Page 11 of Trial and Error

I linger for a short while and listen as she talks to him through gritted teeth. It’s obvious that she has no interest in talking to him, but he doesn’t take the hint and keeps looking at her with a leering glance. I don’t miss the way his eyes stay glued to her chest, despite the gold band on his ring finger.

Asshole.

I take a few slow steps forward and catch the tail end of what she’s saying. “Meeting my fiancé was such a blessing, and you know how the saying goes, you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince.”

A little smirk pinches at the corners of my mouth as I see the way the dickhead in front of her narrows his eyes in anger. “Is that so? He must work here then, for you to be attending.”

She says nothing, and I wait for her to speak up, but her shoulders grow tense the more the silence grows. She doesn’t know anyone here other than her fiancé who can help her out; that much is obvious from the way her stance becomes guarded. I can’t help but feel the urge to jump in and save her from this prick, even if that means I might have to take a fist to the face from her actual fiancé.

The blonde then hums softly as if the mere thought of interacting with him bored her. “That’s right.” She looks around, probably for her fiancé, before waving a hand dismissively. “He’s around here somewhere. Most likely schmoozing with other businessmen, you know what it’s like.”

I don’t catch what he says to her in the time it takes for me to move closer and stand behind her. What the fuck am I doing? I slip my hand around her waist and gently pull her into my side and look at the stunned man in front of me with a smirk.

Dick.

I look down at the woman tucked into me. “There you are,” I say as I lean down toward her and gently give her side a squeeze, my lips brushing the tip of her ear. “I thought I’d lost you, baby.”

The hairs on her arms stand up as she slowly turns to face me with a calm, yet slightly panicked, expression on her face before recognition flashes through her eyes. I don’t wait for her to reply as I look back at the man stood in front of us with his mouth hanging open. I hold my hand out and plaster on the widest grin onto my face.

“Hey, man, I’m Elias,” I say, watching as his shaky hand clasps around my own and I make sure to squeeze it extra hard. “I hope you’re not hitting on my girl here. I know she’s an absolute smoke-show and since her ring is getting resized, I’ve been batting men off left, right, and centre.”

His face turns pink and blotchy, and I feel the way he pulls his now clammy hand back from mine and wipes it down the front of his navy pinstripe slacks. “I’m Tom, uh, I’m Bridget’s…uh⁠—”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she replies, her head tilting to the side, and I bite the inside of my mouth to prevent a smirk appearing as she soaks up his discomfort.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and whistle. “Man, I suppose I’ve got to thank you, really, because only a fucking idiot would let a woman like this go. And if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t get to call her mine.” I press a kiss to her temple and wink. “So, thanks, man, appreciate it.”

Tom nods slowly. “You’re welcome?” he says, but it sounds more like a question. “How did the two of you meet?”

I clear my throat and pinch her side. “Go ahead and tell him, baby. You know you always tell the story the best.”

Bridget chuckles nervously. “Oh, if you insist…” Tom watches her, expectantly. “Natalie hosted a small dinner party about six months ago, not too long after Christmas, to celebrate her promotion, and Elias was there. Natalie introduced us and we hit it off right away. Turns out, we have a lot more in common than we thought, and the next thing we know, we’re going on dates and spending all our time together.”

“Six months? That’s pretty fast, don’t you think?” Tom asks, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass.

I shrug. “I didn’t see the point in waiting—I already knew she was the one.” Before Tom can answer, I finish the last sips of my drink and reach in between them to put my glass on the side. “If you don’t mind, we’re going to mingle.”

I steer Bridget away from the bar toward one of the unoccupied tables. She lets me keep my hand on her waist until we’re sat down opposite each other. She looks up at me nervously and runs her hands over the fabric over her thighs, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles.

I see the way a slight blush creeps up the side of her neck and over the apples of her cheeks. Reaching forward, I tap the back of her hand with my index finger and her fussing stops, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.

The prettiest baby blues widen slightly as she takes me in before she looks bashful and blinks away, looking anywhere but me. “Thanks for that,” she says in a quiet and embarrassed tone. “Talk about first impressions.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, watching as she smiles to herself. “It looked like a pretty uncomfortable situation.”

Bridget nods, tucking her hair behind her ear when a cluster falls in front of her face, “Yeah.” She sighs deeply. “I just really hate that guy.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I figured as much.” I lean back into my chair, enjoying the way she watches me, her eyes quickly trail over my shoulders and down the length of my torso. “Sorry for that, by the way. I’m sure your fiancé isn’t going to be too happy knowing you had another man put his hands all over you.”

Bridget tilts her head to the side as a look of confusion mars her face. “My what?”

It’s my turn to feel confused. “Your fiancé. You were looking for him when that guy came up to you. If you need me to, I’m happy to explain the situation to him.”

She blinks, snapping out of her daze and looks up at me with a sheepish grin. “Oh.” She laughs uncomfortably. “I don’t actually have a fiancé. I was just fucking with him. He was rubbing his wife in my face, and I panicked.” A groan passes through her lips and if she wasn’t already as red as a tomato, she would be now. “God, this is so embarrassing. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

I feel my shoulders drop in relief. I shouldn’t like the idea of knowing that she’s single but I do, and it sends a small buzz of excitement up my spine. “I was prepared to explain myself to your fiancé for having my hands on you, but I feel marginally better that I get to leave here without a broken nose.”

She giggles and the sound has my ears pricking up. Out of the blue, she holds her hand out. “I’m Bridget, by the way.”