After fifteen minutes of Ryan quizzing her about her writing, Taran had her fill, and she was about to leave when she heard a throat clear next to her. She turned and saw a very flustered Bridget. She watched the beautiful woman shift from foot to foot, fiddling with her hands before finally looking up.
“I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do.” Bridget sighed and then rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I lost a bet.”
“What?” Taran asked and then glanced at Ryan, who looked just as confused.
“Before I do this, I just have to ask.” She paused, and a flush colored her high cheekbones. “Am I interrupting something?”
What the hell?
Ryan leaned his forearms on the table and looked from Taran to Bridget and back. It was clear on his face that he had no idea what this woman was rambling about either. There was only one thing Taran could take the question to mean.
“I’m a reporter, and I’m writing a story about Tim Tillerson. Tim had some personal things to take care of tonight. Ryan,” Taran gestured to him, “was nice enough to keep me busy so I wouldn’t be bored in my room, but I was just about to leave. I can get out of your way.”
“No!” she said quickly and then flushed deeper. She huffed out a breath. “I hate Corey Matthews,” she mumbled, looking at the table as she continued. “Part of the bet is that I have to talk to you both.”
Ryan chuckled. “Matthews made a bet involving us?”
Bridget looked up, nodding slowly. As her gaze shifted around the room, Taran didn’t see Corey.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but this happens every time I’m with him or any of the Evanses.” Bridget sighed.
Taran knew that feeling. “If it makes you feel better, the last time I was with the Evanses, they talked me into being Danny’s platonic date for Nick’s wedding. Danny left me for the entire party, and he went home with another girl.”
Bridget smirked. “Danny is something else.”
Ryan cleared his throat.
“Right,” Bridget said. “Okay, so, Ryan.” She paused again.
Taran saw how uncomfortable Bridget was. “You two figure this out. I’m leaving.”
“You can’t. Corey wanted you to hear this,” Bridget said pathetically.
“Why?” she asked.
Bridget just rolled her eyes, but rushed. “Ryan, Corey and I have never hooked up. Brocode thing because Luke Evans and I dated for a brief time. Corey brings me out with you guys every time you’re in town because I keep hoping I’ll be brave, or stupid, enough to admit I’ve wished to have a drink with you for a while.” When she finished, her face was the color of a lobster.
Taran watched Ryan’s eyes shoot around the bar, looking for Corey.
“He went back to his hotel room,” Bridget mumbled. “And no, this is not a joke, just humiliating.”
Ryan moved quickly and bent down, whispering something in Bridget’s ear.
“Pino,” she said quietly, a soft smile on her face.
“Do not leave this table. I’ll be back in two minutes,” Ryan said, and when Bridget nodded, he practically ran to the bar.
“I’m going to leave. It was nice meeting you. Sorry Corey made you have an audience for that,” Taran said.
Bridget shook her head. “It wasn’t about an audience, Taran. He didn’t expect you to be here, and once you were, he wanted you to know that he and I aren’t and never have been dating.”
Taran glanced away.
“Corey just pushed me out of my too afraid to admit what I wanted box, and he isn’t here, so I can’t return the favor, but I’ll do this for him instead.”
There was a pause, and Taran almost looked back at Bridget.
“He talked about you all through dinner.”
Taran picked at the coaster below her drink. “Nothing is going on between us.” She finally looked back up.
Bridget nodded and smiled sadly. “I know, but he wishes there was. He’s a good guy, Taran. Maybe you could give him a chance.”