Chapter Sixteen

Jack stood from the table and held out his hand to Bridget. She placed hers in it and he noticed how cold and shaky her fingers were. He wanted to scream with frustration. His friends and this dinner had been the worst idea. Bridget had been uncomfortable the whole meal and her gaze kept cutting back to the thick folio that held the bill inside it. The just-over-a-thousand-dollars receipt. That he had paid in full, like an ass. She wasn’t dumb and had to know how much he’d dropped on one meal. He wanted to kick himself. All he’d wanted was to treat her to a nice dinner. Why had he decided the top-rated, most expensive restaurant in Portland was the place to take her? He should’ve walked out with her when she had questioned the price of the wine. They’d had fish and chips with beer last night, dammit. This wasn’t the world Bridget lived in and from her reaction, it wasn’t one she wanted to join either.

“You should join us for dancing!” Sabrina exclaimed. “We’re going over to this great little jazz club. It’s like a speakeasy and they have a live band with a dance floor. You two have to come!”

Mentally Jack facepalmed himself. In no way did he want to continue with this evening with Stephen and Sabrina. He wanted to get Bridget back to the hotel and distract her into bed and hope this all blew over.

“That sounds great!” Bridget grinned.

Shit, he was in such trouble. That wasn’t her real smile and she was carrying fine tension in her shoulders.

She shot him a look and nodded. “We should go with your friends. It would be fun.”

She was doing all of this for him. Because these were his friends. He loved her even more for the effort she was making to try to join his world, but there was a reason he’d stepped out of it. Why he was drawn to her earthiness and gentle nature. He wanted someone genuine and true. Not fake who only cared about appearances and money like Sabrina.

“Wonderful, let’s go grab a cab.” Sabrina looped her arm through Bridget’s then led them back down the stairs and out into the misty October night.

The club was small and intimate with dark wood furniture and red leather booths lining the walls. Small circular tables filled the space between the bar and the dance floor. On the stage was a six-person jazz band, and couples were already cutting loose to their music. They grabbed a table up front and Stephen offered to get the first round, which Jack gladly let him take. Bridget was already suspicious enough with him paying for dinner. No need to pique her suspicions even more. Maybe another drink and some dancing would help him get this night back to where he’d hoped it would be with the two of them.

She was less tense now, but she was still wearing her customer smile, not a genuine one. Their drinks arrived and Bridget took a long swallow of her Moscow Mule.

Okay, that was enough. He grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go dance, honeybee.”

Her eyes grew wide and she gave a little shake of her head as he pulled her to standing. “I can’t dance.” She cut her eyes to the swing-dancing happening on the floor. “And I really can’t move like that.”

He pressed his lips to her ear. “Just follow my lead, baby.”

They joined the others on the worn, wooden floor and while Jack didn’t have quite the skill that some others did, he had enough from the horrible ballroom dancing classes his mother had insisted he take back in high school. He’d hated every minute, but right now Jack had never been more grateful for those lessons. With one hand at Bridget’s waist and the other with her fingers in his, he started them off, a simple moving their feet in time with the beat until real happiness took over her expression.

“Jack! You’re good at this!”

He swung her out and twirled her back in so she was flush against him. Her laughter was a balm to his soul. Finally, he’d gotten something right this evening. He moved them across the floor, hips swaying, feet sliding and Bridget twirling and grinning. He’d have stayed there forever if he could. Or at least until Stephen and Sabrina left because he didn’t want reality to crash through his new world. He wanted this…Bridget in his arms and her smile warming him to his soul. Nothing else seemed as important as this woman and all of the potential a life with her held.

The beat changed into a slower, sexier melody. He spun her again, and this time when she landed against him, Jack pressed his lips to hers and let go of everything around them. He slid his hands up and cupped her jaw as he plundered her mouth and Bridget softened and melted into him. In response, his whole body grew hard. Keeping one palm in place, he shifted the other to grasp her hip as he rocked against her in time to the slow, soulful music that now filled the air.

She pulled back on a gasp and looked at him with wild eyes. Lust-filled eyes. She ruined him entirely. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and her pupils expanded even larger. “Jack…I love you, too.” Bridget ducked her chin. “But you already know that.”

He lifted her face back up to his. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want those words from you again. And I should have told you sooner, because I do love you.” Her smile warmed him to his toes. “Honeybee, what do you say we get out of here? Head back to our hotel?”

“Perfect.” She leaned in and kissed him again, sweeter and softer. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room first. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her go, not at all abashed as he stared at her ass in that dress while she walked away. Then he sauntered over to their table and finished his Irish whiskey in one long gulp.

Stephen clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, that was quite the display. Practically screwed your girlfriend on the dance floor.” His laugh was low and gritty. “I had no idea lower-class girls were so fun to slum it with. I might have to find a nice side piece. Want to introduce me to her friends?”

Jack jerked away and clenched his fists. Hot anger boiled in his blood. How dare anyone—especially a supposed friend of his—speak about Bridget that way? “She’s not lower-class and she isn’t some kind of joke to me. Now get the hell out of my face before I forget that we used to be friends.”

He stepped back and held up his hands. “Whoa. Sorry, bro. Really. I guess I didn’t realize how serious you were about her. She does seem very…sweet. Wholesome. It’s refreshing given the jaded women in our world. I hope it works out for you two. It’s an uphill battle, but you’re the most determined person I know.”

Jack grunted, not trusting he still wouldn’t lash out at him for insulting Bridget. He wanted to get the hell out of there and back to the hotel where he could focus on her and forget the rest of the world existed. Then she came out of the bathroom with Sabrina trailing behind her and he knew that plan had been shattered.

She stalked up to their table, grabbed her drink and downed it in three long swallows. Slamming the copper mug to the wood, she said, “Ready to go?” Her eyes were bleary but a little manic.

He took her hand and threw a glare over her shoulder. “Sure, honeybee. Let’s go.”

 

* * * *

As soon as they were in the back of their rideshare, she turned to him and opened her mouth, but Jack closed his eyes, laid his head on the seat and sighed.

“I know we need to talk, but do you think we could table this conversation? For tonight, can we pretend we didn’t run into my jerk friends? I promise we can talk about them later, but I don’t want them to ruin what was supposed to be a weekend for you to relax and us to spend time together.”

He looked exhausted and a little bit of her melted inside. Biting back her words, worry and insecurities, Bridget nodded. “All right.” The booze from her drink at the club and the wine from dinner caught up with her all of a sudden. She swayed a little. “I think I’m a bit drunk anyway.”

“Yeah, I was afraid that might happen,” Jack said and pulled her into his arms.

She relaxed into him and savored his warmth. With a sigh, she let the rhythm of the car lull her into a light sleep. Jack’s gentle shaking roused her and she sat up and blinked. “Are we at the hotel already?”

“Yeah. Should we go back to our room?”

She grabbed his hand and let him help her out of the car and up to their room. She shucked her shoes and dress, brushed her teeth and swiped a washcloth over her face. Then she collapsed into the massive bed, tired and tipsy and pissed off that this was the ending to this evening. She’d envisioned a much more passionate and fun way to wrap things up, but instead Jack climbed in beside her and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Bridget. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.”

She nuzzled into his chest with closed eyes and heavy limbs. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

“For what? Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.” She giggled. “I’m still a little drunk. But this is nice. I like snuggling with you.”

She felt him press little kisses to the top of her head. “Same, honeybee. Same.”

 

* * * *

 

The next morning, Bridget woke up groggy with a mild headache. When she rolled over, a soft groan escaped her as she winced at the sunlight.

“Morning,” Jack said, his voice low and gruff with sleep. He climbed onto the bed and stretched out next to her.

“Good morning. Where’d you go?”

“The room service I ordered arrived. I think I might have woken you when I got up to answer. Want some coffee?”

“Mmm, yes please.” She sat up and looked down at the shirt she was wearing. One of Jack’s soft cotton T-shirts that came down to mid-thigh on her. Last night came back to her and she winced at the memories. Ugh, how had things gotten so off course from what had otherwise been an almost perfect day? The scent of strong, black coffee hit her nose and she smiled gratefully. She took the mug and sipped. The hot liquid warmed her and helped settle her stomach. “Thanks, I needed this.”

“There’s eggs and bacon. Toast and waffles, too.”

“How many people are you feeding this morning?” She chuckled and scooted out of the bed. “Lead the way. I’m surprisingly hungry.”

After breakfast and a shower, she repacked her things into her small suitcase while Jack did the same. When they were both done, she looked around the room. It bothered her that the last memories she’d have of this crazy luxurious suite had been tainted by last night. This weekend’s promise had been so close to amazing, then those friends of his had rained all over it.

“No. Not happening,” she muttered.

“Huh?” Jack looked at her with furrowed brows.

Bridget grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him to her. She kissed him hard and wrapped one leg over his hip, letting gravity take them onto the bed. Then they were shedding clothes, lost in each other and their passion.

When they finally re-dressed over an hour later, both of them wore smiles. The valet put their bags into the back of the truck as Bridget settled next to Jack in the cab. Once they were on the road, she nestled close and let the last vestiges of the tension plaguing her fall away.

“So, you want to tell me about those friends of yours?”

He blew out a long breath. “Stephen is someone I’ve known for years and Sabrina is his girlfriend. They’ve been dating for a while. She was in our social circle and finally sank her claws into him.”

That seemed like an oversimplification, but also startlingly accurate. “Yeah, that sounds about right. With Sabrina, at least.”

“What did she do? You came back from the bathroom upset.”

“Are you rich?” She shook her head and twisted to look at him. “No, I know you have to have money. How rich are you?”

“Bridget…” He laced one hand with hers. “I’m… My family is comfortable. It’s not something I like to rely on and I’ve worked since I was sixteen. But yeah, I’m definitely a rich, privileged white dude.”

“That’s sort of what she insinuated.”

“What did she say?” His voice was gentle, but she saw the way the muscles in his jaw were tight.

“She asked where I bought my dress. I told her Ann Taylor, and she said that was perfect because she needed to get something appropriate as a gift for her maid.” The shock from last night had worn off and now she was left with only embarrassment and shame with a dash of anger. Anger at this woman that Bridget didn’t know for making her feel so small. And at herself for allowing Sabrina to stir her up like this. Bridget was a typical adult in America. Sabrina was the elitist who lived in a world that most people had never conceived of. The problem was that Jack also lived there, too. Or he had.

She glanced up. His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe that bitch. I’m so sorry. I’ve never liked her, but I tolerated her for Stephen’s sake. But after last night, I don’t think he’s someone I want as a friend either. He’s changed. Or maybe I have.” He looked at her for a moment before focusing back on the road. “I’m not part of that circle anymore. That isn’t my world, and as you can tell from meeting my sister, it’s not how my family operates.”

Jack eased off to the side of the road and threw the truck into park. Rain splattered the windshield in slow drops that soon sped up to a downpour. He turned and cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t want that life. I want what we have. I want you, honeybee.”

She blinked at the stinging in her eyes. The rough calluses on his hands proved he wasn’t afraid to do real work…backbreaking, dangerous work. The sincerity in his eyes, the softness of his expression told her his words were true. “I want you, too.” She kissed him slow and sweet, then turned up the simmering heat between them until they were both panting to catch their breath. “Let’s go home, Jack.”

 

* * * *

Jack’s phone rang and he ignored the call. His father’s nonstop calling was taking a toll, but he was stronger than his phone. Over and over and over it rang. He arrived at the work site for the day and shook his head at the massive equipment. Who knew the base of an old World War II tank could be transformed into logging equipment designed to haul massive piles of logs up giant hills so they could be loaded onto the trucks for delivery to the buyers? He pulled his hat over his ears and tugged on his gloves, then joined the crew in charge of arranging the trees into the truck beds. Around him the rumors flew about what was happening to their company. He ignored it as best he could, but the words still permeated into his consciousness.

“I hear the sale is coming any day now. We’ll all be out of jobs before Thanksgiving,” Charlie griped.

“Shit. Do you think Fallbank will survive? I mean we have the B&Bs and there’s some good stores, but this is our only big industry,” Jacob replied.

“I hear the witch’s store is doing all right.”

Jack froze at the mention of Bridget. Did these guys not realize they were speaking about his girlfriend? Or maybe they hadn’t noticed he was right here?

Jacob spit off to the side. “I don’t know who would buy stuff from a witch, but maybe they don’t know what she is.”

“Yeah, she needs to be taught a lesson.” Charlie grunted as he shifted a log into place on the stack.

“What did you just say?” Jack spun around to face the two guys. He’d done his best to ignore their conversation. After all, fighting with idiots rarely changed anyone’s mind. But there was only so much he could take. When someone threatened the woman he loved, he couldn’t let it go. “Did you notice I was right here?”

They gave him blank stares. “Yeah, so?” Jacob said. “What of it?”

“Bridget is my girlfriend. You know, the ‘witch’ you were just talking about teaching a lesson.” Jack clenched his fists against the anger pounding inside him. First this weekend with Stephen and Sabrina…now hearing this crap from coworkers was more than he was able to handle.

Charlie sneered at him. “Then maybe you need to get a handle on your bitch. Teach her where her place is, or we will.”

“I’m going to give you three seconds to get out of my face and shut your stupid mouth. I don’t have tolerance for ignorant, prejudiced jackasses.”

“Hey, guys. Let’s all calm down.” Cornelius walked over. “Everyone back off and give each other space.”

“Yeah, sure. Everyone knows you’re another witch lover, too. It’s disgusting.”

Jack let his fist fly. It landed on Charlie’s jaw with a satisfying crack. Pain shot through his bones, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rocked back on his heels and threw a second punch with his other hand, this one slamming right into Charlie’s nose.

All hell broke loose.

Jacob jumped at him and shoved Jack into the ground. The two of them rolled in the dirt, fists flying with insults and swearing slinging back and forth. Charlie dripped blood, his palms clamped over his damaged nose as he tried to kick Jack. Cornelius threw himself into the fray and grappled with Charlie while shouting for others to help pull Jack and Jacob apart.

Jack took a few hits to the ribs and one to the face, but he gave as good as he got. He let all of his rage and stress and frustration with life in general out as he fought to defend Bridget’s reputation. And who would’ve thought he’d be doing something so stupid in this day and age? The thought didn’t stop him, though. Being yanked off of Jacob was what stopped him.

His boss stood in front of all of them, red-faced and looking ready to spew fire. “I ought to fire every last one of you. What do you think you’re doing fighting like a bunch of juveniles? You are all grown men and could land yourself in jail for assaulting each other. I should call the police and press charges. Not to mention how damn dangerous this kind of stupid behavior is around all of this equipment. The yarder, the saws and the piles of logs could all kill you when you’re being careful, let alone acting like clowns. And it wasn’t just you who could be hurt or killed!”

Shame flooded Jack as he realized the asinine way he’d acted. What had he been thinking getting into a fist fight, especially on a logging job site? He should be fired. If he were the owner, there was no way he’d tolerate this at all. “I’m sorry, Paul. You’re right. This was inexcusable.”

“Get off my job site for the rest of the day. You’re all on probation. Come back in a week and we’ll see how generous I’m feeling.”

“I can’t go without pay for an entire week,” Jacob whined.

“You should’ve thought about that when you decided to brawl on my job site.”

Charlie pointed at Jack. “He started it.”

“I don’t care who started it!” Paul shouted, his face a mottled purple. “You were fighting. Period. Get out of here, now.”

Jack muttered another apology and shuffled off to his truck. Once inside, he blew out a heavy breath and winced as he took stock of his injuries. His ribs hurt from where Charlie had landed a kick and his cheek and eye throbbed from Jacob’s excellent right hook. He knew without looking in a mirror that he’d be sporting a black eye for a week or two. Ashamed and angry at himself, he threw the truck into drive and headed back into town. Hopefully his gorgeous witch girlfriend would have a remedy for him. And maybe a little pity instead of ire at his shenanigans?