“Yes,” she said softly. “Family is family.”
He gave her another squeeze.
“I’ll warm the tortillas,” she whispered.
He let her go.
She didn’t go far, only standing on his other side to turn on the griddle he’d put out and then she opened the bag of tortillas.
“Do you want the cheese melted on yours?” she asked.
“Sounds great.”
She got to work.
He prompted, “I know you wanna ask.”
She tipped her head back to look at him. “Ask what?”
He didn’t tell her what.
He just gave her the answer.
“Dad and I aren’t tight. He wants it. He always has. She blocked him at every turn. He also thinks what I do is a lark. He was okay with it at first. Now I’m old enough, according to him, he thinks I need to get serious about my future. By serious, he means getting out of this hick town and making a shit-ton more cash. He even offered me the seed money to start my own thing, whatever that might be. Called it an early inheritance. He has more of Granddad in him than he’d ever admit. But it’s seriously there.”
“Hmm,” she hummed.
She was right.
Hmm.
“So, he reaches out,” Judge continued, “and has been doing that often from the time I went to college to establish some kind of relationship we never really got to have when I was growing up. And it wasn’t like I never got to see him, or never spoke to him when I was younger. He had visitation rights he fully took advantage of. It’s just that Mom went out of her way to limit that as much as she could. And she didn’t succeed in much in her life, but she succeeded in that.”
After he gave her that, Chloe just stared at him.
So he kept going.
“Dad and I started building something. It was good. But it stalled because I dig what I do. Even though I’ll likely move on, and when I do, it’ll be to something where I’ll move up, make more money, take on more responsibility, learn new things, it’ll be in the not-for-profit sector. Something for kids, or the environment, or social responsibility.”
He was far from relaxed after laying all that last out.
And her response was exactly why.
“I don’t understand that.”
“Why I’ll stay in charity?”
She shook her head even as she sprinkled cheese on a tortilla she’d just flipped.
“No, not that. You’re exceptionally skilled at what you do. Obviously, I don’t want you leaving Bowie anytime soon, but as we were working, I saw you as an executive director of an independent organization. Something large. Maybe national.” She looked up at him again. “Frankly, and I won’t tell Bowie this, but you’re wasted on Kids and Trails. It’s not big enough for you. It’s clearly been good to cut your teeth on, but with your talent, you’ve outgrown it. As far as I can tell, reading the website, your annual report, working with you, you did that a long time ago. Plates?”
Mutely, because he was stunned silent by her words, not to mention distracted by the warm feeling building deep in his chest, he jerked his head to a cabinet.
Chloe reached.
And kept talking.
“Unless you branch out. Say, Kids and Trails has another arm, Kids and Conservation. Or Kids and Cleanup, where you take them out and show them what littering or non-recycling does to the landscape, and they help clean it up. Or Kids and Heritage, taking them to Native American reservations to learn stories of the people who were here before us. How they used the land, venerated it, took care of it, how they do that still.”
Judge remained silent, in awe of her and tracking every word out of her mouth, cataloguing it and filing it away to consider later.
“So not that. Your dad. I don’t get that. He’s filthy rich. How did he not find ways to get to you?”
When he didn’t answer, she stopped what she was doing with the plates, cheese and tortillas and turned back to him.
“Judge?”
He cleared his throat.
And said, “Because Granddad wanted me to himself, but if he couldn’t have that, he wanted me in Texas. Dad could have crushed Mom, but Granddad got involved, and he fights dirty. In the beginning, I was caught in the crossfire. To save me, particularly from the media feeding on the custody battle, and Granddad feeding that media, in the middle of all that being me, Dad had no choice but to back away.”
Her face paled.
“It’s okay,” he said.
Her face got red.
“It’s okay, honey,” he reiterated.
“You mean to tell me,” she began slowly, “that it wasn’t only your mother who fought tooth and nail to keep your father from you…your father, who sounds like the only functioning one out of that bunch, outside your grandmother, who’s dead…your grandfather did that too?”
“Look at me, I’m fine. I survived.”
“Are you kidding me!” she screeched abruptly.
Judge went solid.
“Oh my fucking God!” she yelled.
Judge stared.
“This…is not…to be…tolerated!” she shouted.
“Baby, calm down,” he urged soothingly.
“Fuck calm,” she snapped.
He blinked.
“Did you want to see more of your dad?” she demanded.
“Like you said,” he started cautiously, “he was the only functioning one of the bunch. But yeah, I mean, he’s my dad.” Considering her reaction, he wondered about the wisdom of adding his next, but since they were getting this out of the way, he did. “I didn’t spend a lot of time with him, but he was the only one I felt safe with the entire time I was growing up.”
She took a beat with that then literally shoved him out of the way.
Yep.
Shoved him out of the way.
Then she ripped the wooden spoon out of his hand and took over dinner.
And she did this raving.
“Well, no. No way. Not on your life. That is done. I mean, you must do what you must with your mother, the bare necessities. She did birth you after all.”
She was slamming around meat, tortillas, cheese was flying, opening the salsa, clicking the top off the sour cream container.
“But that grandfather of yours. And that uncle?”
He hadn’t even mentioned Jeff.
But Jeff was a fuckup and creepy to boot.
Judge had learned a long time ago to stay away from Jeff.
Obviously, though, her research had been thorough.
“No. No way,” she repeated, slapping meat on a cheesy tortilla. “And your dad is going to have to get over it. You’re good at what you do. You love doing it. If he’s not okay with you doing that, he can fuck off.” She twirled the wooden spoon in the air and taco juice went flying. “C’est fini.”
“Baby, you loaded half a pound of meat on that one tortilla.”
Her head snapped back, and her fiery eyes caught his.
“Are you not hungry?”
This.
Fuck.
It was this.
This was why they all leaned on her.
Because when Chloe Pierce loved you, she fought like hell to protect you.
And she did it like a wildcat.
He pulled the plate out of her hand, set it aside, took the spoon from her other hand, tossed it in the skillet, pushed the meat and the griddle from their burners and turned them off.
Then he maneuvered her back to the counter and pressed her to it.
“Judge, dinner will go cold,” she snapped, her hands on his chest, pressing.
“I…am…absolutely…fine…with…my…crazy…fucked-up…family,” he stated.
She gazed up at him.
“I live my life, and I don’t give a fuck what they think of how I do it.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“So you can stand down.”
Her eyes got big, and she sucked her lips between her teeth.
&n
bsp; “Yeah?” he pushed.
She let her lips go and he knew by the way she said the one syllable, “I—” she was not at one with his Yeah?
“Chloe, this…” he waved a hand between them, “is me looking out for you, not the other way around. Don’t lose the weight of carrying the others only to pull me on your shoulders. I don’t need you to carry me.”
“You might.”
“I don’t.”
“Maybe eventually.”
“But not now.”
“What I’m saying is…Judge,” she drawled his name slowly, it was cute, and hot, “it goes both ways, or it doesn’t go at all.”
“You gonna let this shit go you got in your head about Mom, Dad and Granddad?”
She lifted one shoulder. “If you say you’re good, then okay. Yes. I’ll let that go.”
He examined her face, looked deep into her eyes, and then he gave in. “Okay.”
She then examined his face, looked deep into his eyes, and asked, “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll share the load if there is one, or let me carry it, whatever the case may be.”
Share, sure. He was down with that.
Carry it?
No way in fuck.
“Yeah,” he somewhat told the truth, somewhat lied.
Her brows drew down. “You’re lying.”
He grinned. “Totally not.” Though partially, yes.
She didn’t quit her examination, one hundred percent not believing him, so he threw her off the scent.
“You throwing the drama was hot as fuck.”
Her head ticked.
Then she rolled her eyes and clicked her teeth.
“We need to have our official first date so we can make love after it and get that out of the way so I can fuck you,” he declared.
Her cheeks pinkened, her eyes darkened, her body slackened into his, but her mouth was all sass.
“I’m not a sex-on-the-first-date type of girl,” she sniffed.
“Then it’s good we’re essentially on what I’d consider our seventh, though I kinda think that time in Wild Iris is a semi-date, so seven and a half.”
“Seven and a half?”
“Wild Iris. New Year’s. The meet the parents dinner at your dad’s.”
She hmphed and said, “That wasn’t a meet the parents.”
“Did I sit down to eat with all your parents?”
She hmphed again but said no more.
He fought a grin and kept going.
“Cooking Club. Brunch. Wednesday. Today’s hike. Tonight. Seven and a half.”
“None of those were dates.”
“C’mon, baby,” he murmured. “Seriously?”
She couldn’t even lean into her claim for a full second, he knew that when her gaze skidded from his.
He grinned and asked, “Are you a sex on the eighth and a half date girl?”
She looked back at him. “Don’t be annoying, Judge.”
“Thursday, you’re letting someone else look after the store, because Wednesday, you’re driving up, we’re going on a date, and you’re spending the night. That’ll be our first time. Saturday, I’ll come down to you, I’ll have Zeke with me, and we’ll stay until Sunday evening. That’ll be when we fuck.” He paused. “A lot.”
She licked her bottom lip.
He dipped and caught it between his teeth.
Then he licked it and against it, prompted, “Yeah?”
“Okay,” she breathed.
“Wanna eat?”
“Yes,” she lied, gaze lowered, eyes to his mouth.
He touched it to hers, and before he was lost, and took her with him, he let her go.
“One thing you can say about today,” she began as he started to rescue the food by sorting out the gargantuan taco she’d made in her snit. “We’ll soon find out if I can’t trust you, or you can’t trust me.”
He grinned at her. “Luckily, I totally trust you, and I know you can trust me.”
It was then, it happened.
His life changed.
The world changed.
Everything changed with the look in her eyes.
A look she got right before she replied…
“Yes, chéri. Luckily.”
Chapter 20
The Wisteria
Chloe
I woke when the bed moved.
My first semi-coherent thought was to grab hold of Judge and not let him get out of it. Keep him close to me, just him and me, the world outside could take care of itself.
Just him and me.
For the day.
The week.
Forever.
Bliss.
But when I stretched out my arm, I came up empty.
I felt something land on my hip.
“Hey, sorry to wake you, but real quick, then I gotta go and you can go back to sleep,” I heard Judge say softly.
I rolled to my back, toward the sound of his voice, and opened my eyes.
There was light coming from somewhere, his bathroom? The hall?
But it was dim.
Nevertheless, I saw he was dressed, and his hair was still drying from a shower.
Right.
What was happening?
More importantly, how did I make it stop?
“Sleep as long as you like,” he was saying. “I put a new toothbrush head out for you. Use my electric one. There’s bacon staying warm in the oven. If you wanna make some eggs or a bagel to go with, go for it. Coffee is Nespresso. You know how to work a Nespresso?”
He’d been up long enough to cook bacon?
“There isn’t a coffee machine I cannot master,” I said, my voice still drowsy. “That said, you clearly missed it in the warm glow of food and friendship during Cooking Club, but I, too, own a Nespresso.”
He grinned, his dimple made an appearance, and I suddenly wasn’t drowsy at all.
“Rix brought Zeke home this morning.”
He did?
Already?
At this hour?
That was lunacy.
“He’s good,” Judge went on. “But if you wanna let him out before you go, he’d love you forever.”
“I already have his devotion,” I pointed out.
Still grinning and, “Yeah. Also, I set a key out for you just in case and put the garage door opener in your car. It’s on the seat. Plugged your phone in to charge, you forgot to do that last night. Please just be sure to turn off the oven before you go.”
I pushed up to my behind and noted, “This all seems alarmingly like a farewell.”
“It isn’t. It’s an ‘I gotta get to work,’” he corrected.
“I’m alarmed about that too.” I gazed out his windows at the dark and then turned my attention back to him. “It’s still night.”
“It’s seven a.m.”
“I’ll repeat, it’s still night.”
He started chuckling.
Then he committed the cardinal sin of leaning in and attempting to kiss me before I’d brushed my teeth.
I turned my head away.
“Baby,” he murmured.
“It’s morning.”
“There is no time I’m not down with kissing you.”
I kept my chin in my neck, my head as far away from him as possible as I looked back at him. “That’s very sweet. It also isn’t going to happen until I brush my teeth.”
“I gotta go and I want a goodbye kiss.”
“It isn’t goodbye. It’s ‘you have to get to work.’”
“Right, yeah, forgot.” He was back to murmuring, but now it was filled with amusement.
“Wait until I brush my teeth. Then we can kiss, and I can convince you to go to work late.”
“I’m never late.”
I had no doubt he wasn’t.
I tipped my head in challenge.
“You’d be worth being late,” he allowed. “Absolutely. And I don’t think Duncan would give a fuck, especially not today. But Chloe, I kiss y
ou, really kiss you, in my bed, neither of us is going to work today.”
This explained why he didn’t give me but a peck last night after we’d settled in.
I clicked my teeth, vexed because he was right.
Not to mention, uncertain why that was a bad thing.
“Quick kiss,” he said, and before I knew what he was about, he’d pressed his lips hard to mine.
I could allow that, closed mouthed, which was as far as he went.
He pulled away, whispered, “Text me when you leave. And text me when you make it home.”
“Fine,” I huffed.
“You’re a pathological cuddler,” he announced, apropos of nothing.
I stared.
Then I asked, “Sorry?”
“You chased me around the bed all night.”
“I did not,” I stated coldly.
I mean, hardly.
“You so did. I woke up once because we were both almost falling out.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“It did.”
“It did not.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, stole another quick kiss, then got off the bed and walked to the door.
Yes, the light was coming from the hall.
Plugged your phone in to charge, you forgot to do that last night.
This man, this sweet, thoughtful, handsome, caring man was falling in love with me.
“Judge,” I called before he arrived at it.
He turned.
“Do you like wisteria?” I asked.
“What?”
“Wisteria, the flowering vine.”
“Is this code for something?”
“No.”
“Is it crucial you have this information before I go to work?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m a little scared to say I don’t know what it is.”
“I’ll text you photos.”
I heard his soft chuckle before he said, “Look forward to that.”
He turned again.
“Judge,” I called.
He turned back.
“Thank you…for last night.”
His expression lost its humor and became so beautiful to behold, I nearly had to look away.
Obviously, I did not.
“Just glad it happened when I was close,” he replied.
I was too.
“Sleep, have breakfast, and be careful going down the mountain,” he bid.
I nodded.
“Talk to you later, baby.”
Chasing Serenity Page 26
