by Unknown
“Hey…isn’t this—”
“Z’s biker jacket from high school,” Esme exclaimed excitedly, reaching out to touch the familiar, but faded patch sewn to black leather: Live to Ride stitched across a blue and white letter Z shaped like a lightening bolt.
“Oh my God, remember how hot he used to be, cruising around town on that bike he put together with Stephen, sunglasses and summer tan—”
“So cool he was like a gliding piece of art,” Esme chuckled. For some reason, even though the jacket was Z’s, it made her think of Jude…of being young and free and so full of promise. It was a given that every day was a new adventure. How did the magic fade away so subtly, so that you hardly noticed it disappearing from your clutching hands?
For what felt like the tenth time that morning, her eyes stung with emotion.
“Ursa told me earlier that Stephen had cleaned out the garage and brought a bunch of stuff in from the Lodge,” Sadie said while Esme determinedly blinked back unwanted tears.
“What price would you put on it?” Esme asked after a moment, checking the stitching and lining of the jacket with an expert eye and fingers.
“I don’t know. Thirty bucks, maybe?”
“I’ll give Ursa a hundred for it,” Esme said decisively, turning to stow the jacket under her purse. She saw her sister’s amused glance. “What? Z was always a fashion icon without ever trying to be. It’s a piece of history.”
“Fashion history?”
“Our history.” She loaded ski jackets in her arms. “I’m taking these out. I’ll be right back.”
Ursa would be happy with the thrift store crowd, Esme decided when she entered the main showroom. Twenty or thirty people browsed through the donated items, and Ilsa had a line at checkout. She was just finishing hanging up the ski jackets when she noticed a head of long, bleach blonde hair and a curvy figure in the distance. The woman was stroking a blue and gold snowboard and exclaiming about it to another woman. Esme’s eyes sprang wide in alarm. She hurried across the room.
“Shelly, hi! It’s so good to see you,” she said breathlessly. While Shelly DaRosa, Mat’s wife, was still looking over her shoulder in surprise, Esme snatched the board from her.
“This isn’t for sale.”
“What? But—”
“Its mine,” Esme laughed, rolling her eyes. “My mom brought it accidentally, I guess. I looked over just now and was like…Crap. That’s a mistake.” She unobtrusively leaned the snowboard against the rail behind her and reached out her arms. “It’s great to see you. We missed you at the house last night.”
Shelly looked very suspicious. Rightfully so. Esme was never this warm with her. Nevertheless, she returned Esme’s hug half-heartedly.
“Mat said you were a little under the weather. I hope you’re feeling better?” she asked brightly, giving a nod and a smile to Shelly’s equally blonde friend. She looked like a clone of Shelly, down to the slight frown as she regarded Esme suspiciously. Esme dimly recalled from high school the friend’s name was Celeste…or possibly Cecilia?
“A little under the weather? Is that what Mat called it?” Shelly scoffed.
“Well…I’m not sure if that’s exactly how he put it,” Esme answered evasively, noticing the significant what-did-I-tell-you glance Shelly gave her girlfriend.
“I was sick as a dog. I could hardly make it to the bathroom. But Mat insisted on leaving me all alone and going to your house. He said it was that important. Was it?”
“Uh…yeah, I guess. Mat didn’t tell you about it?”
“Not a word,” Shelly said, her undisguised bitterness making Esme shift uncomfortably on her feet. Jesus, what a bitch.
Poor Mat. She’d never understand why he’d married Shelly.
“Oh, well it was just family stuff,” Esme waved it off, eager to make a getaway from the awkward situation. She twisted around and picked up the snowboard.
“And a sick wife isn’t?” Shelly said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose your sister, the famous movie star was there?”
Esme rolled her eyes. “You can call her by her name, Shelly. You and Sadie were in the same grade from kindergarten through high school.”
“I’m surprised she’d lower herself to enter our worthless little town anymore. Does she come to Tahoe Shores often?”
“Once or twice a year,” Esme shrugged, glancing longingly at the back room. She noticed Shelly’s gaze narrow on the snowboard again. Shelly opened her mouth, and somehow Esme just knew she was going to ask some snarky, suspicious question about the board.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better today,” Esme deflected quickly. “I’ve got to run…helping out with the sale and all. Be sure to stop by the house in the next few days. Mom would love to see you.”
Esme hefted Jude’s old snowboard under her arm and made a beeline for the backroom.
Chapter Thirteen
That night, Ilsa announced to her daughters that Stephen was coming over for dinner. She thought it’d be nice if they spent the evening together, just the five of them.
Sadie, Ursa and Esme had all exchanged uncomfortable glances at that declaration.
They’d gotten through dinner okay, but when Ilsa and Stephen suggested playing a board game afterwards, Sadie had said she was tired and just wanted to watch television in the family room. Ursa had begged off as well, disappearing into her room at some point after dinner. Apparently, her sisters didn’t feel like playing “happy little family” anymore then Esme did.
Feeling too restless to watch TV, Esme pretended to read a book while her mother and Stephen sat side by side near the fireplace, chatting quietly and occasionally touching each other with completely besotted expressions on their faces. Esme couldn’t stomach watching them for long, nor could she continue to feign interest in the boring book. She was drawn over to the window.
A few minutes later, she recognized the shape of Jude’s figure and his long coat when he stepped out of the Lodge. He made his way down the driveway, a tall, dark shadow showing up starkly due to bright moonlight and the pale dusting of snow they’d gotten earlier that afternoon.
She’d had a feeling she’d see him tonight. Jude couldn’t stay still for long. His restless energy required that he exercise, or at least stretch his legs, every few hours.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said hastily, moving away from the window.
“Tell Jude hello,” her mother murmured distractedly from where she sat next to Stephen, working on some embroidery. Esme suppressed the automatic denial that came to her tongue. Jude? Why would you think I was going to see Jude?
She reminded herself there was no reason for defensiveness. She and Jude were friends, after all. Her family would think it was strange, for Jude and her not to get together during a visit when both of them were home. Sadie didn’t even look around when Esme left the room, seeming fascinated by an old, black and white version of A Christmas Carol. Big faker, Esme thought disgustedly. Although she couldn’t really blame her.
“Is your phone busted?” Esme called out to Jude when she was about ten feet behind him. She’d jogged to catch up with him. She knew perfectly well he could hear her footsteps behind him, but he’d just kept walking.
“No. Not that I’m aware of,” he said levelly, not breaking his long-legged stride.
“Because I texted you today. From the hospital fundraiser. I asked if we could talk,” she panted, finally coming up next to him. He stared straight ahead, offering her nothing but the vision of his stark, stubborn profile.
“Jude, come on. You misunderstood what I said this morning. Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m not the one being a dick.”
“Okay, so I’m the dick,” she admitted in exasperation, running in front of him, facing him, and halting in her tracks. He abruptly stopped, staring down at her with his mouth set in a hard line. In the winter moonlight, his handsome face looked like it was carved from silvery-blue ice.
“I may not have sai
d things right this morning, and I’m sorry for that. But don’t be mad at me for caring.” He frowned slightly, but she felt the slight give in his anger. “I don’t want to lose you,” she confessed impulsively. “Even though I’m not sure I ever had you—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he interrupted.
She shrugged. “We’re still friends, but it’s not like we’re that close. Not anymore.” She glanced down self-consciously at her snow-spattered boots. “Not since we were in high school, really.”
“You were the one.”
“I was the one, what?” Esme asked dubiously.
“Who started to pull away. It was that summer before I went away to college.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise. In a thousand years, she would have never guessed that Jude had noticed exactly when they’d begun to drift apart. It’d been that gut-wrenching summer day when she’d come home a day early from art camp, and seen Sadie and him in that blatantly sexual tableau by the pool. After that, there’d been many a times she’d witnessed Jude watching her sister in that way: focused and serious…
Longingly.
After that, Esme hadn’t been able to look at Jude in the same way. Even if her feelings for him did stubbornly remain.
But Jude hadn’t known she’d witnessed that volatile scene. Esme had done her best to pretend everything was normal. It left her speechless, to realize that Jude had noticed exactly when she’d begun to withdraw from their friendship.
“You thought I didn’t notice? Do you think I’m that dim?” he asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together as he studied her face.
“No…I guess I’m the dim one,” she managed, shaking her head slightly to clear it. She couldn’t re-imagine that poolside scene at the moment. It was too much, given everything else on her plate.
“I guess it never occurred to you,” he said. He saw her continued clueless expression. “It never even crossed your mind: the idea of you and I getting together.”
She gasped softly in amazement.
“Because it’s occurred to me. Plenty of times,” he said, his voice like a soft lash hissing through the night air. “It really pisses me off, Es. Do you have any idea how often I thought about doing what I did in Beverly Hills? Doing what we did last night?” He stepped closer, his gaze like a tractor beam. She stared up at him, stupid with disbelief.
“You thought about me?” she squeaked.
She saw the whites of his eyes and heard his muttered curse.
“Who the hell else would I be thinking about?” His hands cupped her shoulders in a firm grip, lifting her slightly toward his lowered head. “I’m not claiming I have all the answers. I don’t know how this would work, given that we live on opposite sides of the country and that we’re both workaholics. And the fact that you don’t do the long-term—”
“That’s not true,” she sputtered. “I have a bad rap about that—”
He squeezed her shoulders tighter. His mouth hovered just inches above her upturned lips.
“The point is, do you have to slap things down just when they get interesting? Come on, Es,” he cajoled softly. “There’s some off the charts chemistry between us.”
“You’re not nervous at all? About ruining our friendship?”
“I have my concerns, yeah. But I think at worst, there would be a strain for a while. But I think we’d get through it. I can’t imagine not wanting to be your friend.”
She swallowed with difficulty. “I feel the same way about you.”
“And this worry you have, it’s not because you know for certain that you’ll have to dump me?”
“No! That whole m.o. you and my family pin on me about being in it for the short term with guys is a highly exaggerated rumor,” she defended, feeling very beleaguered by the whole topic.
“A rumor instigated and perpetuated by you, Es.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but saw the familiar patient knowing expression on his face, and snapped her mouth shut.
“Maybe it’s high time we saw what else there could be between us,” he said quietly. “Come on. What happened to the girl who couldn’t turn down a challenge?”
She couldn’t get air into lungs. His stare swallowed her whole.
“Esme?” His white teeth flashed in his shadowed face.
“She’s right here,” Esme gasped. She grabbed his coat lapel with a claw-like grip and jerked him down to her mouth, but he was already on his way.
“Wow,” she breathed out dazedly a minute later when their drugging kiss broke. Vapor clouded around her opened mouth as she panted. She soaked in the exquisite sensation of Jude’s mouth moving hungrily on her neck. Maybe some things were worth risking a friendship on. She clutched tighter to his shoulders and murmured his name, need ripe in her tone. He answered her, his mouth fastening on hers again, his tongue penetrating her lips, his taste setting off those increasingly familiar detonations in her blood.
“Whose house? Yours or mine?” he asked hoarsely a moment later, his voracious mouth now nipping at her ear, his teeth dragging against her earlobe. A tremor of pure lust went through her, making her groan louder than she intended. Her eyelids popped open at the desperate sound. Golden light captured her attention from the house to their right. She backed out of Jude’s embrace partially.
“Where are you going?” he muttered, his mouth slanting in dissatisfaction—apparently at the realization that his feast was escaping.
“Jude, we can’t just go marching into my house or the Lodge and head up to a bedroom. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
“We’re making out in front of the Goldstein’s,” Esme whispered lamely, nodding urgently at the large home to the right of them.
“So? They’re in Boca for the holidays. Grandpa told me,” A grin twitched his sexy mouth. “Unless…are you suggesting we sneak into the Goldstein’s to fool around?”
“No. What do you want, for us to spend Christmas in jail?”
He shrugged, his grin widening. He liked teasing her far too much. Nevertheless, she instinctively clamped her thighs together to counter the ache at her sex. Damn. The man could smile his way into the Imperial harem.
“The Goldsteins aren’t using it,” Jude reasoned. “And it’s not like we haven’t snuck into someone’s house before. Remember? The Atkinson’s?”
“You and Mat were fourteen years old, and I was twelve.” Esme snorted in laughter at the memory. “God, you really did turn me into a juvenile delinquent.”
“Let the corruption continue.”
She scoffed, and he laughed quietly. “Okay. Where do you want to go, then?” She saw the gleam in his eyes and the slant of his jaw, and knew he was right. This wasn’t a situation where they could cool down. They needed to find some privacy. Fast. An idea came to her.
“The clubhouse?”
“Isn’t it always locked at night?”
“I know the entry code,” she said, grinning triumphantly. She pulled on one of his hands and they started jogging the direction of the residence common area and the community building, located near the beach. “I used to know it anyway. Jacob gave it to me after we had Dad’s wake there. Hopefully he didn’t change it.”
“If he did, then we are going to march through the front door of one of our houses and head straight for a bedroom,” Jude insisted. “It’s not like we didn’t do it twelve times a day when we were—”
“But we’re not kids anymore. And we’re not going upstairs so that I can kick your ass at World of Warcraft,” Esme interrupted, panting. She gave him a sharp glance as they rounded the corner of the clubhouse, their footsteps making hollow thuds on the cold concrete sidewalk. “And unless—or until—we decide to go public on any of this, I’d prefer not to…you know.”
“Screw secretly under Grandpa’s or your mother’s roofs?”
“Yeah,” Esme agreed a little defiantly as they paused at the front doors in front of the keypad.
“When did you become so pious, Esm
e Esterbrook?”
“It’s got nothing to do with piousness,” she defended, scowling. She turned her attention to the keypad “I just don’t want everyone looking at us and wondering and expecting—”
He caught her gloved hand abruptly in midair. She looked up at him, startled.
“You’re already anticipating this being over, aren’t you?”
Chapter Fourteen
She jerked her hand out of his.
“I am not anticipating this being over,” Esme insisted hotly. “Do you want me to put in the code or not, Beckett?”
Jude nodded once, but his mouth had drawn into a hard line. Damn, he could be difficult sometimes. Stubborn. Willful. Judgy.
Insinuating I’m already anticipating the end of their fling. The nerve of him. Some things never change.
Even though I am scared to death of this all crashing and burning…because it’s you, Jude.
Yes, she’d said she thought they could survive a possible ending of a romantic relationship, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t dread the possibility of more awkwardness and avoidance. With Jude, of all the people in the world.
She finished the code, holding her breath in anticipation. The green light lit up. She heard the lock slide back, and Jude was holding the door open for her.
It was nearly pitch black in the clubhouse, eerily silent, and—
“Cold. Jesus, it’s freezing,”
“Jacob probably only turns up the heat when someone reserves the room. I’ll find the thermostat, but it’s going to take a while to heat up,” Jude said. His deep voice resounded from somewhere in the middle of what she knew to be the great room of the clubhouse. She stumbled against the back of a couch, cursed under her breath, and felt her way around to the front. She plopped down onto the soft cushion and wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering. There was a click, then a whooshing sound. Jude’s crouching figure was outlined against the leaping flames in the hearth.
“Oh, nice,” Esme whispered, sliding along the couch toward the fire. She took off her gloves, feeling the heat. “But you better turn it down some, so that no one notices the light from outside,” she added regretfully. The heat was extremely welcome on her chilled skin. Jude obliged, turning the gas flame down low enough that most of the light was shadowed in the deep hearth. She could just make out his facial features when he straightened and came toward her. He stood in front of her and unbuttoned his coat, whisking it off his shoulders. She felt the heavy garment fall next to her on the couch.
