Page 25 of When We Burn

“I’m not going to tell you that I don’t want to see more of you.”

He blows out a breath, as if he’s immensely relieved.

“Just no big displays of affection at my job, okay?”

“I can do that.” He nods and releases me long enough to flip the patties. “You know, I still haven’t kissed you.”

“You just kissed my hand.”

“I haven’t nibbled on those plump lips or tasted your mouth. I haven’t gripped your hair while I kiss the hell out of you. I haven’t heard the noises you make or felt you shiver in my hands.”

Cue the wet panties.

Bridger is a dirty talker. Holy crap, who knew? Not me. I might have fought harder back in the day if I had.

Who am I kidding? No, I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have known what to do with him, and my shyness would have gotten the best of me.

I’m not feeling shy now.

He slips cheese on the patties and closes the lid, then looks my way. He’s not touching me at all, but his words are imprinted on my skin, and I have goose bumps all over my body.

“Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’ll forget that my daughter is ten yards away and wide awake.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me.” It’s such a simple statement, but holds so much weight. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and then swears under his breath as he pulls the patties off the grill and turns it off. “Come on, trouble, let’s go eat.”Trouble.If anyone is trouble here it’s this sexy-as-heck man in front of me.

“In case I haven’t made myself crystal clear, I think you’re gorgeous, and I plan to spend a lot more time with you. The timing was never right before. You were too young for me, and then when you weren’t, you were gone. The time is right now, and I’m not stupid enough to walk away from you.”

From what my friends suggested, other guys flirted with me during college, but I never took them seriously. Too much baggage to believe them, and when I did participate in flirting, and tried to date or have arelationship, it was sorely lacking. But this is Bridger, and I know and trust him. I always have. He’s definitely given me something to think about. After dinner.Or maybe tomorrow.

Thankfully, Birdie’s infectious laugh and hearing her tell stories from her day diffuses the sexual tension between us, and we settle into a nice dinner. The burgers are delicious, and after we’ve eaten the brownies, the two of them escort me back to my house so Birdie can look in on Pickles.

“Thanks for dinner,” I murmur. We’re standing on the porch, and Birdie’s inside, playing with the cat. “I had a really nice time with both of you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you came over.” He takes a tiny step toward me and skims his fingertips down my cheek. “God, you’re soft.”

Feeling brave, I brace my hands on his hips, just over his waistband and under his shirt, feeling his skin.

“And you’re warm.”

His eyes sharpen and fall to my lips, and I lick them in anticipation. Just as he’s lowering his face to mine, the door flings open, and Birdie’s crying.

“Shit,” Bridger mutters and turns to his daughter. “What’s wrong, peanut?”

“Pickles scratched me.” She holds her arm up, and there’s a tiny pink line on her forearm. “I just pinched her back foot a little so I could look at her toe beans.”

“You don’t pinch anyone’s anything,” Bridger says with a sigh. “You’re fine, but we’ll go give it a wash. Tell Miss Danigood night.”

She knuckles the tears in her eyes and scowls. “Good night.”

“’Night, sweetie.”

Bridger picks her up, and she leans her head on his shoulder. She’s tired. But before he walks away, he leans down and kisses my forehead.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“You, too.”

---