Page 17

Without another word, Alexis grabbed her crossbody bag and slid her feet into expensive biking shoes before she guided a sleek, white Eaton Silver bike out of the studio and through the back door. I heard the lock turn before I slid off my own bike shoes and headed up the stairs in my socks.

As I arrived at the apartment door, I took off the backpack and knocked. My face heated as I tried to figure out what to say when the door opened.

Thankfully, Bridges’ smile put me at ease immediately when he appeared in front of me. “Hello. Happy Fourth of July. Come on in.”

“Thank you for the invite. I, uh, I brought some appetizers...sort of.”

I followed Bridges into the kitchen, where I opened the backpack and pulled out my purchases. I lined them up on the counter before glancing at the gorgeous man in front of me, happiness flooding my body when he smiled.

I put the bottle of pinot grigio on the island, and Bridges chuckled. “You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it. Uh, maybe we can have the food and wine after the fireworks?”

My face flushed. I hadn’t thought about drinking before riding to see the fireworks. “Oh, that’s a good idea. I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

How could I not fucking think about drinking and then riding bikes to the Brooklyn Bridge? That was a disaster waiting to happen. You’re showing him how young and stupid you are, genius.

Bridges touched my shoulder. “This will be a nice treat after we get back. Thank you for thinking of it.”

He took the sausages and cheeses I’d brought and put them into his refrigerator, along with the wine. I nodded, feeling my face flush at his attention.

We shared a steak salad—lettuce, garden tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, croutons, and medium-grilled sirloin steak. The dressing was an amazing balsamic vinaigrette, and it was just enough.

“This is delicious. Where’d you learn to cook like this?” I wiped my mouth with a nice cloth napkin after I swallowed my last bite.

Bridges grinned. “The chef we had when I was growing up used to let me sit in the kitchen with her while she made meals for us. Dana taught me to make a few things once she was confident I wouldn’t burn down the house.”

I laughed. “Sounds like Renata, our former cook. When my mother married Claude while she was pregnant with me, she was food averse for quite a while. My father hired a cook so they didn’t starve, and he kept her on as I was growing up because Mom was busy with charity work. From Renata, I learned to make a few things before going to college, but nothing like this.” The steak he cooked was incredible.

“I’d be happy to, uh... Never mind. Should we go?” Bridges stacked the salad plates in the sink once we finished and turned to me with a big grin.

“I’ll be right back.” I stood from the table, carried over the rest of the dishes, and excused myself into the powder room down the hall.

How the fuck should I proceed? I knew what I wanted from Bridges, but how could I let him know without scaring him off? How damn dumb was I?

“The fireworks were pretty great, weren’t they?” Bridges asked as we biked back to his place.

We’d found a great place to watch the fireworks on the Brooklyn side of the river. There were other revelers around, though not as many as I’d expected. We sat on the grass and watched the show, which was incredible.

“They were. I haven’t seen the fireworks in years. I was away at college, and I didn’t come back to New York for summers a lot of the time.”

We arrived at his place and parked our bikes inside the studio. Bridges locked the door, and I followed him up the stairs to his apartment. “You ready for the wine and cheese, or do you need to go home because we were out longer than we thought?”

“I, uh... Mom’s at a party with friends in Manhattan, so nobody is expecting me. I’ve got time to hang out for a while. I can leave my bike, if that’s okay, and take an Uber later if I drink too much wine. I’ll come get it tomorrow so I have it for work on Monday.”

Bridges grinned. “No problem. Hell, you can stay if you’d like. No need to take an Uber back to Manhattan. Let’s sit, drink some wine, and eat the stuff you brought with you. Hell, I’m hungry again.”

I’d be damned if I could reject such an invitation. “Yeah, uh, that’s not a bad idea. I appreciate the offer. Do you have a cutting board?”

Sitting in the kitchen of my parents’ house, I’d witnessed Renata making charcuterie boards for my parents’ parties. I knew how to dress a board. It wouldn’t be as fancy as what my mother displayed at the parties, but I’d do my best.

Bridges’ kitchen was sparkling white with black counters and black and white floor tiles. It was exactly what I expected from him with a mostly masculine vibe. It was what I’d like to have for my own someday.

Bridges went to a cupboard and pulled out a nice bamboo board, placing it on the counter. “This okay?”

I nodded. “Knives?”

Bridges chuckled. “Make yourself at home. Look for what you need, West.”

I nodded and pulled out drawers, finding expensive knives and a wine key. “Mind opening the wine?” I offered the opener to him.