TM - 278 - What are you wearing?
Her latest was James Whitaker, and she had met him at a costume party. He had been dressed as a cop, though he looked more like a member of the Village People - or so Lisa remarked to a friend as he approached her. "Sorry," she had said with a dismissive hand wave and a facetious smirk. "I was married to a cop for twelve years. I don't find it very attractive." But he had kept one eye on her the rest of the night. The next morning, she got a call. His name was James Whitaker and he was an investment banker. Not a cop. An investment banker-not cop who couldn't stop thinking about her. He was smart, successive, overwhelmingly handsome, and exactly the type of man she wanted her ex-husband to see her with.
She had been dating him casually for about two weeks when he left for a brief business trip down to San Diego. He called her on the second night, sometime after eleven. They kept the conversation clean for about as long as they could, until suddenly they were finding unwitting sexual innuendo hidden in every other phrase.
"What are you wearing?"
Before Lisa even had time to blush, she heard a click. Her eyes widened and she jumped out of bed, calling out Cassidy's name. Holding the phone at her side, her angry footsteps traveled from room to room, her search yielding zero results. It was then that she remembered Cassidy had gone to study with a friend, and there was no one else in the house. Bringing the phone back up to her ear, she apologized to James, who was waiting on the other line thoroughly baffled. Halfway through her apology, she heard sirens and caught a glimpse of familiar red lights flashing through the window. And then the doorbell rang. She dropped the phone down to her side again and ran into the foyer, flinging open the front door wearing only her bathrobe.
"Nash!"
Grinning cunningly back at her was her ex-husband, his partner Joe Dominguez waving at her from the passenger seat of his signature yellow Barracuda. "Give me the phone, Lisa," Nash demanded, holding his hand out. "I'd like to do the honors of hanging up on Mr. What-Are-You-Wearing."
Lisa's jaw dropped, her cheeks flushed in anger. "You were tapping my phone?!"
Nash laughed. "Hell no, I got better things to do, sister," he replied, tilting his head back to one of the police cars parked beside the 'Cuda. "I had Evan do it." The young cop in question stuck his head out at window to grin sheepishly at Lisa, who could only stare back at him in disbelief. "So, come on. Hand it over."
Lisa took a step back into the house, her entire face turning bright red as she clenched her jaw, practically shaking with rage. From the passenger seat of the 'Cuda, Joe's radar went off. "Uh, Nash. Buddy, you might want to, uh..."
Just as Nash turned his head to look back at his best friend, Lisa hurled the telephone full speed at his head. Nash recoiled, crying out in pain as Joe let out a sigh. "...Back away."
And with the phone laying in pieces on the concrete and Nash rubbing what would soon be a massive goose egg, Lisa turned on her heel and slammed the door. Nash stood stationary for a few seconds, looking up with surprise when Lisa flung open the door again. Without a word, she untied her bathrobe and pushed it off her shoulders, leaving her in only two pieces of lace lingerie. "There," she said, placing her head on her hips triumphantly as she felt at least ten pairs of eyes burn into her. "Now half your squad knows exactly what I'm wearing."
With that, she turned on her heel once more, slamming the door with finality. Slowly, Nash turned around to face his team, who were sporting large, goofy grins. He shook his head in frustration as he headed back toward the car. "So help me god if just one of you say one word about my wife..."
He toppled into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut with force as he turned the key in ignition. Joe glanced over at him skeptically. "Ex."
"What?"
"Ex-wife."
Nash let out a heavy, distracted sigh, pulling out into the street. "Yeah."
Muse | Lisa Bridges
Fandom | Nash Bridges
Word Count | 732
She had been dating him casually for about two weeks when he left for a brief business trip down to San Diego. He called her on the second night, sometime after eleven. They kept the conversation clean for about as long as they could, until suddenly they were finding unwitting sexual innuendo hidden in every other phrase.
"What are you wearing?"
Before Lisa even had time to blush, she heard a click. Her eyes widened and she jumped out of bed, calling out Cassidy's name. Holding the phone at her side, her angry footsteps traveled from room to room, her search yielding zero results. It was then that she remembered Cassidy had gone to study with a friend, and there was no one else in the house. Bringing the phone back up to her ear, she apologized to James, who was waiting on the other line thoroughly baffled. Halfway through her apology, she heard sirens and caught a glimpse of familiar red lights flashing through the window. And then the doorbell rang. She dropped the phone down to her side again and ran into the foyer, flinging open the front door wearing only her bathrobe.
"Nash!"
Grinning cunningly back at her was her ex-husband, his partner Joe Dominguez waving at her from the passenger seat of his signature yellow Barracuda. "Give me the phone, Lisa," Nash demanded, holding his hand out. "I'd like to do the honors of hanging up on Mr. What-Are-You-Wearing."
Lisa's jaw dropped, her cheeks flushed in anger. "You were tapping my phone?!"
Nash laughed. "Hell no, I got better things to do, sister," he replied, tilting his head back to one of the police cars parked beside the 'Cuda. "I had Evan do it." The young cop in question stuck his head out at window to grin sheepishly at Lisa, who could only stare back at him in disbelief. "So, come on. Hand it over."
Lisa took a step back into the house, her entire face turning bright red as she clenched her jaw, practically shaking with rage. From the passenger seat of the 'Cuda, Joe's radar went off. "Uh, Nash. Buddy, you might want to, uh..."
Just as Nash turned his head to look back at his best friend, Lisa hurled the telephone full speed at his head. Nash recoiled, crying out in pain as Joe let out a sigh. "...Back away."
And with the phone laying in pieces on the concrete and Nash rubbing what would soon be a massive goose egg, Lisa turned on her heel and slammed the door. Nash stood stationary for a few seconds, looking up with surprise when Lisa flung open the door again. Without a word, she untied her bathrobe and pushed it off her shoulders, leaving her in only two pieces of lace lingerie. "There," she said, placing her head on her hips triumphantly as she felt at least ten pairs of eyes burn into her. "Now half your squad knows exactly what I'm wearing."
With that, she turned on her heel once more, slamming the door with finality. Slowly, Nash turned around to face his team, who were sporting large, goofy grins. He shook his head in frustration as he headed back toward the car. "So help me god if just one of you say one word about my wife..."
He toppled into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut with force as he turned the key in ignition. Joe glanced over at him skeptically. "Ex."
"What?"
"Ex-wife."
Nash let out a heavy, distracted sigh, pulling out into the street. "Yeah."
Muse | Lisa Bridges
Fandom | Nash Bridges
Word Count | 732