A Long Way to Fall, page 13
Just as her hackles started to rise, Bridget turned, and their eyes met. They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before the guy also turned, and it became a three-way staring contest. The guy leaned in and said something to Bridget, to which she replied with a nod. The guy raised his glass to Kennedy and chuckled, then walked away.
“Crap,” she whispered. “Well, I guess that solidifies it.”
“Solidifies what?” Seth asked.
Kennedy huffed. “What’s my nickname this time? Oh, come on, Seth. Just tell me now so I don’t have to hear it over someone’s radio.”
“Um…” He stifled whatever he was going to say when Bridget moved toward them.
Kennedy couldn’t read her expression. Was she glad to see her, or was she simply amused by it all?
She stopped in front of them and gave Kennedy a once-over. Again, her expression, though pleasant, told her nothing. “I’ll take it from here, Seth.”
The tone in her voice was much more telling. It wasn’t like before, when she’d been called in to rescue her employee from an unruly guest. This time, the easy smile and friendly tone matched up perfectly. And Kennedy’s first thought was, don’t blow this by saying something stupid.
She let go of Seth’s arm and watched him walk away. She needed a few seconds to catch her breath because every thought in her head, if said out loud, could ruin everything. Things like, hey, I’m totally jealous of that guy, which means I’ve probably got a major crush on you, and I’ll be devastated if you don’t like me too. Yeah, because the truth worked so well in junior high, why not try it again?
She needed a reason to avert her gaze for a little longer, so she said, “Seth is a great employee. You should keep him. Looks like the lobby is full of happy guests. Lots of conversation and drinking and posting selfies to Instagram. Do you offer private skiing sessions too, or is it just the sheriff?”
And then, silence. No reply at all. She had no choice but to turn and meet Bridget’s gaze. Her arms were folded, but she was still smiling. “Where are you headed?” she asked.
“Anywhere you’d like to take me.” It wasn’t a flirty reply so much as just the simple truth, but she still felt the need to apologize. “Sorry. I’m going to sound like a broken record, but I really need to eat something.”
Bridget offered her right arm. Kennedy wrapped her hand around a toned bicep and felt instantly at home. God. She really had fallen hard, which made her wonder how hard it would be to get back up.
Unrequited love was a given for most gay kids, or probably most kids in general, but in Kennedy’s adult life, it had only happened once. And boy had it hurt when Bella Corso-Sanchez had told her it was never, ever going to happen. And yes, she’d actually used the words, never, ever. Granted, Kennedy was only twenty-one at the time. Surely, she’d handle it better in her thirties. Or maybe falling hard for someone only to get her heart broken would never get easier. And maybe most people were smart enough to know that someone who loathed their father, and by proxy, them, was a recipe for love disaster.
Attraction was one thing. And Kennedy had every reason to be attracted to Bridget. But what was going on inside her was more than attraction. Feelings were swirling. The images in her head had gone from just soft-core sex scenes between the two of them to much more intimate moments. The clasping of hands while kissing. Whispering something in her ear. Even walking arm in arm, similar to the way they were now, only closer.
Would it be wrong to move her hand from Bridget’s arm to her waist? Or rest it on the small of her back? Or even just slide it from her bicep to her forearm? She didn’t do any of those things because the only reason they were touching in the first place was because of her damned toe. Any other touching would be unwarranted and most likely unwanted. But the desire to let everyone in the room know, especially the handsome guy, that they were not enemies, and that this was much more than an effort to avoid a slip and fall lawsuit, was strong. So strong that Kennedy did the only thing she dared, which was to glance at Bridget and hope the big smile on her face was returned. Then they’d all know, but more importantly, she’d know that, if nothing else, at least they were no longer bitter enemies.
“What?” Bridget asked, returning the smile.
To recap, she returned the smile. As in, Kennedy smiled at Bridget, and Bridget. Smiled. Back. And it wasn’t just any old smile either. It was the kind of smile that consumed electricity and real estate. A megawatt, how in the hell was this woman not famous, soul-nourishing grin. How weird that no one else seemed to notice it.
Kennedy shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just…I can smell the freshly baked bread from here.” Given her circumstances, it seemed like a good cover for the grin, and one that Bridget seemed to accept. The fact that Bridget’s instinct was to return the smile was what would likely consume Kennedy’s thoughts for at least a week.
“I reserved a spot for you at the bar,” she said. “Order anything you want. Oh, and I’m working on a place for you to sleep tonight.”
Before she could stop herself, Kennedy pulled Bridget into a hug and said, “I’m so grateful, and I know we don’t exactly have a hugging history yet, but I just need to hold on to you for a few seconds, and then I promise to let go, okay?”
The truth was, that hug had nothing to do with who happened to be looking their way. Kennedy just couldn’t go another second without knowing what it felt like to hold Bridget Berg in her arms. And it would’ve felt perfect if the hug had been returned. Just one arm would’ve been enough. Even just a light pat on her back would’ve soothed the ache in her heart. But there was no reaction at all. Before she let go and walked away, she whispered, “Thank you, Bridget. And please remember, I’m not my father.”
* * *
Bridget caught a quick glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror as she hurried into a stall. Of course, she was bright red, but at least she was having a good hair day.
Seeing Harriet, who wasn’t even supposed to be there, stop and stare from across the lobby while Kennedy clung to her, had paralyzed her so much that she hadn’t returned the hug. How could she not return the hug, even slightly? And why the hell was Harriet there on her day off? And what did Kennedy mean when she said they didn’t have a hugging history yet. Yet? That implied future hugs. She knew Kennedy was flirtatious, but she assumed that was part of her magnetic personality. No, not magnetic. Annoying. That was the word she’d meant to think. Wasn’t it?
And the most important question of all: why hadn’t Bridget let Seth walk Kennedy to the restaurant? Clearly, he didn’t know that his sugar mama’s wallet was still buried in a snowbank. But that wasn’t why she’d freed him from the task. She’d done it without thinking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to offer Kennedy her arm. And it felt really good until the surprise hug happened. The one that would be the first of…an unknown number of additional hugs, apparently. She had so many questions. How many additional hugs? Where? When did Kennedy expect these to begin? Would they always be wearing clothes? Was she overthinking the word yet?
As for their first hug, Bridget was caught way off guard by it. Not just a little bit off guard, but way the fuck off guard. It followed a surprising moment when Kennedy had grinned at her like they’d mattered to each other forever, and Bridget’s body—and mouth—reacted instinctively. She felt like she had returned the gesture times a thousand without a thought, care, or reservation. But the hug was different. They were touching, and Bridget panicked. The fact that Harriet and every other employee witnessed it left her not knowing what to do except stand there like a statue and then make a run for the bathroom.
She needed a moment to get her thoughts together and let the blush on her face calm down. Was she shaking? She spread her fingers to confirm it and groaned. Kennedy Fleming was getting under her skin. This time, in the best way, which was also possibly the worst way. Surely, a few moments spent hiding in a bathroom stall would help.
“Bridge? You okay?”
Great. Harriet had just walked into the bathroom. Bridget cleared her throat. “Um, yeah. I’m fine. I thought you were taking the weekend off.”
Harriet’s boots became visible under the door. “I heard about the snowplow and decided to hell with it, I’m going up there and taking that crazy woman off this mountain. She’s too much of a liability.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. The lodge had obviously become a big gossip mill over the last few days, and on top of that, Harriet didn’t trust her to handle it. “How did you get up here? Aren’t the roads terrible right now?”
“Terrible. But I know the twists and turns like the back of my hand.”
“Harriet, you shouldn’t have come back. What were you thinking?”
“After what I just witnessed, I’m glad I did.”
She hadn’t witnessed anything. It was just a hug. A long, lingering hug, followed by a whisper in her ear that might have seemed intimate and certainly made Bridget’s ear tingle, but it wasn’t anything intimate. As hugs went, it was entirely appropriate. Bridget opened the stall door. “Let’s be clear about this, Harriet. Kennedy was just thanking me for the help we’ve given her.”
Harriet had disbelief written all over her face. “I’ll just say one more thing, and then I’ll leave you to do your business,” she said. “Number one, don’t let her walk all over you. And number two, it’s time we stopped living in fear of what the Flemings will do next. She may or may not be just like her father, but you need to let her know that you’re not just like Boden. I’m not going to say your father acted like a doormat at times, but there certainly were instances where he behaved like a mat. That happened to be in front of a door. All the nonsense stops with you. Period.”
“You realize there’s no special parking spot for the Bossiest Employee of the Month, right?”
“Very funny. You know I’m telling you this because I love you like you’re my own. And this place means the world to me. I’ll give you your privacy now.”
Once she was sure Harriet was gone, Bridget checked herself in the mirror. The flush in her cheeks had faded some, so she straightened her shoulders and gave herself a nod. “Harriet’s right. The nonsense stops now. No matter how attracted you are to her, you need to hold the line. For everyone’s sake.”
With those words ringing in her head, Bridget headed back into the restaurant. She’d inform Kennedy that the plan had changed, and she’d be going down the mountain with Harriet later that night. She stopped short at the doorway and froze when she saw the scene in front of her.
Kennedy had an audience. Guests and employees had gathered around as she reenacted what could only have been her incident with the snowplow. When they all erupted in laughter, Bridget found herself giggling too, even though she couldn’t hear what Kennedy had said. She didn’t need to. The words didn’t matter. It was the expression of joy, the light in her eyes—those were the things that solidified in Bridget’s mind that this beautiful woman was indeed not her father. Not even close. And on top of that, Harriet had overstepped her bounds. Maybe this would be a good time to let her know who actually owned the lodge and therefore, made the final decisions.
Chapter Seven
“Stop giving me that mother look. I didn’t ask you to come up here.” Bridget closed Harriet’s office door behind her. “You’re not driving back down the mountain when at least two more inches has fallen in just the last hour.”
Harriet huffed. “I know you gave the penthouse to that woman, and I’m not sleeping in the bunkroom with those kids. I made that mistake once. Didn’t get a wink of sleep.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. You can take my room.”
Harriet raised an eyebrow. “And just where will you sleep?”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Bridget shouted, “Enter.”
Harriet raised both eyebrows, which caused Bridget to turn to find Kennedy standing there. She stood and said, “Hi,” in a soft tone she usually reserved for puppies and kittens. She tried to cover it up with a more forceful tone when she added, “I mean, hi. What’s up? What can we do for you?”
“Sorry if I’m interrupting, but Seth said he’d found a ride down the mountain for me and that I should knock on the manager’s door.” She looked at the door again and tapped the sign with her finger. “Yep, I’m in the right place. Hi, I’m Kennedy Fleming. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
She stepped forward and offered her hand. Much to Bridget’s surprise, Harriet actually stood and shook it. “I’m Harriet, and Seth, bless his little heart, didn’t do anything, so don’t you dare tip him.”
Kennedy put up her hands. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but am I to understand that he was wrong?”
“I’ll leave that up to the boss.” Harriet got up and headed for the door. “But Seth is all mine.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Bridget said. “He just wants to impress his girlfriend with a nice Christmas gift.”
Harriet popped her head back in and said, “You can’t buy love,” before she ducked out again.
Kennedy quirked her head. “That’s funny. My whole life, I assumed that you could buy love.”
“God knows there are plenty of people out there who seem to think everything has a price, even love. Heck, they’re half our target market.”
Kennedy leaned against the wall, right by the door, probably to take the weight off her bad toe. Bridget turned a chair toward her, but Kennedy waved it off. “And what do you think, Bridget?”
“I think you can’t buy your way into love any more than you can buy your way out of heartbreak,” Bridget said. “But, yeah, pretty much everything else has a price.”
“If that’s true, why can’t I buy my way off this mountain? I’ve made every effort I can think of—at great humiliation, I might add—to get myself off this mountain, and yet, neither of us can figure out how to get me back down to civilization.”
“If you’re trying to insinuate that I’m somehow keeping you here…”
“I’m not insinuating anything. Truly, I’m not.”
Bridget wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “I can get you back down the mountain,” she said. “I’ll take you myself if necessary. Just not tonight.”
“Hey, I’m good with that, but now that I’ve had a taste of the good life, I don’t think I can go back to that freezing cold cabin. I’ll sleep in the lobby if I have to. Just give me a bear rug to wrap up in, and I’ll be happy as a clam right in front of the fire.”
Bridget considered it for a moment, but out in the open like that, who knew what Kennedy would get up to? “Turns out, I’m not in possession of a bear rug, so I guess you’ll have to stay in the penthouse with me, and Harriet will sleep in my room.”
Kennedy raised her eyebrows. “I thought you had guests arriving tonight.”
Bridget lowered her gaze. “I may have lied about that.”
“Bridget Berg. I’m shocked, just shocked. And here I thought we had a relationship built on the principles of honesty, trust, and food withholding.”
Bridget pointed at the chair again. “Will you please sit down? You look miserable standing on one foot.”
Kennedy limped over to the chair. “Do you think Harriet would mind if I put my foot up on her desk? It’s throbbing like a motherfu…dger.”
Bridget sat in the other chair. “You just noticed the big, “absolutely no foul language” sign, didn’t you?”
Kennedy nodded. “How could I have missed it?”
“It’s mostly for the younger employees. She says that if their own parents can’t teach them manners, then it’s her job to try. But that was a nice save with the motherfudger thing. I’ll have to remember that one.”
“It saved my butt on more than one occasion, but I’d still get a stink eye from my dad. Sorry, I didn’t mean to mention him.”
“No, it’s a great segue into why I lied to you. The suite I let you use today, it’s my dad’s place. It’s where I grew up. My home. I just had it renovated thinking I’d rent it out, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it, even though it would be quite lucrative.”
Kennedy turned in her chair so they were face-to-face. “Money isn’t always the most important thing.”
“Says the woman who throws it around like beads at a Mardi Gras parade.”
“Hey, now. I require exactly zero flashing of breasts before throwing my money around, thank you very much.”
Kennedy leaned on the arm of her chair, rested her fist under her chin, and unabashedly flirted with those big brown eyes by letting them flit from Bridget’s eyes to her lips, her chest, and back again. If Harriet walked in, she’d probably run into a wall of lesbian chemistry so thick, she’d start speaking in Indigo Girls lyrics.
Bridget looked away first and said in a casual tone not befitting her heart rate, “In any event, money is what we desperately need to keep this place running, so one of these days, I’m going to have to suck it up and rent out the penthouse.”
“Did I sleep in your room?” Kennedy asked.
Bridget gave her a nod. “Yeah.”
Kennedy patted her hand. “You’ll get there. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Her eyes stayed firmly focused on their hands until she pulled hers away and cheerfully announced, “And in the meantime, slumber party!”
Bridget breathed a sigh of relief. She’d needed the energy in the room to lighten up. “Please don’t expect any pillow fights or scary movies,” she said. “How ‘bout we just aim to be civil?”
“You’ve got a deal.” Kennedy stuck out her hand to formalize their extremely important agreement.
Bridget feigned annoyance and rolled her eyes before she shook it. “I suppose you’ll need pajamas? I usually sleep in thermal underwear in the winter.”
