A Long Way to Fall, page 14
“I’ll take whatever you’re offering, but in those soft sheets, I’m also just fine with sleeping in my birthday suit. Your choice.”
“Thank you for appreciating them. Linens are one of our biggest expenses.” Bridget reached into her pocket. “Here’s the key. Make yourself at home, and I’ll send up some snacks later.”
“Will you be joining me? Maybe we could watch a straight rom-com while munching on peanut M&Ms and caramel popcorn, which I happen to know you sell in your little store downstairs.”
“Why a straight rom-com?”
Kennedy threw her palms up. “Because, hello, that’s all there is out there.”
“There’s Imagine Me & You.”
“Okay, there’s one. And I’m over it. I can’t take that scene where she’s giving her husband’s speech at their wedding anymore. I mean, it’s so obvious that she’s not in love with him, and yet, she marries him anyway.”
Bridget shook her head. “Yeah. That’s straight people for you.”
“Also, who kisses a girl right after telling her it absolutely cannot happen?”
“Isn’t that basically when most kisses happen?” Bridget asked.
“In movies, sure. Maybe in romance novels. But in real life? Not so much.”
“Fine,” Bridget said. “But who would seriously say, ‘I dare you to love me’ to a straight married person?”
“Um. In my experience, most lesbians have tried that at one time or another.”
“Maybe not in so many words, but I get your point. Also, is that really what a lily symbolizes?”
“Obviously,” Kennedy exclaimed. “Only a wanker wouldn’t know that. Actually, I don’t have a clue, but God, I love that movie so much.”
Bridget sighed. “Yeah, me too.”
After a brief pause, Kennedy threw a finger in the air and said, “Wait, I’ve got it. We could watch All the Jingle Ladies. You know, it’s that Hallmark-y lesbian Christmas movie that came out last year. Oh my God, I must’ve watched it ten times in a row. Lacey Matthews is just so…”
Bridget knew who Lacey Matthews was. Every lesbian on the planet knew who she was. But she hadn’t seen the movie Kennedy was referring to. “Did you say, All the Jingle Ladies?”
Kennedy put her hand up. “I know, it’s a cheesy title for the best made-for-TV lesbian movie ever, but I’m telling you, it’s so adorable and romantic. Oh, and did I mention Lacey Matthews is one of the leads?”
Bridget grinned. “A couple of times now.” She stood and said, “As intriguing as you make it sound, I probably won’t be able to watch it with you tonight. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the fun never stops when you’re running a ski lodge. Sadly, there won’t be any Dance Dance Revolution or Lacey Matthews for us tonight.” It didn’t sound intriguing; watching a romantic movie with Kennedy sounded downright dangerous. Bridget couldn’t go there. Ever.
“Fine.” Kennedy got up and limped to the door. “At the very least, I should warn you that this thing between us absolutely cannot happen. And now I’m going to leave and slam the door, so brace yourself for what comes next.”
“Wait, what?” Not sure if Kennedy was joking or if she actually planned to come barreling back into the office only to have them land on a nonexistent bed of roses and rip each other’s clothes off, Bridget leaned on the edge of the desk, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. She laughed under her breath at the silliness, but at the same time, she found herself hoping that Kennedy really would burst through that door just so she could say, “Did you really think I’d be bracing myself for a passionate kiss?” And then Kennedy would say something like, “Hey, it was worth a try.”
Her heart leapt when the door flew open. The euphoria lasted for all of one second when she realized it was Harriet. “Why are you grinning like the Cheshire Cat?”
Bridget might have been smiling, due to her current state of amusement, but she was not grinning like some cartoon. She leaned to the side to see if Kennedy was standing behind Mrs. Harriet Buzzkill or if she’d scared her off. Irritated that no one was there, Bridget pushed herself off the desk and mumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as she left the office.
* * *
Kennedy stood at Bridget’s bedroom door inside the penthouse. She couldn’t think of a time she’d ever stood outside a door for this long. Should she knock, or would it be better to leave Bridget alone after such a long day? She glanced at her watch again, even though she knew it would still be ten past eleven. Which was exactly zero minutes past the last time she had looked.
She’d waited until she heard the shower turn off, then waited a few more minutes to give Bridget time to get into bed. All movement had stopped at nine past eleven, which meant she needed to knock or bail. Otherwise, she risked waking Bridget up.
She lifted her hand and knocked. “Bridget? Are you still up?”
“Come in.”
She opened the door to find Bridget sitting up in bed. “Am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all. I thought you were asleep.”
Kennedy shut the door behind her. “Can’t sleep.” She pointed at the bed. “Mind if I sit for a minute?”
Bridget patted the edge of the bed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” She put one leg up so she could face Bridget. The only light in the room came from the bathroom, but as Kennedy’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she could tell by her relaxed expression that Bridget wasn’t annoyed. That was a relief since she didn’t have a good reason for the disturbance, other than a strong need to be near her again. After their conversation about movies they’d probably never watch together, Kennedy had felt like she was limping on clouds. Sure, she was disappointed that they couldn’t spend the evening together. Nonetheless, they’d had a great conversation, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the huge wall Bridget had put up between them was starting to show cracks. And she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep until she could determine if she was right. “Long day for you, huh?”
Bridget sighed and leaned back against her pillow. “I think Harriet was determined to keep me downstairs for as long as possible.”
Having just been given the perfect segue only five seconds into their conversation, Kennedy put up a finger. “Speaking of Harriet. I don’t want you to think I’d left you hanging earlier.”
“That’s assuming, of course, that I had indeed braced myself for what was about to happen.”
Kennedy hesitated. Bridget had been so quick to respond, it made her think that she wasn’t the only who wondered what would’ve happened if she’d gone back in that office. She tilted her head and said, “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Brace yourself. I mean, a slightly wider stance would’ve been enough, so if there was any foot movement whatsoever, I’m gonna call it a win.”
Bridget gave her a sly grin. “Oh, I was ready for you. Just not in the way you’re imagining.”
Kennedy slumped her shoulders. “Damn. I thought it was a genius move, but it turns out, I could’ve crashed and burned so hard, there would’ve been no coming back.” She clasped her hands together and looked upward. “Whoever’s up there, thank you for intervening on my behalf when I so clearly needed it.”
Bridget giggled. “Amen.”
It was the cutest giggle Kennedy had ever heard, and she wanted to hear it again, but she could tell that Bridget needed a good night’s rest. So she stood and said, “Sleep well, Bridget Berg.”
“You too, Kennedy Fleming.”
Kennedy put a hand on her hip. “Wow, am I off my game. I thought for sure you’d sit up, reach for my hand, and tell me not to leave.” She threw her hands in the air and turned. “It must be the altitude. I’m like a cake mix that you have to add more flour or oil or something to this high up.”
“Kennedy?”
She stopped at the door and turned back. Bridget was sitting up again, but she didn’t have her hand outstretched. Kennedy stayed where she was and said, “See, the way this works is, you have to reach for me, or I might misinterpret why you just said my name.” She lifted her arm to demonstrate. “See, like this, as if you’re desperate to touch me.”
Bridget shook her head and laughed under her breath. “I was just going to say that I’ll have someone dig your stuff out of the snowbank tomorrow.”
“Oh. Or we could leave it for future generations to find. I think they’d be enthralled by my choice of facial cleanser and eyeliner, don’t you?”
“Except that it does eventually get warm here, and by late spring, it’ll just be a dirty suitcase lying on the side of the road.”
“Right. Right! This isn’t Siberia, and we’re not Neanderthal women.” Kennedy pointed at the door. “I think I’m just gonna go and brush up on my geology, maybe look at a few weather patterns. So I guess, um, nighty, night.” She closed the door behind her and limped as fast as she could back to her room where she threw the covers over her head and groaned. “I really need to stop making a fool of myself.” And she wasn’t even referring to the “nighty night” thing, although, once she’d thought of it, what in the actual hell was that?
She shot back up and turned her ear to the door. Yep, Bridget was calling her. She went back to Bridget’s door and in a casual tone, asked, “Did you say something?”
“Sorry for yelling for you. I was too lazy to get out of bed.”
Kennedy closed the door again and went to the bed. Bridget had a bottle of lotion in one hand. “Is this where you ask me to apply suntan lotion to your entire body, and then I get turned on, and then you get turned on, and then we cut to tomorrow morning, and you have this glow about you that Kevin the bartender notices?”
Bridget grimaced. “Um, just kill me now if any of my employees know when I’ve had sex.”
“Did I say sex? With me?” Kennedy pointed at herself. “Well, if we must, but remember that it was your idea.” She started to loosen the tie on her robe, but Bridget fell over on her side in a fit of laughter. She tightened her robe and sat on the bed. “Seriously, though. What did you need?”
Bridget rolled over. Her face was bright red, and she had tears in her eyes. “Apparently, I needed a good laugh.” She held on to her tummy while she caught her breath. “God, you’re hilarious, Kennedy.”
“Thanks, but I’m not quite sure how to feel about the fact that you find the idea of it so funny.”
Bridget leaned up on her hands. “No, it was the way you flipped it around on me and started that little striptease.” She sat up and crossed her legs under her. “You have this way of being both funny and sexy at the same time.”
Kennedy couldn’t suppress the huge, cheesy grin that no doubt took over her face. Clearly, her flirtatious jackhammer had indeed put some rather large cracks in that big wall. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe Bridget was finally seeing Kennedy for who she really was. She turned away long enough to regain a bit of composure and then met her gaze again and said, “Right back atcha.”
“But I can’t,” Bridget said. “Even if…”
She covered her eyes, so Kennedy finished the sentence for her. “Even if you wanted to?”
Bridget uncovered her eyes. “It’s bigger than this right here.”
Kennedy turned away again. She didn’t want Bridget to see her frustration. “I don’t know. This feels pretty big.” Bridget didn’t reply, so Kennedy stood and stuffed her hands into her robe pockets. “But I’ll take what I can get.” She offered her hand. “Friends?”
“I’d like that.” Bridget took her hand and didn’t let go for a moment. “I’ll even throw in the robe and slippers.”
Kennedy smiled. “I was going to steal them anyway.” Bridget still had hold of her hand. It felt warm and comfortable and right. One tug of that soft hand was all it would take for her to crawl onto the bed and straddle Bridget. She said it in her head a few times. Tug on my hand, Bridget. Come on, one tug, and I’m yours for the night. Or longer. No, definitely longer. One night with Bridget Berg would never be enough. She’d need at least five nights to memorize every part of her body. Every little freckle. Every scar. There were bound to be a few scars from all her years of competitive skiing, and Kennedy wanted to kiss each and every one. Five nights would be enough time to get to know her body, but she’d need more than that if she wanted to know her heart. Her mind. She couldn’t put a number on that one. Thirty nights? Three hundred? A lifetime?
Kennedy was getting ahead of herself. The tug she longed for wasn’t going to happen, so with their hands still joined she said, “What’s that saying? Love me or let me go? I’d prefer the former, but—” Bridget let go. “Okay, then. Good night.” Kennedy backed away. “It’s bittersweet, me leaving. You know that, right?”
Bridget pointed at her. “See? Sexy and funny.”
“Oh, please keep saying that word. Only slower this time. And with more…” Her back hit the door. “Okay. I’m really leaving now. Good-bye, Bridget. May we meet again in the afterlife. Or tomorrow morning. Whichever comes first. I mean, I’ll probably come first when I get back to my room, but…don’t forget me, okay?”
Bridget grinned. “I won’t remember anything else.”
Kennedy clapped her hands like one of those movie slates. “And scene. God, we’ve both watched that movie too many times.”
“Maybe some time, we can watch it together.”
Kennedy opened the door. “I’m holding you to that one, Bridget Berg. Nighty night.” There it was again, the stupid nighty night thing.
Just as Kennedy was about to kick herself all the way down the hall for saying it again, Bridget replied, “Nighty night.”
For some reason, the reply made Kennedy cover her heart with her hand as she closed the door. She stood there for a moment, hoping it wouldn’t be the first and last time she heard Bridget say those words.
Chapter Eight
Bridget rounded a corner on her way to the office and stopped short when she almost collided with Harriet. “Good morning.”
Harriet eyed her for a few seconds and exclaimed, “Oh, thank God.”
“What?”
“You don’t have that post-sex thing going on, which means you didn’t lose your mind last night, which also means I can call off the intervention.”
Intervention? While it was true that Bridget neither wanted nor needed the drama and gossip that would surely make its way through the entire lodge at lightning speed, Harriet had crossed a line. Bridget lowered her voice and said, “That is wholly unnecessary, unwelcome, and last but most certainly not least, none of your damn business.” They eyed each other for a few seconds, and then Harriet took her phone out of her pocket. “Please don’t tell me you’re now texting someone about this so-called intervention.”
“Lola. Who else would I call in?”
“I shudder to think.” Bridget headed to the office in the hope of losing Harriet along the way. At some point, they’d need to have a Come to Jesus conversation about all this. Thinking of Jesus reminded her of Kennedy’s prayer last night, and that made her smile. She was so adorable when she tried to flirt and failed.
Failed was a strong word, considering that it had almost worked. Bridget had to resist hard to not put her hand out. She wanted to. Not because she thought they’d make out because that was certainly not going to happen. It was more that she wanted someone to fall asleep with.
Not someone. She wanted to fall asleep with Kennedy. But how did she ask someone who was obviously attracted to her, and her to them, to just cuddle? Oh, and please don’t get turned on. Just…hold me. You know, because it’s cold and stuff. And also because you seem like you’d fit nicely. Yeah. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.
The truth was, Bridget didn’t trust herself to not get turned on either, and she was pretty sure that under Kennedy’s hotel bathrobe, there was nothing but soft sexy curves. She loved the curves on a woman. And she loved to run her fingers over those curves.
She’d done the right thing. But not for Harriet’s sake. And was Harriet still on her tail, furiously texting with Lola? She glanced over her shoulder and said, “You really just need one word written three times. A-B-O-R-T. Lola’s a smart girl. She’ll understand.”
“I’m just letting her know that your dignity is still intact.”
Shocked, Bridget stopped and turned. “My dignity?” She pointed down the hall. “Your office. Now.”
Apparently, that Jesus convo couldn’t wait. Bridget shut the door behind them and folded her arms. “You’ve crossed a line, Harriet. When it comes to my personal life, you need to be a bit more thoughtful before you act.”
Harriet glared at her for a few seconds before she went and stood behind her desk. “You haven’t always been around, Bridge. You don’t know everything your dad put up with.”
“I know enough.”
Harriet raised her hands. “Okay. I’ll stay out of it from now on, but I may have already asked a friend to come up and fix the Fleming’s furnace. Oh, and he’s buying some groceries for her too.” She held up a hand again. “I know what you’re going to say, but he has a big truck with studded snow tires. He’ll be just fine.”
Bridget did her best to hold back her anger. “Can I assume the lodge will be paying for this?”
“It’s in the lodge’s best interests to get Kennedy Fleming back on her own turf. Oh, and Mack is down there right now, plowing their driveway.”
Harriet’s self-satisfied expression indicated she was waiting for a thank you of some sort, but Bridget didn’t feel grateful. Her dad had always handled the Fleming situation and so would she, if Harriet would just stay out of it and stop treating her like a starry-eyed, clueless teenager. “Well, Harriet, I guess you have it all figured out, then. Any chance you told Mack that there’s a suitcase in that snowbank?”
