Page 29 of Same Rogue
Bridger hadn’t texted her back.
Kit had checked her phone thirty times at least over that shift. She’d pulled in good pay for the night, over three-hundred dollars, and that was good for a random Sunday night. This town was growing on her, and not just for its location far away from the McIver Pack, but the people here were different than in her hometown. They were generous, and friendly with werewolves for the most part. At least what she’d seen at The Mark. She liked her boss there, and truth be told, she liked the idea of running into Bridger from time to time in town.
Clearly, they weren’t anything.
He’d left her on read.
All. Night.
She was done. She’d stayed awake all night, again, and taken stock of how much this entire situation had affected her. She’d gone into the matchmaking with the best intentions. She’d done everything just as her matchmaker, Lauren, had advised. She’d gone all in. She’d moved her entire life around for the chance at happiness, and it hadn’t panned out.
She felt so stupid. So silly.
She had called Lauren and explained her side of things and how it had felt. Lauren had already talked to the Real Bridger, so she was understanding of the situation immediately. She was already putting together a plan to keep this from happening to anyone else in the future. There would be more hoops to jump through for the couples in order to enter into an arranged pairing contract.
She’d apologized so many times, but it wasn’t Lauren’s fault. It wasn’t Bridger’s either. It was Kit’s for putting her faithin anything. Nothing had ever just worked out for her. What on earth had made her think this would be any different?
Back to the drawing board.
She zipped up her duffel bag and looked around the hotel room. Her mistake had been in losing herself with Bridger. She’d lost her mind and let him touch not only her body, but her soul. She could feel it. The wolf could feel it. He was special, and that would make it harder to separate her heart from him. If he’d just remained the asshole she’d met at his house, she could’ve already been back in Alabama and chocking this all up to a mistake. But now her heart was involved. Her body would probably always crave his.
This sucked.
She pushed open the hotel door and pulled off the ‘privacy please’ sign she’d left hanging on the door handle, so housekeeping would know she had checked out of here.
She let the door click closed behind her and made her way to the elevator.
The ding of each floor as she traveled down that elevator shaft was such an echoing, lonely sound. She really liked Coeur d’Alene. Her feelings about this place would always be so mixed when she remembered it. She felt like there would always be a sense of longing, and unfinished business here.
Ding. The elevator landed on the bottom floor and the doors opened. She smiled at a mom and young child combo that were getting in. They were chattering away, both dressed in swimsuits. They must’ve been headed back to their room after some fun at the pool. Idaho sure was beautiful in the summer.
She adjusted her duffel bag on her shoulder and aimed for her car.
A familiar truck was parked there. Kit froze.
Bridger stood leaning against his tailgate, gold eyes on her. Beside him was an official looking woman in a pantsuit, holding a folder. The notary, she would guess.
Kit inhaled deeply, trying to work her way through the rush of emotions that consumed her. Anger, hurt, acceptance. Understanding.
Bridger wasn’t hers. He was never going to be hers. That man wasn’t meant for her, and they had both been sucked into a trick. She understood needing to tie up the loose ends and sign the paperwork before she left town.
That man was still mated to a ghost, and she couldn’t compete with that.
She nodded. “Okay,” she murmured.
She approached them slowly, eyes on the notary, who introduced herself as Maryanne Hayward. Kit set her duffle bag down on the ground and avoided looking at Bridger. He smelled like cologne and wolf this morning. His tailgate was down, and there were two coffees sitting on it. One looked like the iced coffee he’d brought her yesterday.
“I’m sorry,” he said low as Maryanne pulled the paperwork from the folder and organized them on the tailgate.
“Don’t be,” Kit clipped out. “This is right.”
“No,” he said quietly, sidling up beside her. “I mean for not messaging last night.”
“Bridger, it’s fine. This is what it is. You’re hot and cold, and this is right. We should go our separate ways.”
“I brought you coff—”
“I don’t want it,” she interrupted, finally looking up at him.
