than going out. Says he can’t get reservations.’
‘The boy toy?’ Claire asked.
Bridget nodded and flushed at the ribbing about his age and handed her iPhone to Claire, who read the text before handing it back to Bridget.
‘You gonna go?’ she asked around a bit of cookie.
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to be alone with him in his apartment. I don’t really know him that well.’
‘Hon, don’t you think you’re being just a little bit paranoid?’
‘How so?’ Indignation welled in Bridget at Claire’s suggestion. Claire knew her history.
‘If Connor had wanted to hurt you, he had the perfect opportunity to do so when he took you to that manor house. You two were alone out there. It was miles out of town and no one would have been able to help you.’
‘True,’ Mona said. ‘I had all the info on where to find him, but nothing on where you two were going.’ Polishing off the last of her cookies, Mona took Bridget’s hand. ‘I think you need to be honest with yourself here, and stop using Connor as an excuse.’
Bridget pulled her hand away from Mona, snapping, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ she said, leaning back and levelling a calm, caramel gaze on Bridget. ‘You’re scared. But it’s not because you think Connor will hurt you.’
‘What is it then?’ She sounded peevish even to her own ears, but didn’t seem able to rein her irritation in.
‘You like him. I think you like him in a way you haven’t experienced since the attack and now you’re running scared.’
‘That’s so easy for you to say, Mona!’ Bridget’s voice was rising, but all her fear and anxiety was bubbling up. ‘You haven’t had to deal with men treating you like you were diseased just because something happened to you that scarred you. Made it impossible to do certain things.’
Her hands shook as she squeezed the bridge of her nose to fight back the shards of pain spearing her brain. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be sbroken because every moment you’re there trying to be intimate the shadow of your rapist is between you. Making you question your own judgment about not just men but yourself.’
She was shaking at the intensity of her frustration.
‘How can I know for one single moment if my instincts about him are right, when I had no idea what Trent was? I let him into my life. I made it possible for him to rape me. And I never saw it coming. So, how can I trust Connor isn’t the same?’
Claire and Mona both stared at Bridget as the silence stretched. She’d never said anything to them about her difficulties with men. She’d only told them about the rape at the most superficial levels and they’d drawn their own conclusions about her lack of a boyfriend.
Claire was the first to move, followed almost immediately by Mona. Both women enveloped her in a warm hug. Their combined scents of ginger and cocoa butter suffused Bridget even as the warmth of their embrace dispelled some of the chill that had settled in her at her outburst.
Mona pulled back and, grabbing a napkin, began wiping at the tears running down Bridget’s face. She hadn’t even been aware she was crying.
‘Shhh.’ Mona stroked Bridget’s hair and Claire held her hand.
‘Honey,’ Claire said, ‘you’re taking on something that isn’t yours to bear. You couldn’t have known that Trent was going to do that to you.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’d been warned. I didn’t listen. I got raped.’
The urge to confide fully in her friends was strong, but she resisted. She wouldn’t risk that.
‘If you’re not comfortable, then you don’t have to go. It’s really that simple. But I think you need to look deep inside and determine if you’re just running scared.’
That was the second time someone had used that phrase with her and she didn’t like it. Bridget didn’t consider herself a coward. Avoiding a situation that put you in a dangerous position was not cowardice, it was prudence. Blaming someone else for your own weakness, though –
That thought stopped her up short. She was blaming Connor.
Dang it. She
‘I’m going. But I’m forwarding this text to both of you so you know where he lives.’
‘No worries, babe.’ Claire smiled around her last cookie.
‘Fine by me,’ Mona said.
After sending them the text, she answered Connor and told him she’d be there. Her heart raced, but she was determined to be fair. If she couldn’t control herself she’d just stop seeing him.
Decision made, she gathered up her stuff. ‘All right, you two. I’m heading home.’
She kissed both women on the cheek and headed out into the afternoon sun, praying she wasn’t making a mistake.
Connor’s loft was in the old industrial section of town that had been converted into an arty, urban residential area when the garment factories closed down. Now, where once looms and sewing machines had chugged away, up-and-coming professionals lived their lives and pursued the American dream.
Connor’s loft was in the same building that Claire had lived in before she married Evan. In a larger town, that coincidence would have been startling. In River Rock, not so much. It was a small town and people tended to trip over one another all the time.
That she’d been in this building countless times was doing absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves. She jangled from head to toe. The implications of coming to Connor’s home were not lost on her. She was walking into an unknown situation with a man she didn’t know that well.
Her fingers began to tingle and a rushing began in her head. She rested a hand on the wall next to Connor’s door and waited out the dizzy spell. The last time she’d walked into a relative stranger’s place of residence she’d been raped. Normally, she spent long weeks, sometimes months before she allowed herself this level of isolation with a man.
Why she was here was beyond her at this moment. Her heart said he could be trusted. Her head told her to run the other way as fast as she could. Her head had led her to a lonely life with no one but her dog to keep her company at night and a soul that cried out for connection. Her heart wanted more.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.
And waited.
She knocked again.
And waited some more.
She knocked harder. He had until she counted to ten and then she was out of there.
The door was yanked open to reveal a breathless Connor dressed only in a towel. His hair was wet and dripping. Trails of water ran down a broad chest that wasn’t overly sculpted but was nicely muscled. He had a treasure trail of dark hair that her eye followed until it dipped down into the towel. His hips were lean and his legs were tight and hard.
She flushed as she realised she was staring and yanked her eyes upward. Smoky grey eyes twinkled with laughter.
‘Come on in.’ He stepped back and waved her in. ‘I’m running a bit late, as you can tell.’
Bridget stepped into the loft and turned, not quite sure what to do. Lotus, Connor’s Ridgeback, trotted over to her and began the traditional canine ritual of sniffing the new arrival. Seemingly satisfied, she bumped Bridget’s hand in an “OK-you-can-pet-me-now” demand and Bridget smiled at the cinnamon-coloured dog before kneeling and scratching her ears. Daisy had that same imperious attitude and that bit of familiarity set her at ease.
‘Listen, let me throw some clothes on. I think Lotus has you covered –’ he ran a hand through his hair ‘– but go ahead and make yourself at home, OK?’ He sauntered off toward his sleeping area and grabbed some clothes that were laid out on the bed before heading into the bathroom.
While he dressed, Bridget took the opportunity to look around. His loft was completely open with no walls. His kitchen was modest with brightly painted cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The smell of marinara and
