One Week with the Best Man: Reclaimed by the Rancher
Julian was about to argue with her when he stopped short. The article never mentioned the source for the story. Even if Bridgette had read the magazine from cover to cover, why would she presume that Gretchen had been the one to spill the news? How could she even know that Gretchen had knowledge of James to begin with? There was only one good reason for that.
“You did it.” The sudden realization made his heart drop into his stomach with a nauseating thud.
Bridgette eyed him, a practiced look of vague innocence on her face. “I did what?” she asked with all the sweetness she could muster.
He didn’t know how she’d dug up the truth, but he knew down to the depths of his soul that Bridgette had been the one to betray him. “You’re the one that leaked the story about my brother.”
“Me? How could I do that when I didn’t know you had a brother? You never mentioned him or anything else about your family to me. I read about it in the gossip pages just like everyone else.”
“No. You did this.” Julian wasn’t about to fall for her protests; they were far too polished. She was an actress, after all. “There’s no way you could know that I’d blamed Gretchen for leaking the story unless you’d deliberately set it up to look that way. You got so jealous you did it deliberately to break up Gretchen and me. Admit it, or I’ll track down the journalist and find out for myself. And if it was you, and you lied to me, every secret you’ve ever told me will be front-page news.”
Bridgette’s mouth dropped open, her eyes darting around the room in a panic. Nothing here was going to help her now, unless she was willing to bludgeon him with the ceramic jar on the countertop.
“I had to,” she admitted at last. “It was the only way to get you away from Thunder Thighs. I had a detective following you in Nashville. I’d hired him just to keep tabs on you and get a feel for whether or not we had a chance to reconcile. Then he tailed you to Louisville and uncovered the truth about your brother. I wouldn’t have said a word about it, but then I realized that you took her with you. You’d never said a word about James to me in over a year together and yet you took her to meet him. I was devastated, Julian. I didn’t know what to do. I thought if the story leaked, you’d blame her and come home so distraught I could comfort you and we’d get back together.”
Bridgette was crazier than even he gave her credit for. “You plan is flawed, Bridgette. I did blame her and I did come home distraught, but I don’t want you to comfort me. I want you to go away.”
“Please, Julian. We could be a Hollywood power couple. Admit it, we just make sense together. A heck of a lot more sense than you and the pudgy artist.”
“Get out!” he roared, his anger turning on like the flick of a switch. He wasn’t going to have her in his presence insulting the woman he loved for one more minute.
“Julian, I—”
Julian lunged forward and snatched his house keys out of her hand. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. “Get out before I call the cops and the press so they can photograph you getting arrested for trespassing.”
Her eyes widened. He could tell she was trying to figure if he was bluffing or not. After a moment, she decided not to press her luck. Flinging her hair defiantly over her shoulder, she spun on her heel and marched down the hallway, proudly displaying the word JUICY in big letters across her rear end. Julian watched as she opened the front door and looked back at him. “You’ll regret losing me one day, Julian.”
Instead of responding, he waved his fingers in a happy dismissal. She stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her. Julian followed her path down the hallway, flipping the dead bolt and arming the perimeter alarm system in case she tried to sneak back in and boil a rabbit or something.
With a heavy sigh of relief, he traveled back to the kitchen. He tossed the keys down by the stack of mail and started sorting through the letters that Bridgette had no doubt snooped through before bringing them inside. The last letter in the stack had the logo of the Cerebral Palsy Foundation on the front.
Setting the rest aside, he opened the envelope. It was a letter informing him that an anonymous donation had been made to the foundation in his and James’s names. That brought a smile to his face. Perhaps having James’s story hit the news wasn’t bad after all. Now that it was done, perhaps being vocal about it would bring some much-needed attention to the cause. The foundation had even featured a story about them on the site with the link to donate to the cause in their name. If someone had seen the story and made a donation because of it, perhaps it was worth the angst that came along with it.