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My ears perked up. “Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve really enjoyed helping out with Thorne Tough. Maisie’s an absolute inspiration—her passion for serving others—and I think I’d like to find a place within a charitable foundation.”

I was forever in awe of her.

“That’s a fantastic idea. I’m sure if you wanted, Levi and Arizona would be happy to offer you a permanent position within Thorne Tough.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I would be honored to keep working toward Maisie’s vision, but a part of me wants to pour my energy into a cause that speaks to me on a personal level.”

“Like something involving those who have suffered from domestic abuse?” I hedged.

Bridget’s head tilted from side to side. “That, or research for glioblastoma.” The cancer that had taken Russ from us too soon.

This woman had a huge heart, and I would do whatever was within my power to support her new dream.

“You know, the San Diego Surf Foundation has partnered with Thorne Tough. I bet if I told them you wanted to start a charity in Russ’s memory, they would be on board to help get it off the ground. He’s not here anymore, but he will forever be a part of the Surf family.”

At my offer, she began to backtrack. “Oh, I don’t know that I want to create something new.”

“That’s okay. Just know that there’s an open door available if you ever want to walk through it.” I squeezed her hand. “And no matter what you decide, I’ll be there every step of the way.”

When she turned to face me, the setting sun cast a golden glow over her features. “Thank you, Cole. For everything.”

I lifted our joined hands so that I could brush a kiss across the back of hers, and murmured against her skin, “You’re welcome.”

We walked in silence after that, and I reveled in the quiet intimacy shared with my soulmate.

Bridget Russell was my other half, and in the years spent without her, I’d been a shell of a man. Now that I had her back, my life felt worth living again.

For the first time in a long time, I was truly excited about the future.

Chapter 21

Bridget

These workouts were torture. And it wasn’t because of the intensity.

No, it was the professional athlete putting on a panty-melting display of bulging muscles who was to blame.

Since we started “dating,” he’d stopped wearing a shirt during our sessions in his home gym, and his insanely ripped torso taunted me. I was practically drooling, desperate to trace each ridge with my tongue and taste the salty tang of the sweat glistening on his skin.

God, he was so fucking hot I could hardly stand it.

Thankfully, in this environment, I could play off my panting as being winded from physical exertion. Though every time he glanced in my direction, it felt as if he could tell I was lusting over him instead of focusing on counting my reps.

Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more aroused, Cole lifted his water bottle, squirting a stream directly over his head. The liquid soaked the inky stands of his hair before rivulets carved a path down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung athletic shorts.

My teeth descended on my lower lip at the memory of what he was packing below the belt.

“Bridget?”

“Mmm?” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his crotch.

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

Busted.

“I’m good.” I fanned my flaming face.