“Morning, sunshine.” Her ocean eyes light up with a spark that I got to see a hint of in the middle of the night.
“Good morning, babe.” My hand gathers her hair. It’s down in all kinds of waves, mussed up from sleep.
“I like that,” I murmur before my lips meet hers. I don’t deepen it as much as I want to. My sisters would make a mockery out of us if we did.
“Me too,” she replies when our kiss ends. I open the door and watch as Kellie walks through with Legend, followed by my sisters. Something tells me this morning is going to be one for the books.
Eleven
Kellie
“I have a great idea. Why don’t we call Mom and Dad? They can come eat breakfast with us too. Knowing Mom, she’ll bring mimosas.” Peyton wiggles her eyebrows, and I see the eagerness in Aspen and Rowan’s facial expressions too. They are all for it, which I mean, that’s fine. It’s me, totally me. I’m not used to being around such a big family atmosphere. Even when my parents were still alive, it was only my aunt and uncle at the family gatherings. Looking around though, I could really get used to having Bridger and his sisters around more.
“I don’t see why not, do you, Bridger?” I ask him. He’s mixing up the batter for the pancakes. Aspen is frying up bacon, while Rowan is cutting up fruit, and Peyton is already reaching for her phone.
“If you’re up for it, I’m sure they’ll like that.” He looks up at me. I nod my head at Peyton, giving her the go-ahead to call them.
“Do you have plans today?” I ask the group.
“I’m going shopping later on with Courtney. She’s looking for a gown. The military ball is coming up soon, and her boyfriend is getting something this or that, medal wise,” Aspen says.
“I have a date.” Rowan blushes before going back to her task of cutting the strawberries while throwing them in the bowl for a fruit salad.
“The fuck you are.” Bridger turns off the stove after her statement.
“I do, Bridge. I’m not a baby anymore. I’ll text you all the information and check in with you when I get home. We’re also meeting at Dubrow’s Bar and Grill, Brother Bear,” she rushes. Bridger looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. I slide off the barstool, abandoning my cup of hot tea. Sometimes I’ll drink coffee, but for the most part, a hot cup of black tea, steaming hot, steeped to no end, and a plop of sugar is what I have.
“Hey,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around Bridger’s trim waist. He wraps one arm around my shoulder. His other hand holds the spatula, and he points it at Rowen. “You get me his name, first and last, picture, and you text me when you make it to Dubrow’s and the minute you’re locked inside your apartment, or I’m rounding up the boys.”
“Hey, sunshine.” He kisses my forehead.
“Duh, Bridge, I was going to do that anyway. It’s not like I would want to put myself in danger or have a bunch of mammoths of men following me around. We all know how that was growing up,” she huffs out.
“Good, now that that’s settled, what’s the ETA on the parental units?” he asks Peyton.
“They should be pulling in about a minute or so,” she responds.
“Set the table. Kel, will you get the drinks out? The rest of us will plate this up, and everything will be set to go.” I knew Bridger was an alpha man. Even in something as small as having breakfast with everyone, he takes charge, though last night, it was me he let lead the way.
I smile at him, and we all do what we need to until his parents join us for breakfast. Peyton was not wrong. Bridger’s mom, Talia, and his dad, Rob, definitely brought the champagne in the form of a case of six bottles. After we all said hello with hugs and kisses on the cheeks, we sat down and devoured the food.
“This is so good,” I moan my appreciation for the food. Aspen, the quiet one of the bunch, snorts out her laughter at the way I’m practically orgasming over the fluffy pancakes Bridger made.
I can feel the flush rise up on my face. My head is down, and my shoulders are shaking with my own laughter when I feel Bridger’s hand skate up the inside of my leg with the two of us still wearing practically pajamas. If his fingers get much closer to my center, he’ll see how wet I am for him.
“I told you, his pancakes are to die for. We girls couldn’t wait until Mom and Dad had to work late or went to church early Sunday mornings and Bridger was home to make us breakfast. It was the only time we wouldn’t sleep in.” The girls are chattering. The only thing I can focus on is Bridger though.