate what she is doing for my family and why, I can’t help wishing she is doing it for a different reason. Selfish as it is, I like having her around for me. Something about her presence makes me feel…present. In the moment. The past I miss, the past I crave, the past I dread thinking about—the past I can’t remember… It all goes away when I’m near her. But I have to keep my expectations in check. I’m just surprised she would let Justice down today. And Belle for that matter.

  I take another look over at the little runt who is sitting in a chair with her leg propped up, watching a video on my iPad. I held her piggyback style for the first quarter and my limbs finally gave out. Yeah, I could have powered through to prove something to myself, but that’s the selfish mindset I don’t have time for these days.

  Gramps and Ryder flank her, standing with their arms folded like secret service in case an errant ball or player comes her way, Gramps pridefully watching his grandson on the field, Ryder looking for any foul up or excuse to give Justice crap after the game. Colton sits on the grass playing with a rocket.

  A whistle blows on the field, taking my attention to a mound of players at the twenty-yard line. We are on defense now so I don’t have to worry about Justice’s skinny ass getting crushed at the bottom, though he is an expert at the fifty-yard dash right out of bounds.

  In an instant Ryder is by my side shoving his phone in my face.

  “Dude, stop. I’m watching the game.”

  “Look,” he whines. “See the date.” He points to the form with a huge grin on his face.

  I sigh because I don’t want to disappoint the kid, but he’s living in a dream world. “Ry, I told you no. I can’t even think about that now. It’s just not possible.”

  “But why? I know you can do it. You said you’d try.”

  A squeal from Belle behind me and a tap on my shoulder alerts me my wait is finally over, and I smile. When I turn around, I’m surprised to find two women standing before me. Mollie is there looking enticing as ever, albeit a little frazzled, along with her neighbor I met a few weeks ago.

  I give Ryder the death glare and whisper to him, “Put that away and get back over there.”

  As he jams his phone into his pocket, he says, “Would you rather a girl catch you digging up your nose or beating your sausage?”

  Holy hell, this kid. “Go,” I whisper with irritation but smile when Mollie’s gaze grabs mine.

  Ryder gives the two women hellos as he returns back to the Bridges clan.

  “Hey,” Mollie says tentatively, her eyes seeming to seek my forgiveness. “Sorry I’m late, but the piec
e O’ crap that drives me around wouldn’t start.”

  “Bummer, but I’m glad you made it.” Our eyes lock for a moment and then I turn to her older companion. “Hello. Lou, right?”

  “Yes, it’s nice to see you again.” She eyes me like I’ve got a blue ribbon pinned to my chest.

  “You too.” I gesture over her shoulder. “Let me introduce you to some of my family.”

  Mollie places her hand on my arm, and it’s so natural I want to take it and entwine my fingers with hers. “I’ll do it,” she tells me and slides her hand away too quickly for my liking. “You watch your brother.”

  I turn to focus back on the game but really I’m on high alert to what’s going on behind me. I wonder why Mollie brought her little golden girl. But when I glance over my shoulder and see the lights in Belle and Colton’s eyes as they speak—yes, even Colton says a few words—with both women, I realize it doesn’t matter. Then I chuckle at Gramps who seems to be playing it cool, pretending nothing is happening but the game in front of him. Mollie catches me watching and comes to my side.

  She lines her body up right next to mine so our arms connect as if we are magnets. “Sorry about this,” she says quietly. She tilts her head toward my neck and a burst of sweet sunshine hits my nose. “I asked to borrow her car and somehow here we both are.”

  “What’s that smell?” I ask, completely overcome by it. “You smell like sunshine and rainbows—okay, I heard that out loud and now I can’t take it back.” I run a hand through my hair and give her a sidelong glance.

  She giggles and shoves me with a little shoulder bump that makes me want to tackle her to the grass and pin her arms to the ground. Just a friendly tickle and roll session, which I’d conveniently use to my advantage. But, thanks to the damn friendship pact, I have to take what I can get.

  “My shampoo, I guess. Peach something… It was on sale. Did you even hear what I said?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug and put my hands in my pockets, turn back to the game before her soft gray gaze melts me into a helpless coma. “Lou’s cool. I like her. Plus, listen to that angel’s song behind us,” I say, referring to Belle’s chattering.