Machine by Normandie Alleman
4
Dynassy
I swallowed then turnedto Marla. “I can get a ride with him.”
Marla widened her eyes as if to say are you sure? This guy could be a crazy person.
“It’s okay. I know him.”
“Alright,” Marla said before walking away.
It was true enough. Sal wouldn’t hire a serial killer to work for him.
“So, I’m not a stranger?” Bridger teased.
When he held me in his arms like that, the last thing he felt like was a stranger.
“No,” I managed shyly. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was around him. He and I came from different worlds, but there was something about his embrace that made me feel like it was the safest place in the world. I suspected those big strong arms that just pulled me around the dance floor could also protect me and take care of me better than any man I’d ever met.
“Want to dance some more?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded enthusiastically.
We whirled across the floor, his hand on the small of my back guiding me, my hand on the back of his neck feeling the pulse of his muscles underneath my fingers. He smelled better than I would have dreamed, a combination of sandalwood and leather that awakened a sense of longing between my legs and made me imagine kissing his earlobe.
But before I could summon the courage to do it, the band stopped playing, and Bridger grabbed my hand. “Ready?”
I was ready for anything he wanted, so I mumbled, “Sure.”
He walked me to the parking lot and stood me next to an old gray pickup truck. That didn’t surprise me, but when he opened the passenger door to the eggplant-colored Dodge Viper next to it, I was caught off guard.
“I thought—” I started, but then tried to stop myself before I said something stupid, or worse, insulting.
He chuckled. “That the pickup was mine?”
I kept my mouth shut, but I smiled.
“I get it.” Then he mumbled something about an inheritance and got behind the wheel.
So, the mechanic, who’d been wounded in combat and was a SEAL no less, was also an heir of some sort. The better I got to know Bridger, the more I realized he was much more complicated than I’d originally thought. There was a lot more to him than that deliciously curly brown hair and those piercing green eyes.
“Alright, Dynassy. Where do you live?”
“Oh, I’m staying at my mom’s in Beverly Hills. I hope that’s not too far.”
“No problem.” We settled in for the drive, and my body was completely tuned to his. Every move his hand made to shift the gears, I imagined his fingers moving up and down my back. I didn’t miss anything—not his full lips as he talked, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, or the tensing and relaxing of his biceps as he turned the wheel of the car.
Often, when I spent time with people who were not in the entertainment industry, there was an awkwardness. That was completely lacking with Bridger. Being around him was as easy as if we’d known each other all our lives. And in some ways, I thought that was the key.
My brother Nick had recently had a baby—two actually, twins—with my friend Eden, who we had known all our lives. He and Eden had spent most of their childhood around each other. We’d all been best friends and in the past year, they had reconnected, hence the resulting twins. But whenever I was around them, I realized how in love they were, and that love was based on the sort of friendship that had lasted years.
It was as inspiring as it was depressing.
There was no one in my life that I had known since childhood who might become a romantic partner. No childhood crushes or long-lost boyfriends to reconnect with.
But maybe you could find something like that with someone who made you feel the way Bridger made me feel. It was, after all, pretty magical.
My mother’s voice entered my head, reminding me that I needed to be focused on getting my career back on track. The last thing I needed was something else to complicate my life and distract me.
Always one to talk back to my mother, I had an idea.
Having a man who was also a veteran. What could be a better way to make America think I was sensitive to veterans’ issues than to be dating a former SEAL who’d been injured in the war?
“So tell me what it’s like to be a veteran, to be a SEAL?”
“Well, war is hell. I’m sure you’ve heard that before, and it’s true. I’m proud of my service, but there’s a lot of baggage that comes with it. A lot of shit you can’t unsee.”
That wasn’t very much information. I waited for him to say something else. But before I could ask him more questions, he said, “Tell me about being a model.”
“Well, modeling is certainly not hell, but it is harder than people think. But when you tell people that, it’s kind of like bitching about being too rich—they want to slap you.”
Bridger laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling into tight little wrinkles. His laughter made me all warm inside, so I kept going.
“The travel is nice, and the clothes, but it’s tiring, the sort of schedule I usually keep is kinda grueling.”
“Yeah. Sometimes we’re our own worst enemy, us workaholics, huh?”
“What makes you think I’m a workaholic?”
He raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”
I thought about it for a moment. I guess everyone in the Barnes family was a workaholic. I don’t think we know anything else. We Barnes kids had worked since we were children, and the way our mother drove our careers, I didn’t see us slowing down anytime soon. The only ones of us who might not want to work as hard were the twins. My brother Leo was more of a musician at heart than a performer. I think he would’ve enjoyed more time to sit around and create music, while Ivy was more free-spirited, and I could see her wanting to just have more time to herself to do the weird, adorable projects she was always coming up with. In fact, the twins had set their foot down, and Ivy had insisted on having the summer off so that she could stay with Nick and Eden to help with the little Junior twins, as she called them.
“I guess you’re right.”
“I thought so. You don’t see somebody plastered all over the magazines as much as I’ve seen you without them working their butts off.”
It was my turn to smile. So Bridger had seen me before, but he wasn’t treating me any differently than any other girl. Hopefully a girl he liked.
“I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Not at all. Go for it.” This guy could ask me anything he wanted.
“Where’d you get the name ‘Dynassy’? I’ve never heard that one before.”
I rolled my eyes. “No one’s heard it before. Because my mother made it up.”
“No kidding?”
“No. She wanted to name me ‘Dynasty’ but she was afraid the kids at school would shorten it and nickname me ‘Nasty’ so she changed it to Dynassy. My mom’s a nut.”
“I think it’s pretty,” he said with a smile then went back to focusing on the road.
“Thanks.” I hoped he thought I was pretty, but he hadn’t said anything…
When he pulled into my mother’s driveway, he stopped the car and came around to open the door for me. I extended a hand so he could help me out of the low car seat. He took me by both hands and pulled me up, and set me on my feet. Then we walked to the front door.
When we got there, I shut my eyes and waited for the feel of his lips on mine.
But instead, he said, “You are one gorgeous woman.”
Usually when people told me I was beautiful I knew they meant on the surface, but there was something about the way he said it, the tone in his voice, that made me open my eyes. I saw an earnestness there that I hadn’t seen before. Could it be that this guy really saw me, not just the superstar?
“Thank you,” I croaked. “So are you.”
He winked at me—the sexiest wink I’ve ever seen in my life—then he kissed me on the top of my forehead and walked back to his car.
What? He was leaving? Without even kissing me?
Disappointment coursed through my veins. And even though I knew I shouldn’t, I called out to him, “Bridger. You can come in if you like. You can stay.” The minute those words were out of my lips, I knew how desperate they sounded, and I felt humiliated that I’d been so forward.
But I couldn’t help myself.
He glanced over his shoulder and simply said, “I’ve got to go,” and got in his car.
And with that he drove off, leaving me standing in the driveway, feeling like the biggest fool ever.
