(Men In Blue, #7) Bridger's Last Stand by Linda Winstead Jones

Author:Linda Winstead Jones [Jones, Linda Winstead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 10

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Bridger kept his eyes on the road, so Frannie felt free to study his profile and give the view the full attention it deserved.

He looked as if his second night on the couch had been as restless as her nearly sleepless night in her own bed. His eyes were slightly squinted, as if the day were bright and sunny instead of gray and overcast, and his mouth was set in what might have passed for a small frown. It was a face set in granite, harsh and uncompromising.

"What are you staring at?" he growled without taking his eyes from the road.

Frannie was embarrassed to be caught watching so blatantly. There had to be an excuse. She reached out and plucked at the sleeve of his green knit shirt. "I didn't mean to stare. It's just that until this morning I thought maybe you'd been born in a suit and tie." The jeans and knit shirt looked good on him. If only he'd lose the gun.

"I don't remember," he said dryly. "You'll have to ask my mother."

Frannie leaned her head back. "A clan of Bridgers," she said dreamily. "I can see it now. Target practice in the backyard for the men. Glum-faced women in the kitchen. Lots of coffee and Jack Daniel's and—" She smiled, remembering his mild protest that he didn't dance, ever, even though he'd danced with her beautifully. "No dancing."

She peeked out of the corner of her eye to see that he smiled. Better, much better. "So," she said softly, "how right am I?"

"You couldn't be more wrong. First of all, it isn't a clan of Bridgers. I'm the only one. My father died when I was twelve, and while I was in college my mother remarried. Tim had this peach farm then, and three kids of his own. My four sisters, all younger, have married and are reproducing as if the fate of the world rests on their fertile shoulders."

"You have four sisters?" There had been so many days she'd prayed for one. Unfortunately, complications of her own birth left her mother unable to have more children. In truth it was just as well. Lois couldn't have handled more than a single child; there had been times when that one was too much for her.

"Yep, and three stepbrothers I don't know very well. I just see them a couple times a year, at Christmas and this annual spring get-together." He was silent for a few moments. "You were right about the dancing, though, unless you catch my sisters dancing in the kitchen while they wash dishes."

Frannie glanced out her window. The skies were filled with fat, gray clouds, and had been all morning. "I hope it doesn't rain."

"It won't," Bridger sighed. He'd assured her of that earlier, as she'd taken her raincoat from the hall closet.

"How can you be so sure?" She glanced at the dark gray all-weather coat that was lying on the backseat. Of course she hadn't listened to his assurances.

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