1. Bridget

ONE

Bridget

Chateau Rogue looks about as busy as it always does as I drive down Broadway Avenue into the center of Red Lodge, which is, of course, not busy. And it's a weekend.

It's not the most popular of the lodges in the area, though, and with summer in full swing, I know that tourists will be looking for places closer to the trails to set up shop.

I keep driving down the road into town, my heart growing heavier with every foot of travel.

You shouldn't be here, Bridget. This is too risky.

Still, I know that I didn't have much choice. When your brother calls saying, "Mom is sick," you go.

There's not much in the way of traffic right now, so as I pass by Bear Creek Hill, I do the usual look-see for cars and then pass through.

There's a new, or at least updated, gas station to my left, and as I pass by the Sinclair, I hear the roaring sound of a truck engine giving her hell.

Just when I'm going to look behind me toward the sound, the truck barrels out of the gas station exit and rams right into the back of my little car.

My tires screech as the force shoves me forward into the guard rail at my right. A tall, thin tree covered in new buds is a few feet past the rail, and for a moment, I feel relief that the town saw fit to put the metal protection in place.

That is, until the thing groans and splits open with the force behind my car and I crash into the thin trunk.

I slam forward, greeted with instant whiplash as my airbag goes off. Pain roars through my shoulders as the seat belt and bag do their job, keeping me from smashing into the steering wheel.

Then everything stops.

What the fuck just…umm…okay…

I have to tell myself to stop gripping the wheel, and when I do, I shut off the engine which is hissing. In my rearview mirror, I can see the truck that rear-ended me pushed up into the back of my car.

It didn't make it past the trunk, thank God. Struggling, I reach down for my seat belt to undo it.

About a million years later, I manage to get the thing to release it's grip on me and fumble with the door to get out of the useless car.

It's definitely going to need a tow, but I feel okay. Hopefully, I can get out of this without having to call the cops.

You're not going to press charges, so…

But as I stumble out onto the road, making sure I'm not about to be hit by another car, I see the driver of the truck looking down at my bumper with his cell pressed to his ear.

Dammit.

He sees me and walks over. It takes everything in me not to beg him to hang up.

"I've called the station. They're sending someone out. Firetruck, too."

My eyes flare wide. "What? Why?"

The other driver, who looks particularly inconvenienced for being the reason this all happened, points toward the front of my car.

I don't see what he's gesturing to at first, but then, when I bend down a bit, I can see the liquid dripping down steadily from under my engine.

"Umm, right. That's probably not good."

Grumpy Truck Asshole, as I will now be referring to him, chews on his cheek, pumping his eyebrows at me.

"You got insurance?"

My jaw falls open slightly. "You hit me. I should be asking you that."

He scoffs, and then we both turn to look up the road toward the sound of sirens. I hate this day.

The police and firetruck arriving pause our conversation, and I try to stay clear of the firetruck as it angles toward the front of my destroyed car.

After a few seconds, the cop who arrives on the scene blocks off the road around our accident and walks over to us.

"All right, who would be the owner of the sedan?" The man cocks a brow, and I step forward.

"That would be me. This lovely citizen hit me while he was tearing out of the gas station."

Grumpy Truck Asshole practically growls, and the cop walks me farther away toward the side of the road a few feet away from my car.

"I'll be getting your information, Boone, in just a moment. Don't go nowhere." The officer calls over his shoulder, and then he turns back to me. "All right, miss. I'm Officer Hogan. Gonna have the fireman there take a look at things. Can you tell me your name and what happened?"

"I'm Bridget Monroe. I just got back into town, and I was trying to get to my mother's house. Mrs. Beverly Monroe. I was driving down the road here into town when I heard a loud truck revving, and just as I was passing by the exit, that truck came flying out of the place. He hit the back corner of my car and shoved me through the guard rail into that tree."

I pointed, noticing the firefighter doing something around my engine.

"Welcome back to town, Bridget. I'm sure your mother is looking forward to seeing you. Well, we'll have your car looked at and a tow called."

Sighing, I relax a bit, even if everything about this is too public and too fresh. "Thank you."

Officer Hogan nods, leaving me parked a bit away from my sedan while he goes to speak to Boone. I can't hear much of their conversation, but I can see that Hogan is already agitated, and Boone looks downright livid.

After a second, Hogan raises his voice enough that I hear him say, "I can smell it coming off you from here."

I bite back a laugh. I didn't get close enough to Boone to notice, but I'm not surprised to hear that the guy who rear-ended me was under the influence. It's the only thing that explains how he didn't see me in front of him.

Clang!

I shoot my attention to my car in time to see another thick piece of metal from inside the engine area tumble to the ground. My ride is utterly fucked, and I sigh all the harder.

I do not have time for this.

Some type of compound has been sprayed in my engine block, however, and there's nothing dripping from the bottom anymore.

As the hood is shut with a slam, I watch the fireman currently dealing with my nearly-explosive vehicle. His head of dark hair comes into view as he takes his protective helmet off, and I catch the sight of deep gray eyes that catch the light.

I'm a decent distance from the man, but my heart skids to a stop. I'd recognize him anywhere.

"Mason?" I mumble, my mind restarting only to go haywire.

I'm frozen in place, staring at the guy as he tends to my car, and then his eyes flick over to mine.

Oh, shit. No, no, no.

I look away, but it's no use. Mason caught me staring, and now he's walking over to where I stand. My heart is in my throat, pounding away like it's actively trying to give me a coronary.

"Hello, miss. I assume this is your vehicle. I'm Mason. I volunteer as a firefighter, and I have to say, in my professional opinion, your sedan is fucked."

The tension is too great to laugh, and then I force myself to look up at him. Our eyes meet, and Mason's casual smile flickers.

"Bridget?"

Jesus, he didn't know it was me.

I can hardly blame him, however. I've always had long blonde hair, but now, it's chocolate brown and cut right to my shoulders.

"Hi, Mason." I smile with my lips curled between my teeth. "Umm, yeah. The car is most definitely fucked."

He only looks over at it for a second before meeting my stare again. Mason blinks before visibly shaking himself into focus.

"I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you from over there. You, umm, you cut your hair. And it's?—"

"Brown. Yeah."

He nods. "Hmm, can't change those eyes, though, can you? I'd know those stormy blues from anywhere."

Mason laughs half-heartedly, and I find myself fiddling with the rings on my fingers.

The seconds drag, and I see Officer Hogan load Boone into the back of his squad car out of the corner of my eye.

Shit. Is he arresting the guy?

"Well, the tow should be here soon. We'll get your car loaded."

I nod at him, expecting Mason to give me some type of "Go here to get your car" or even a "How've you been?"

But that's it. That's all Mason gives me.

"Right." I nod again, having no clue what else to do. "I guess, thank you."

"It's the job, Bridget. I'm just doing what I signed up for."

He holds my stare without flinching. Mason seems as cool as ever, and I'm sitting here having a panic attack because the guy I was almost in love with five years ago is standing right in front of me.

Jai is my past, and so was Mason. But I was hoping to have at least a few minutes in town before I ran into him.

So much for that.

"I'm going to talk with Officer Hogan. Stay here."

"Okay." I just wobble my head in a pathetic excuse for a nod again, crumpling into myself.

Mason walks off, and I can see him chatting with Hogan, probably about getting the cars out of here if the hand gestures are anything to go by.

My heart still feels tight, and my stare roams over Mason's form in the firefighter's uniform. I had no idea he'd be doing that, but it fits.

Mason was always about lending a helping hand. I sag even further.

You are being ridiculous, Bridget. Come on. You knew he was here. And all that stuff between you is in the past.

internal monologue does its best to convince me to get over this, but I'm still…disappointed.

I look like an idiot with my car all smushed, and a secret part of me was hoping to make some type of impression on Mason when we finally ran into each other.

Because I've never stopped thinking about him—or the day I left.

After a few more minutes, I see a tow truck coming up the road, and I have to assume that we're basically done here.

Mason says something to the driver as Officer Hogan drives off with Boone in the backseat. He points in my direction, and I stiffen, standing up straighter.

But when Mason starts walking over, my phone rings.

"Shit." I pull it out of my jeans pocket and check who's calling. "Oh, right. Hudson."

Answering the call, I try to keep my voice low. I don't want Mason to hear me. "Hey, bro."

"Hey, are you almost here? We expected you like forty minutes ago."

I sigh, my eyes closing as I release a heavy breath. "Yeah, I'm almost there. I…umm. I ran into some trouble. But it's fine. I'll be there in a few minutes. Okay?"

"Trouble? What are you talking about?" I can hear the concern in Hudson's voice, and I hate it. "Do you need me to?—"

"Nope. It's fine. I'm leaving now. See you in a few."

I hang up before he can ask more questions and stuff my phone back in my pocket.

At that point, Mason comes over. I meet his eyes with a forced smile and raise my brows to silently ask, "What's up?"

"The tow truck is ready to take your car into town. The repair shop is closed for the evening, but it'll open tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. All right." I fumble with myself, checking my pockets and realizing I don't have my wallet because it's still in the car. "I need my stuff."

He gestures toward my car, and I head that way to get my wallet out. It's impossible to get into the car, though, and I can't reach my shit on the passenger side from the driver's door.

"Dammit."

Suddenly, Mason is behind me, and he nods toward the car. "Here, let me."

I step back, and Mason wrenches the door farther open, his biceps likely straining, and then reaches inside for my little clutch.

He slides back out—and I definitely have to stop myself from checking out his ass—handing me the wallet with an easy smile.

"Here you go. Do you have anything else in there that you need?"

The question jogs my memory, and I point toward the back seat. "My suitcase?"

Mason gets it out through the front, handing it over to me with another smile that reads, "You're welcome."

I smile tightly, looking down at it. "Thank you. I guess…I'll be going."

Starting toward the tow truck to get a ride, I realize that the car still isn't loaded up onto the back, so I'll be waiting for a while before we leave. Shit .

"Are you going to your Mom's?"

I shoot my eyes over to Mason. "Yeah. Umm…they're waiting for me. Didn't think I was going to get rear-ended."

"The tow's going to be another fifteen minutes at least. I'll take you over after I drop the firetruck off at the station. Come on."

It's a nice offer. Something that he'd do for anyone, but my spine tingles at the notion of being in a car alone with Mason.

I feel like a dumb teenager again, and the part of me that had been wondering about Mason lights up—both terrified and intrigued.

But I really can't keep Hudson and Mom waiting.

"Umm, okay. Thank you." I smile a little bit more genuinely now. "Again."