Page 33 of Booked for the Holidays
I take a seat and let others dictate the direction of our conversation. We talk abouteverything; honest, candid discussion with no judgment, only questions. We share the books buried deep in the trenches of our Kindle libraries. There’s frantic note-taking. Blushing cheeks and energetic laughter, too. Acceptance and reassurance blossom in the room. Many discover for the first time other women who like the same things they do.
Sex shouldn’t be a divisive topic. We shouldn’t be ashamed of the books we read, the positions we like, or the names we want to be called in bed. We’re allowed to be loyal partners and attentive mothers, hard-working business owners, teachers or lawyersandbe vocal about what satisfies us. You don’t have to pick and choose.
“Bridget! You’re up!” Lucy calls from across the room, tossing her red hair over her shoulder.
I clamber to my feet. “Hi, I’m Bridget. Through reading I’ve discovered I really enjoy being told what to do in the bedroom, and then praised when I do it correctly. I think it’s because I’m so used to being in control during my day-to-day life, and it’s refreshing to just let go and give the control to someone else. The book I brought has public touching, a grand gesture and sweet, tender moments. I reached out to the author on social media, and she sent me a few signed copies. They'll be at the register if anyone wants to purchase one. Alright, Chan. You’re up.”
“Hell, yeah,” she exclaims and jumps to her feet. “I can’t wait to talk about how I think I’d like to call someone dad–”
“Evening ladies.”
My jaw nearly drops to the floor when I spot the man walking through the front door. “Jamie?” I sputter.
“Hey, Bridget.” The deputy mayor shifts to his right, revealing a very pissed off Theo.
“Crap,” I mutter. “I’m in trouble.”
THIRTEEN
BRIDGET
I stopat Chandler’s chair on my way to be scolded.
“Can you turn the video off and keep everyone occupied?”
“While you take your punishment?” She winks. “I just did. It’s a shame. The comments were gold. We should have kept it rolling.”
“What do you mean?”
“They asked who the ‘tall, hot guy without a tie who barged through the door’ is. Talking about Theo, obviously. What else? Oh! ‘He looks like a daddy.’ ‘He’s definitely an ass guy.’ ‘Those tattoos would look great around my neck.’ ‘Big dick energy.’ Just a sampling.”
My chest tightens and my pulse slows as I listen to the flirty messages aimed at Theo read aloud, broadcast to the world for all to hear. Protectiveness, I imagine, clouds my vision, turning everything hazy and blurry. It’s like… I don’t want the world to see him and I only want to keep him for myself. Which is preposterous, I know, because there’s no claim on him. He’s notmineto defend. There’s still a surge of something… possessive as I approach the man with a murderous glint in his eye.
“You’re being too loud,” Theo says in lieu of a greeting.
“Loud?” I ask. “What are you talking about? We’re hardly shouting.”
“I can hear you through the walls. Can’t you save this for a Saturday night at your house? Not somewhere I’ll be subjected to it?”
“Let me get this straight. You heard us talking about sex toys at a slightly raised volume, and you decided to call in reinforcements?”
“If I have to hear one more word about a damn vibrator, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Sounds like someone needs more than a vibrator to relax,” I say under my breath.
His eyes flash at my joke, warning me to tread carefully. I kind of like prodding him, though. I wonder how far he’d let me go.
“I’m trying to do accounting work and I have a massive headache you’re contributing to,” he says.
“You’re doing work this late? Don’t you have someone who can help handle that kind of stuff?”
“No. I get to handle all the stuff. It’s due tomorrow, and I’ve been distracted for two hours.”
I’m about to apologize. Already, the letters ofI’m sorryare forming on my lips. It’s unavoidable the longer I look at him. He’s dead on his feet. Dark circles underline his eyes, stark against the paleness of his cheeks. Stubble lines his jaw, brown mixed with a hint of light gray, and his shoulders curve inward defeatedly.
The ambiguous statement, the part about him handling everything by himself, snares my attention. It’s another untold story of his. One I want to know. One I want to ask about. Theo’s a complex riddle made up of many pieces, and this is one I can’t crack.
“Theo. Bridget. If I may.” Jamie bravely interposes himself, playing referee. “The curfew just now went into effect. Technically, Bridget hasn’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason to give her a citation for a noise complaint.”
