"Five." She grins, nodding as she rushes away.
As I eat my incredible breakfast, my gaze tracks Bridget's every movement as she works. She's sweet with every customer. Quick to laugh, and make a joke. I love the way she puts a hand on her hip and gives her blonde coworker an earful. Although I can't hear the conversation, they both end up in hysterics. Bridget is also a good worker, hustling to keep everything in order.
She's obviously open to new things if she's taking guitar lessons. She's funny and so sexy that I don't want to leave the restaurant for fear that other men might have the opportunity to look at her.
I've occasionally wondered what I was looking for in a woman, and always came up empty. Now I know. Beautiful, elegant, sweet.
I've been looking for Bridget. She's mine. As sure as the rain is falling. As sure as the coffee mug in my hand.
Bridget is going to be my girl.
2
BRIDGET
My heart is racing a mile a minute and I haven't even had a flipping coffee yet.
When I first saw the truck slow down beside me, I thought it might be one of the Oakley boys, but it was hard to tell through the rain. From a distance, all four brothers look relatively similar.
It's impossible to ignore the way every woman in town goes on and on about them. How they all grew up in Oakton, but moved away for several years for work. How whenever they visit, they spend time with their parents, and mainly keep to themselves.
Many of the women in the café especially talk about Ansel, the oldest and wealthiest, who apparently owns some tech company. Braden is an investment wizard, who's already dating Elise, one of the other waitresses here at Acorns. Nobody speaks much about Corbin, so I've never gathered many details.
But Dash… He certainly seems to be catching everyone's eye this morning.
As I do my rounds, delivering food and refilling coffee, I hear a few whispers from a group of women in their late twenties whokeep stealing glances toward the back corner table. They confirm everything I've heard about Dash. Allegedly a bit of a ladies man.
I notice there are no snide remarks as they make their whispered comments, though. You'd think that if a guy was a womanizer, he'd have a bad reputation. Yet no one seems to judge Dash for being incredibly popular. They're all on board with it.
This still does not explain why he is paying attention to me. If he's used to having women throw themselves at him, then he could easily take his pick of anyone he liked.
Not only does he come from a well-known, well-respected family, he is utterly gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered, with thick brown hair like all the brothers. His eyes are rich cocoa, deep and expressive. But it's his damn cheeky grin that lights up his charmingly handsome face that's the most dangerous thing of all to me.
No. I can't think about that. There must be a reason he was being so friendly. It's not natural for a man who looks like a fitness model to be interested in a girl like me. Sure, lots of men help themselves to a long look at my cleavage, but once they see that my deluxe package also includes wide hips and sturdy legs that will never look quite right in a miniskirt, they move right along.
It's one of the reasons I've started playing guitar: it's an attempt to break out of my shell a bit more, and let people see the real me.
I wait until Dash's mouth is filled with eggs to bring him his check, flash a wide smile, then dart away to deal with the sudden influx of customers now that the rain has stopped for a bit. After I take all of the new orders, Sonya takes over on coffee duty so that I can help Marco for a few minutes. Since he's the only one in the kitchen, we take turns helping out when he's busy.
By the time I get back out front, I'm sad to see that Dash is gone. Sonya pulls me aside and slips a piece of paper into my hands. "He paid for his breakfast and a bunch of muffins, and said that's for you."
"Thanks."
I slip it into the pocket of my apron, agonizing over what it might be until I have a moment to open it. Along with a ten-dollar tip is a note.
Bridget, I can't wait to get to know you better. See you at five, rain or shine.
Well, geez. How the heck am I supposed to concentrate on work now?
Several hours later, I fix my hair, add a tiny bit more smudged brown eyeliner, and go out front to see Dash standing waiting by the door. I might be imagining it, but it feels like all eyes are tracking me as I walk toward him.
"Hi." His smile triggers a warm, seductive tremor through pulse points that are brand new to me. "I think I have a plan to keep you and your guitar dry."
"I do like a man with a plan," I say lightly, wondering how seriously I should take this. He holds the door, positioning us so that I walk very close past him, as if he wants us to touch as much as possible.
I wait under the awning as he pulls his truck right up in front of the door, then jumps out to hold it open for me. My guitar and I flit through less than one second of rain, then I'm safely inside.
Once Dash is back in the truck, he reaches out to give my hand a pat on the seat. "See? Nice and dry. I can't have a relatively new musician showing up soggy and miserable to her lesson."
