Bridgette said. ‘I think.’
‘You think.’ Some things he could not ignore. ‘Bridgette, you seem to be taking on an awful lot.’
‘Well, she’s my sister,’ Bridgette said, ‘and she’s looking for flats and daycare. It’s better that she has a few days to sort it out herself rather than dragging Harry around with her.’
‘Fair enough.’
And he didn’t run for the hills.
Instead he gave her a very nice kiss, and then reached in for another, a kiss that was so nice it made her want to cry.
‘Have breakfast,’ she said to his kiss, trying to think what was in the fridge.
And he was about to say no, that he had to go to work in an hour and all that.
Except he said yes.
He thought of the frothy latte he’d normally be sipping right now.
Instead he watched Bridgette’s bottom wiggle as she made pancakes because she didn’t have bread.
Watched as she shook some icing sugar over them.
How could you not have bread? she screamed inside.
Or bacon, or fresh tomatoes. She had thrown on her nursing apron—it had two straps with buttons and big pockets in the front. She had ten of them and they were brilliant for cooking—so the fat didn’t splat—but she was naked beneath.
‘We should be sitting at a table outside a café—’ she smiled as he watched her ‘—or at the window, watching the barista froth our lovely coffees.’
She must have read his mind.
As she brought over two plates of pancakes, where Bridgette was concerned, he crossed the line. ‘How long ago did you break up with Paul?’
‘Excuse me?’ She gave him a very odd look as she came over with breakfast. ‘I don’t remember discussing him with you.’
‘You didn’t.’ He gave a half-shrug. ‘You really don’t discuss yourself with me at all, so I’ve had to resort to other means.’ He saw the purse of her lips. ‘I didn’t just happen across it—I asked Vince for your e-mail address. Guys do talk.’ He saw her raise her eyebrows. ‘He said there had been a messy break-up, that was all he knew.’
‘Well, it wasn’t very messy for me.’ Bridgette shrugged. ‘It might have been a bit messy for him because he suddenly had to find somewhere to live.’ She shook her head. She wasn’t going there with him. ‘It’s a long story…’
‘Short version,’ Dominic said.
‘We were together two years,’ Bridgette said. ‘Great for one of them, great till my sister got depressed and moved in and suddenly there was a baby with colic and…’ She gave a tight shrug. ‘You get the picture. Anyway, by the time Harry turned one we were over.’ She had given the short version, but she did ponder just a little. ‘He felt the place had been invaded, that I was never able to go out.’ She looked over at him. ‘Funny, I’d have understood if it had been his flat.’ She gave Dominic a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. He could see the hurt deep in them and knew better than to push.
‘I’ll see you at work on Monday,’ she said as she saw him to the door.
‘I’m still here for a while,’ Dominic said.
‘And then you won’t be…’
‘It doesn’t mean we can’t have a nice time.’ If it sounded selfish, it wasn’t entirely. He wanted to take her out, wanted to know her some more, wanted to spoil her perhaps.
‘Like a holiday romance?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Hardly. I’m working sixty-plus hours a week,’ he said to soften his offering, because, yes, a brief romance was the most he could ever commit to. But she hadn’t said it with sarcasm. Instead she smiled, because a holiday romance sounded more doable. She certainly wasn’t about to let go of her heart and definitely not to a man like him. A holiday romance maybe she could handle.
‘I won’t always be able to come out…I mean…’ Bridgette warned.
‘Let’s just see.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Who knows, maybe your sister will get that job, after all, and move up to Bendigo.’
And you should be very careful what you wish for, Dominic soon realised, because a few days later Courtney did.
AT FIRST it was great. Out had come the silver dress, and he had taught her the flamenco—not that he knew how, but they’d had fun working it out.
In fact, with Courtney and Harry away, it had been Dominic who had found himself the one with scheduling problems.
‘I’ll get back to you within the hour.’ There was a small curse of frustration as Dominic put down the phone and pulled out his laptop.
‘Problem?’ Bridgette asked.
‘Mark Evans wants me to cover him till eleven a.m. I’m supposed to be picking up Chris from the airport then.’ He pulled the airline page up. Chris had been missing his brother, and with Dominic unable to get away for a while, a compromise had been reached and Chris was coming down to Melbourne for the night. ‘I’d say no to Mark except he’s done me a lot of favours. I’ll see if I can change his flight.’
‘You could just ask me,’ Bridgette said, unable to see the problem. ‘Surely if Chris can fly on his own, he won’t mind being met by a friend of his brother’s.’
‘You sure?’
‘It’s no big deal.’
To Dominic it was a big deal. Arabella would, he realised, have simply had Chris change his flight, which was maybe a bit unfair on her, because Arabella would have been at work too. Bridgette was, after all, not starting till later. ‘What if the flight’s delayed? It doesn’t leave you much time to get to your shift as it is…’
‘Then I’ll ring work and explain that I’m delayed. What?’ She misread his curious expression. ‘You don’t think I’d just leave him stranded?’
Chris’s flight wasn’t delayed. In fact, it landed a full ten minutes early and he had hand luggage only, which left plenty of time for a drink and something to eat at an airport café before she started her late shift. He told her all about his first time flying alone and then they drove back to Dominic’s, getting there just as he arrived. There was no denying that the two brothers were pleased to see each other. ‘Come over tonight if you want,’ Dominic said, ‘after your shift. We’re just seeing an early movie so we could go out for something to eat if you like?’
‘I’ll give it a miss, thanks,’ Bridgette said. ‘I don’t want to spoil your party and anyway I’m on an early shift tomorrow.’ And he
