Page 3 of Same Rogue
“Take your time,” he grumbled, feeling like the dirt on the bottom of her boot.
She’d had a point. He’d aimed insults at her and none of this was really her fault. It’s not like she’d intended to come here and be the wrong match for someone. She’d been the one who was tricked. It was so messed up. Vic and Lyric were going to pay for this. He would call a Pack meeting tonight and expose the behavior in front of everyone, and especially in front of his Alpha, Liam.
She was digging frantically through her purse, then stood and looked up on the porch, then knelt back to her purse. “Have you seen my phone?” she asked in this emotional little voice. God, she sounded like her heart was hurting.
Bridger swallowed hard as he realized her phone was in his back pocket. “Shoot, here,” he murmured, offering it to her. “I didn’t realize I’d kept it.”
“It’s fine.” She stammered and heaved a thick sigh. Her breath hitched and she connected a call, giving him her back. “It’s not your fault either,” she said kindly.
Bridger stood there awkwardly as she connected a call on her phone.
A tear streaked to her cheek, and she dashed the moisture away with the back of her hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can I just have a second? I have to figure some stuff out. I don’t like crying in front of people, and my stupid emotions are everywhere, and…” She heaved a steadying sigh, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, the glow was less and they were back to gray instead of nearly white. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Hi,” she answered as her call was picked up. She paced away, and he could see her wipe her cheeks again. “Yeah, I got here, but I think I’m just not ready for this. I made a mistake. You were right.” She turned to see if he was still there, and Bridger had only made it to the porch.
She frowned and pulled open her car door. “Listen, can I borrow a little money to get home? I’m on empty.” The door closed, and he had to strain his ears to hear. “No, I just need gas money. I’m going to drive straight through.”
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like her borrowing money. He didn’t know this lady, but he did understand the desperation in her voice. He’d been there before.
He’d been pretending to put his porch chairs back in their place, but now he jogged down the porch stairs and pulled her door open.
“What are you doing?” she asked, covering the speaker of her phone.
“Who are you talking to?”
“None of your business.” She reached over and tried to close the door.
“I’ll give you gas money,” he murmured low. “It’s the least I can do.”
She frowned. “I don’t need anything from you.” She reached over and tried to close the door again, but he kept it pried open and knelt beside her.
“Please,” he whispered.
Her dainty nostrils flared with her deep inhalation. “Val, can I call you back?”
“What’s happening?” a woman’s voice asked on the line.
“Bridger wants to talk. I’ll call you back in like one minute.” She hung up. “Look, I have a job lined up here. I didn’t just come here trying to mooch off you. I’m supposed to start bartending at The Mark tomorrow afternoon. I had a plan. I would’ve had cash tips by tomorrow night. I don’t mooch.”
Okay. Okay, this woman was interesting at least.
“I’m a hard worker and I’ve never asked anyone for anything.”
“You’re asking Val for something,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, she’s my Packmate and owes me a thousand bucks. I helped her get all of her gutters replaced last year. I’m comfortable asking her for gas money in a desperate situation.”
“You can’t just drive straight back to Alabama. It’s a long drive. You need to take a break and rest before you head back.”
“Why do you care? Huh, stranger?” She gripped the steering wheel and looked over at Vic and Lyric’s house. “This is all really messed up.” Another tear slipped to her cheek, and she wiped it fast. “I’m not weak,” she growled. He liked the way her voice sounded when it was gritty.
It really was messed up, the more he thought about it. He felt badly that this had happened to this lady.
“Wait here,” he told her.
Bridger made his way inside and grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter, then on second thought, doubled back and grabbed her a cold bottle of water from the fridge and a package of cookies he’d just bought on a whim at the grocery store.
He returned to her car, and she looked baffled as she took the water and cookies from him. “Thank you,” she murmured.
He connected a call to a hotel in Coeur d’Alene and booked a room, paid for it with his credit card he knew by memory, as he made his way to the shed on the side of his house and grabbed one of the full gas cans he kept stocked. He hung up and popped the lid of her gas tank and started filling it. “There’s a room at the Double Tree waiting for you. What’s your number?” he asked.
