No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2)

by Elizabeth Perry

  “No worries there, Saint Willow.” My voice trails off as the tie on her rope slips open, and I’m yet again face to face with her braless tits. All of the blood drains from my face and travels down to the part of me that is about to take total control here.

  Fuck.

  I immediately turn my head away from her and begin to count my breaths. One, two, three…nope. Not even close to working.

  “What are you doing here, anyways? This is normally the time that you try to sneak out of the house, not back inside of it. Did you come here to hook up? I’m sure there’s a few willing vaginas in this house. I can’t guarantee that they weren’t pounded last night, but since when do you care about that?”

  Since I tasted yours.

  I stare at her, really stare at her, wishing that for once, she could read my mind. If she could, maybe she’d change her opinion of me, or at least, not be such an asshole to me. If she could just treat me like a person for once, instead of a dick with the plague, that’d be great.

  “I left my phone here last night.” I glance around the living room, trying to spot it in all of the mess. “And of course, it’s dead, so I can’t call it.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that?” The garbage bag is dropped from her hands, making me cringe as I hear the sound of more glass breaking inside of it. If she’s not careful, she’s going to cut the hell out of herself. I’m sure she knows that, so I don’t bother warning her. I mean, she is a doctor, after all, which means that she’s smart. She stalks into the foyer, and then returns a few moments later with it clutched in her hand.

  “Here you go.” I’m almost immediately dismissed. “Now you can go on about your merry way, straight back home to your orange faced, hot pink lipstick lips, slut.”

  If she only knew.

  “I didn’t hook up with anyone last night, Willow.” She doesn’t turn to face me, but she doesn’t need to. I can literally feel her eyes rolling.

  “It’s the truth.” She completely ignores me, which is fine. I have no problem talking to her back. It’s one fucking fine back, anyways. “My grandma had a birthday party for me at her retirement home. The make-up stain is from her, and while I can’t exactly place the lipstick, I can promise you that it was from a woman well over eighty years old.”

  She snorts, and spins around, staring down her nose at me. I can tell by the annoyed look on her face that she doesn’t believe a word of it. “You really expect me to believe that you were hanging out with elderly women last night? That’s a tall tale, even for you.”

  “Whatever, Willow.” I just stare back at her. “Believe it or don’t.”

  She doesn’t respond, returning to cleaning the living room without as much as another glance in my direction. I study her for longer than I should, my feet unwilling to move towards the door just yet. Her demeanor has me concerned. She hasn’t been acting like herself lately, for obvious reasons, of course, but I can’t stop wondering if there is more going on than I already know about.

  “Willow.” I rock back on my heels, studying her as she continues to ignore me. “Aside from, well, you know, is there something bothering you? You’re not usually this touchy. I’m…”

  Dare I say anything? Yes. Yes, I do fucking dare.

  “I’m worried about you. Is everything alright?”

  Her entire body sags, the bag in her hand dropping to the hardwood floor with another sickening thud. She continues to look away from me, so I can’t see the expression on her face. But I do hear the sadness in her voice when she does finally speak.

  “No, Jude, I’m not alright. My life is in complete shambles, and I’m beginning to think that this is going to be how I live the rest of my life.” Her one free arm motions around the living room as her head falls back. “I didn’t get the residency at UNC, which was a huge blow, but I figured I’d be ok, because I could still find one here. Turns out, I can, but I don’t have all of the requirements done.” As she turns slowly, and finally faces me, I see the devastation clear as day in her eyes. “The only way that I can get into the hospital here, is if I have twenty documented patients treated. Twenty geriatric patients, since the pediatric rotation is full. I’ve got the hours, and the right amount of patient experience, but mine are all on children, so they don’t count. There’s no way that I can make that happen, so I’m officially screwed. I’m going to be stuck living here with Wyatt, in hell, forever. This is my life.”

  Or maybe, it isn’t. Because I’m about to save the day, sweetheart.

  “What do you have to do with the twenty patients?”

  “A history and physical, medication teaching, and assessing their mobility and living situation. It’s impossible. I don’t know twenty elderly people, and there’s no way for me to get into a home on such short notice. They’d have to run a background check and…”

  “I can help you.”

  She frowns.

  “Jude, I’m serious. They have to be elderly women, not just the run of the mill skanks on your contact list. Elderly men would work too, but either way, how can you possibly be able to help me?”

  “I’ve got…” My voice trails off as Willow’s eyes lock with mine. What I do for the twenty women in my life, is something that I mostly keep private. I don’t blast it on my social media, I don’t talk about it with reporters, and I sure as hell don’t do it for bragging rights. It just feels good to help them, and so, I do. I could tell Willow what I’ve done, and perhaps, even get treated a little bit better by her. But I’d rather earn her affection, instead of her immediate attention. And so, I do what feels wrong, but works in the moment. I lie right to her face.

  “I have a friend who owns a retirement community. I could make a call, and get you started there right away. As it turns out, there are exactly twenty residents.”

  “Jude!” The bag drops from her hand again, and this time, the glass inside cuts through and the contents spills out. She doesn’t even give it a second glance. “Seriously? If you could do that for me, I would owe you. Hell, I’ll even be nice to you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” I study the sudden change in her expression and store it to my memory bank of my favorite Willow moments. “But I will hold you to the being nicer to me part. Sometimes, your words fucking sting.”

  “Deal.”

  10

  Willow

  Wow. That’s all that I have to say.

  When I pulled into the parking lot of the address that Jude had given me, I had to do a double take. This does not look like any assisted living center that I have ever been to, in fact, it looks more like a resort than an old folks’ home.

  For starters, it’s built on lake front property. There is a pool and more tiny homes than I can even count. Each tiny home has a covered sidewalk that leads directly to the large building sitting in the center like a hub. The sidewalk that leads me from the parking lot to the front door is warm underneath my feet.

  I’ve never in my life experienced a heated walkway before, and I can promise you that I would have never guessed that a home for the elderly would be the place I would find one.

  I open the door and am immediately in awe. Skylights cover the ceiling. The entire back wall is composed of floor to ceiling windows, and from this angle, a small portion of the lake is visible. Off to the side is a large living space, with a stone fireplace that travels all of the way up to the ceiling. Two large sectionals sit right in front of the fireplace, which is currently lit and heating the room. Behind that is a long wooden table with over twenty chairs.

  I blink a few times, trying to take it all in. It’s at that exact moment that Jude walks around the corner.

  The air leaves my lungs in a rush the second that I see his face. He’s not dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt, which takes me off guard. He’s always gorgeous, but today, the way that he looks makes my heart kick up enough notches that I instantly feel dizzy.

  His gray chino slacks hang low on his waist, and the white button up shirt strains against
his thick shoulders. The scruff that was present on his chin this morning is gone, and his hair is still slick from a shower.

  “Oh, honey.” The most adorable little woman that I’ve ever seen comes barreling around the corner, her walker nearly on two wheels. “Pick your chin up off of the floor. Jude here already knows that he’s devilishly handsome. But if you keep staring at him like that, he’s going to get an even bigger head. I work really hard to keep that man in his place.”

  I immediately like her.

  “I can appreciate that.” I shrug out of my jacket, hanging it up on the coat tree in the foyer before stepping closer to the woman. “Jude can get a little full of himself.”

  “Hey now, Willow.” His smile is wide, even as he tries to scold me. “You promised that you were going to be nicer to me. I’m expecting that to start soon, otherwise, I’m going to have some seriously hurt feelings.”

  “Oh, please.” The woman rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a pussy, Jude. I’m Gwen.” She extends her hand to mine, which I immediately take. “You can call me Gwen, you can call me Grandma Gwen, or you can call me Gigi. I’ll answer to any of them. I do believe that I’m going to be your first patient of the day. It was supposed to be Martha, but she’s floating around, probably flashing her boobies. That woman is a mess. She really needs a shrink more than anything else.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jude’s dark skin pales. “Please tell me that you’re joking about Martha. We talked about it yesterday. She promised she was done flashing people.”

  Gwen rolls her eyes.

  “She’s a floozy. She ain’t changing until she gets some sausage. Do you like sausage?” When she looks up at me, at first, I’m confused. But when I realize what she’s asking me, I feel my cheeks flush at the same time that my eyes widen. “Or are you another one of those kitty lovers? I’ll never understand it, myself. Why would you give up a nice, thick piece of meat for a taco? Makes no damn sense at all. I worry about your generation.”

  I stare between Gwen and Jude. He looks like he would prefer for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Gwen looks completely undisturbed by her questions and is patiently waiting for my answer.

  “Ah.” I nibble nervously on my lower lip. “I’m a sausage kind of girl?”

  “Good.” Gwen makes a beeline for the sitting room. “Then, I’ll talk to you. I can’t be having you checking me over unless I’m sure that you’re not going to try and steal my goodies.”

  Oh, my God. As a slight laugh escapes my lips, Jude just groans.

  “Willow, I’m sorry. I should have warned you that the twenty women I could deliver you, also happen to be the twenty dirtiest ones on this planet.”

  Dirty or not, I’ll take them.

  At least, they’ll keep things interesting.

  I’ve officially assessed three of the twenty women, and so far, they’ve asked me more questions than I’ve been able to ask them. Each one asked me about my sexual preference, my favorite position, and the last time that I “got laid.” I feel like I’m on a bad talk show, getting drilled about the most personal details of my life, strictly for everyone else’s entertainment.

  It’s taking me much longer than I ever anticipated, and as the time continues to tick by, I realize that while Jude delivered me twenty women, I may not have enough time to get my work done.

  As the third woman rises to her feet and heads out of the room, I fall back against the throw pillows behind me and rub my temples. My head is pounding, and my mind is weary. When I hear movement across from me, I immediately cringe.

  For once, I’m happy to see that it’s Jude now sitting across from me. At least he’s not going to ask me about my sexual preferences or last encounter.

  Because he already knows.

  “I’m a little bit worried that your friend is running a sex shop.” At my joke, he grunts.

  “You’re telling me. These women are completely nuts.” But then, his face softens as he smiles. “At least they at least keep life interesting.”

  I don’t doubt that for a second. I haven’t laughed this hard in a while, and for that, I’m grateful. While each woman fired questions at me that I wasn’t prepared for, they were still each equally sweet and made being here significantly more fun than I had originally anticipated.

  “This is unlike any assisted living facility that I have ever been to.” I still can’t get over how beautiful it is in here. It’s puzzling to me how these women can afford to live here. The first two that I assessed are on fixed incomes. The last one has a pension from her husband on top of her social security, so she’s doing better than the others. Still though, living here has to be expensive.

  “It’s a retirement village,” he corrects me, smiling wide. “And they should all be like this, in my opinion. The ladies that live here deserve all of this.”

  I don’t doubt that, nor do I argue with him. I agree that all elderly people deserve to live in places like this, but unfortunately, most of them can’t afford it.

  During one of my early rotations in medical school, we had to do a six week stint in a nursing home. Being inside of that place broke my heart. I wanted to take every single resident home with me and treat them with the love and compassion that they deserved. Of course, I couldn’t do that, since I don’t even have the means to support myself right now. But if I won the lottery, this is how I would spend it. I would build a place like this for the elderly, and then, I’d build an identical place for families with sick kids to stay during treatments. I’d have zero regrets with giving all of my money up for the greater good of humanity.

  “So, your friend owns this place?”

  Jude nods, shifting in his seat.

  “He built this place, for twenty elderly women?”

  Again, he nods. “Yeah. There’s actually room for twenty two right now, with space to build more houses. Unfortunately, though, my friend is having a hard enough time dealing with the twenty currently living here, for obvious reasons.” We both laugh.

  “Is your friend single?” I joke, to which, Jude’s entire demeanor changes. His eyes flash, and then, they lock on mine. “Yeah, he is.” He studies my face. “Why, are you in the market for a man, Willow?”

  A week ago, I wasn’t. Last week, if he would have asked me this question, I would have beamed and shoved my left hand in his face and let him admire the beautiful ring that the man of my dreams had placed on it. Now, my hand is bare, my heart shattered, and my head a freaking mess. I’m not in the market for anything right now, but I force a smile and try to look at ease.

  “For a man who would build a place like this out of the goodness of his heart?” I snort. “Ah, yeah, Masters. That’s like, every woman’s fantasy.”

  He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, a tiny black cat darts across the room, and then out of nowhere, a redheaded woman comes screeching through the front door, wearing just a thin slip, with one, giant boob hanging out of the side.

  “Shit. Pussy? Where’d you go?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jude mutters. “It never fucking ends.”

  “You still didn’t see a cat, Juju!” The woman hurries by us, her boob still flapping in the wind. “It’s a figment of your imagination!”

  His eyes close as he shakes his head. “The cat, I can overlook. The boob?” His head just falls. “That’s going to haunt me for a long fucking time.”

  “So, are you and Juju…” The dark haired woman across from me wiggles her eyebrows, not so subtly glancing between Jude and I. Jude answers, even though she was asking me.

  “No, Irma. We’re not.”

  Normally, I can’t stand liars, but in this case, I appreciate it. I was going to call it a day, and head home to write up my report on the three women that I saw today, but then Grandma Gwen convinced me to stay for dinner. She taunted me with the hope of getting to assess a few more of the women after we ate, and since I’d really like to complete my work here, I wholeheartedly agreed. I had no idea what I was signin
g up for. If I thought that the three women that I met earlier today were prying into my personal life too much, I couldn’t have imagined twenty of them doing it at the same time. Holy shit, is my head spinning.

  “Ok, but have you ever? If you have, you should own it, and share the details. Juju is a fox. If I were younger, I’d keep that man tied up in my bed all day long. You know, and use him as my own personal playground.”

  “Irma,” Jude groans. “I’m right here. And that is disturbing.”

  The way that Jude blushes fiercely is actually adorable. I can’t even believe that I’m thinking that anything about him is adorable, and yet, here we are.

  “Don’t let him fool you.” Irma rolls her eyes. “He’s not as vanilla as he tries to pretend that he is. Last night he got the lap dance of his life, and he had the nerve to act like he was embarrassed by it. We all know that Jude’s a closet freak, he just won’t own it.”

  I stare at Jude, as the air between us shifts. He gives me an I told you so look, his mouth setting into a smug smile. Never in a million years did I think that his story about the lipstick marks on his neck was true, but now, I’m beginning to believe that it was. There he goes, shocking the hell out of me again.

  My mouth waters, as Jude’s eyes travel from mine, trailing down my neck. Scorching heat radiates off of him and slams into my skin, causing that unwelcome ache in between my legs, to begin to throb. What is wrong with me?

  I’m letting Jude Masters make a mess of me, for no other reason than I’m currently a complete train wreck. If BJ wouldn’t have broken my heart, I wouldn’t even be entertaining these types of feelings.

  Fuck a duck.

  I pull my eyes away from his and shove all thoughts of him to the back of my mind. I’ll deal with those later, when I’m far away from him.

  I busy myself eating my dinner, which is fucking amazing, by the way. According to Jude, the women take turns helping in the kitchen and prepare all of the meals as a group. Tonight’s menu consists of chicken cordon bleu, with homemade hollandaise sauce, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and freshly baked bread. It reminds me of a dinner that my grandmother would have made us for Sunday dinner, and it makes me a bit nostalgic. Every bite is better than the last, and it’s certainly better than one of the frozen meals that I would have heated up for myself at home.