No Touch Zone (Saints of Love Book 2)

by Elizabeth Perry

  Usually, I make dinner for both Wyatt and I, but since he’s spent the entire day in bed, sleeping off his hangover, I would have just been cooking for myself, which would have been pointless. I’m really glad that I stayed here, even though, I would like it a lot more if these women stopped questioning me on my sex life. If my body could also stop reacting to Jude, that would be better, also.

  “So, I’m curious.” I take a sip of the wine in front of me, which I was told immediately by Gwen, is only allowed at dinner time and is limited to one glass due to medication issues, “How exactly did this place come about? And where do you fall in all of it?”

  Silence falls around us, which is strikingly odd, since it’s the first quiet that’s been in this room all day long. All of the women’s heads turn towards Jude, who looks oddly uncomfortable by my question.

  “What?” I glance around the table. “You guys can ask me about my sex life, but I can’t ask any questions of my own?”

  “Sex questions are important.” Irma pipes in. “A person’s sex life says a lot about them. It’s their own personal story, you know?”

  Jude must have a library, then.

  “My friend started this place because he visited a nursing home once, and it broke his heart to see how these women were living. They were too weak to live at home but way too with it to be there. He already owned this land, he actually planned on building his own house on it. But then, his plans changed.”

  “So, he did all of this, built this entire place, all with his very own money?”

  Jude just nods.

  “And you all live here, for free?”

  “Well…” Gwen glances at Jude before her eyes land on me. “Sort of. We each rent our houses, for two hundred dollars a month.”

  “Two hundred dollars a month?” I’m stunned. The apartment that I lived in during my undergrad college years was over a thousand dollars a month, and it was a shit hole.

  “Highway robbery, right?” Gertrude, the redhead whom I have already seen too much of mutters, and then, glares at Jude. “If you could get a message to the owner, could you please tell him that if I’m a paying tenant, I should be allowed to have a cat?” She rolls her eyes towards me. “The owner can be a real dick sometimes.”

  I watch Martha sink in her seat, and then, I hear Gertrude yelp. I have no doubt, that she was just kicked.

  “Two hundred dollars a month is all that you pay, to live here?” I stare around the place in awe. “And yet, you have access to medical care, you have a stylist that comes in once a week…”

  “Every two weeks.” Gwen corrects me.

  “Ok, every two weeks, you live on a lake, have a private pool, are fed three delicious meals a day and have your own private residence?”

  They all nod their heads.

  “Why would your friend do all of this?” I just stare across the table at Jude. “He has to be paying a shitload of money out of his own pocket.”

  “He’s got money to burn.” He shrugs, aimlessly moving his fork around his plate. “Plus, he doesn’t really have a family, and these women became his, and now he wants to take care of them. I’m in the same boat, and I feel the same way, which is why I help out here when I can.”

  “I have a hard time believing that you are friends with someone like that.” I snort and am almost immediately met with twenty sets of angry eyes. I hold my hands up.

  “I didn’t mean that the way that it came out, I’m just saying, I mean…” I’m back peddling like a mother fucker at this point. “I’ve seen the kind of people you hang out with, Jude.” My brother included. “None of them would ever do something like this.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t judge people so harshly, Willow,” Jude’s eyes are hot on mine, “you’d see that there really is more to people than you think there is.”

  “Oh, damn.” Irma stares down at her plate with wide eyes. “I think he just told you.”

  I think he did, too.

  11

  Jude

  Normally, I’d be feeling bummed over my decision to forgo a last minute trip with the boys, but today, I really can’t find it in me. Wyatt and Declan decided to take a spur of the moment trip to Vegas, which normally would be right up my alley. During the off season, we all try to cram as much fun in as possible, and even a short trip to Vegas is always a damn good time.

  But I promised Willow that I’d help her this week, and while she could just show up here by herself, I didn’t feel right about leaving her all alone to fend off the wolves. Obviously, the wolves in this story are twenty elderly women, but their bite can still be vicious. Plus, their mouths are huge.

  The last thing that I need is for one of them to slip up and tell Willow the truth about this place, and most importantly, my role here. It’s obvious that she’s made up her mind about me. She doesn’t let a moment pass without trying to put me in my place. I’ve given her the arsenal, and she’s fired all of the shots. There’s no point in trying to sway her opinion of me.

  Her mind is made up.

  Unfortunately, I can’t seem to get my mind off of her, and most importantly, off of that night. Every time that I look at her, I remember exactly what it felt like, being buried inside of her body. I remember the way that she sounded, the way that her face looked as she climaxed, and most importantly, the way that I felt in that moment.

  I was a college football star, winning the Rose Bowl for my team my freshman year of college. My fucking freshman year. I’ve played in the Superbowl, scoring the winning touchdown in the final ten seconds of the game, when we were down by five points. And even still, none of those moments can even hold a candle to the way that I felt the moment I entered Willow’s body that night. Not even close.

  Which honestly, has me a bit spun out. I don’t like feeling this way about her, for obvious reasons. Number one? She’s my best friend’s little sister, which means that she is off fucking limits. No question there, Wyatt would murder me with his bare hands if he found out about what I did with Willow in Chicago. I mean, he asked me to protect her, and I agreed.

  Sleeping with her was never in the plans, nor did I ever imagine that it would have happened. Have I always had a hard on for Willow? Hell yes, I have. But I knew that she was off limits, and I follow the bro code religiously. At least I did, until shit hit the fan between us.

  I’d like to blame it on the booze, but even I know that I can’t do that. The second that Willow’s lips landed on mine, there was no turning back. It was like a match had been thrown into the puddle of gasoline that had been dripping out of me since the first moment I laid eyes on her. Once the fire ignited, that was it. It was over for me.

  And now, there’s no coming back from it.

  Pushing to change her mind about me would result in me losing my best friend. And since I know that the end result would still be Willow ending up with someone else, I can’t allow myself to do that. Wyatt is my right hand man, my confidant, my side kick for basically, the last four years of my life. He’s the only person that I’ve ever really let in, the one who knows me, beyond the lights and cameras.

  Plus, the simple fact remains. In no way do I fucking deserve her.

  I’ve lived life hard, in the fast lane, so to speak. I’ve partied like the end of the world is coming, and I’ve done a hell of a lot of things that I’m not proud of. I haven’t been trustworthy in any relationship that I’ve ever been in, and every woman that’s stayed with me for more than a night has had two things in common. They’ve left with a pure hatred for me, and I broke their hearts.

  But even still, as I watch her walk through the door today, my heart does a flip in my chest. And, per usual, my dick immediately takes notice of her, swelling uncomfortably in my pants.

  She doesn’t see me at first, which is a good thing, since it takes me a full fifteen seconds to catch my breath and get the fluttering in my chest under control. But just as I think that I’m in the clear, and my drooling has gone unnoticed, I glance up and see that Gigi
has turned around on the couch and is watching me intently. A knowing look flashes in her eyes right before she glances over to Willow.

  “Are you back to pester us some more?” She clears her throat loudly. “Or are you just here to see Jude?”

  “Jude?” Willow’s eyes finally travel up to where I’m still standing, frozen in place in the doorway that leads into my very small office. “Oh.” Her eyebrows shoot up in question. “I didn’t expect you to be here, today. Wyatt told me that you were heading to Vegas with him and Dec.”

  “Nah.” Our eyes lock as I shrug. “I took a raincheck on Vegas. I figured that you could use my help here, calming down some of the questions.” I move my eyes away from Willow, focusing on Gigi and staring at her hard. “It should be better today. The women discussed it last night and decided to be a little more PG with you.”

  “You decided that.” Gigi just returns my stare, completely uninterested in the signals that I’m trying to send her. “You told us we had to play nice and that we had to stop pestering Dr. Willow with personal questions. We said that we would lighten up. You ok with that, dear? We’re just nosy old women, and Jude here never shares stuff with us. We like to be in the know.”

  “I’m fine with your questions.” The way that Willow beams at the old woman makes my heart swell even bigger in my chest for her. God broke the mold with her, there’s no doubt about that. She’s the perfect combination of sweetness, sin, and beauty. “Fair is fair. I have questions for you, so I’m ok with you asking questions about me. Any idea who is up first today?”

  As if on cue, Martha walks through the door.

  “I’ve got exactly one hour before my man clocks in, so you had better be quick with the questions, doctor.”

  I immediately grimace. Poor fucking Jose.

  It’s just after six o’clock by the time that Willow wraps up her meetings with the ladies. In just over twenty four hours, she managed to get eleven of the twenty women completed, and is practically beaming as we head out for the day, towards the parking lot, at the same time.

  “You survived another day on the crazy train.” I nudge her gently, the sound of her laughter filling up the quiet night air surrounding us.

  “I did.” She glances up at me, smiling so widely that her two adorable dimples are present on her face. “Today was far less painful than yesterday was. I got to do most of the talking today, instead of the other way around. Thanks for that, by the way. I’m sure that was all on you.”

  I shrug her compliment off. I did talk to the women, but Lord knows they’re all going to do whatever they want, anyways. If anyone here deserves thanking, it’s Gigi, who must have really drilled my meeting with them into their heads. I may own this place, but Gigi runs the show, that’s for damn sure. If we were the mob, she’d be the kingpin. No question about that.

  “So, is your residency going to be a go, then?” I nod towards the leather messenger bag over her shoulder, containing all of the work that she’s done here over the last day. The work that she’s had to answer slews of embarrassing questions to obtain.

  She sighs.

  “Nothing will be definite until I have all twenty of the women completed. But so far, it looks promising. I guess that’s all that I can go on right now. I have everything else completed, I just have to hope for the best. At least, second best. I really wanted to be at UNC Children’s Hospital, but at this point, I’ll just be happy to have a place to land.”

  “You deserved that spot in Cali, Willow.” I reach down, resting my hand on her shoulder and squeezing. She immediately freezes under my touch, and my hand instinctively drops. “I’m sorry for the way that things worked out.”

  As her eyes turn up to mine, the night air shifts around us. When her lips curve into a smile, my heart expands in my chest. My God, she has the most beautiful smile that I’ve ever seen.

  “I did deserve it.” She sighs, and then pulls her eyes away from mine. “But if I end up getting the residency here, I’m going to make it my bitch.” Determination floods her features, and I immediately smile.

  “Damn right you will.” I open her door for her, but instead of climbing inside of her car, she pauses. “So, are you done here for the night, too? Or are you staying and eating dinner with the ladies?” As she wiggles her eyebrows, I roll my eyes.

  “Ah, no. Last night’s dinner was enough.” It actually still makes me cringe, remembering all of the things that were said. “I’ve got a hot date with a tray of tacos and a tray of burritos. A friend of mine used to own a restaurant on Fifth and Lloyd downtown. They went out of business, but they still let me…”

  “Wait.” She grabs a hold of my wrist, causing an unwelcome rush of emotions to race through me. “Are you talking about El Dorante?”

  “You’ve been…”

  “Omigod.” Her entire face lights up. “Yes. I even shed a few tears when they closed. Their burritos are like Heaven. Can I… I mean, it’s rude of me to even ask since you didn’t offer, but are you feeling generous and wanting to share?”

  Say no.

  My brain is screaming at me to shut her down. The last thing that I need is to spend any more time with Willow, today.

  Tell her to go home, far away from you, where she belongs.

  “You want to eat dinner, with me?” My inner devil has taken over, and he’s even wiggling his eyebrows. “If I didn’t know any better, Willow, I’d dare say that you’re just trying to get me alone.”

  Shut up, Jude. Shut the fuck up and stop flirting with her.

  “I’m not.” She matches my stare, and even has the audacity to smirk at me. “I’m just trying to snatch some of your food.”

  “I guess you should follow me home, then. Only to steal some of my burritos, though.” Fuck. This is not a good idea at all.

  “I’m not just going to steal some of your burritos, Jude.” You’re right, you’re not. You’re also going to steal my heart, babe. “I’m taking some tacos, too.”

  12

  Willow

  I’ll be honest, the more that I learn about Jude, the more that I’m puzzled. Here is this guy, this gorgeous, seemingly full of himself superstar football player, who I know for certain just signed a three year, forty million dollar contract with the Minnesota Saints, and I’m standing in the kitchen of his maybe two hundred thousand dollar ranch home, just outside of the suburbs.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. The house is beautiful, and the furnishings are both masculine and expensive. But, come on, the guy is not only a football legend, he’s richer than sin. And his house looks like any average Joe off of the streets.

  For example, look at the place that I live right now. My brother, Wyatt, while an outstanding football player, also signed a contract with the Saints last year, for about three quarters of Jude’s. The house that I live in is almost eight thousand square feet, perched on the top of a hill, hidden behind a tall, black, wrought iron fence. We have an outdoor pool with a waterfall, an indoor pool that I don’t swim in, considering the things that I hear happening down there, a built in sauna, and a masseuse who comes over three times a week, who I’m pretty sure, also sleeps with my brother on the side.

  I’m not sure what I expected out of Jude’s home, but this is definitely not it. There aren’t half naked women frolicking around an indoor pool topless. There isn’t even an indoor pool here. While the house screams bachelor pad, it’s in no way the romp house that I had pictured. It throws me for a loop, just like everything else I’ve learned about the guy.

  For starters, he’s not partying it up in Vegas right now with Wyatt and Declan, which would normally be his MO. Instead, he spent yet another day around twenty elderly women, and blushed fiercely at least once an hour over the things that were said to him. He lives in normal house, in a normal neighborhood, when clearly, he is not a normal guy. The only part of this that makes him seem like the superstar that he is, is the fact that I am now shoveling my face full of El Dorante burritos, when I know damn well that the owner d
ied, and the place went out of business. That’s the only miracle I’ve seen happen at this guy’s hands.

  I lean back on my barstool that sits perched around the massive island in his kitchen, dropping my fork onto my plate.

  “That’s it.” My stomach is so full that I consider popping the top button on my pants but then immediately decide against it. The last time that I popped my top button around Jude, my pants ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor. “I’m calling it. If I eat another bite, I’m going to get sick.”

  Three massive burritos and four tacos far exceeded my limit, but I just couldn’t stop myself. Every bite brought on a food orgasm, and now, I’m spent.

  Jude just grins, glancing down at my plate.

  “My grandma would have called that a happy plate.” I chuckle at the empty plate in front of me, that I all but licked clean. “She would have liked you, Willow. You’re not afraid to get down on a plate of food.”

  Some women might feel ashamed of eating like a piglet in front of a man like Jude, but I can’t really find it in me to care. I like food, dammit, and I’ve never been the type to try to hide that. I mean, I care about my figure, but I also love food. If I have to work out an extra thirty minutes in order to mow down a plate of burritos, then I’m going to do that. With zero fucks given.

  “Would have?” I stare across the island at the man in front of me. “How long ago did she pass away?”

  “It’s been years.” The change in his demeanor is evident, even though, if I weren’t staring directly at him, I might not have noticed the shift. His eyes darken just enough for me to know that this is a subject that he’s uncomfortable speaking about.