by Brynne Asher
“What about your mom? What was she like?”
“My mom was amazing.” I can’t help but smile thinking of her. Jude comes closer as I go on. “She taught math at my high school, I guess that’s why I’m good with numbers. She was always quizzing me on something. She was petite, light blonde and fair, but I have her eyes. She grew up in Georgia—southern through and through. She instilled all her southern manners and hospitality in me, that’s for sure. My parents met at Baylor in Waco and the way my mom always explained it, they fell in love instantly, although my dad insisted he had to work for it. She said she had to love him to leave the south. She always gave him a hard time about winters in Nebraska, but she would have moved anywhere for him.”
“She was pretty,” he states.
“I think so.” What else is there to say?
“I’ve seen pictures around your house. You look like your mom, but you got your dad’s coloring. Your mom’s pretty, Gabby, but you got the best of both your parents, which makes you fucking beautiful.”
“What?” I whisper.
“And it’s not just your hair or bright eyes or your gorgeous face,” he goes on and my eyes get bigger as I try to take a small step back, but he grabs my waist, pulling me into him tight. Both of his arms round my back, one high and the other low. “It’s the way you are with your family, the little kids and your parents stuff. It’s that you’re so funny it’s cute because you don’t mean to be funny. It’s that you’re an accountant, but you’re not, you’re a decorator, and that’s just ridiculous. It’s the way you talk about the people you care about, especially your parents and how you’re strong and manage what life has handed you by yourself.”
“I’m not by myself,” I lie. I feel so alone some days I’m overflowing with it.
“No. You’re not,” he affirms with a squeeze and a meaning so deep I can’t even begin to think about it. “But what you are is beautiful and it’s a beauty I haven’t experienced in a really long time.”
With that, he pulls me up and his mouth is on mine, his tongue plunging instantly and my arms quickly round his shoulders trying to get as close as I can. There have been kisses since our first, but this one is different. It’s instantly out of control and his hands go to my ass, hefting me up where I immediately wrap my legs around his waist, tangling my hands in his hair. I feel him move, and then all of a sudden, we’re going down. Jude sits on a piece of my sectional that’s been taken apart and strewn across the basement, me in his lap straddling his waist. His big warm hands dip under my Baylor Bears green tank and move up the bare skin of my back.
Losing the control I’ve been holding onto the last couple days, forgetting I was scared and freaked by Jude’s invasion in my life, I grab the hem of his t-shirt giving it a pull. He lets go of me to round his back, putting his arms up for me to yank his shirt off. I toss the tee aside, sit back, and look down at a tattoo on his left peck.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
My fingers reach out and I finally get to touch his muscular chest, skin to skin. He’s warm and feels good. He has a smattering of chest hair, but not too much, with solid muscles under smooth skin. I run my fingers over his tat, some type of wings—airplane wings—with a crest in the middle. My eyes go back to his face where he’s staring at me, his eyes searing into me.
I find myself breathing hard, but also at a loss for words, so of course I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “It’s not ridiculous that I’m a decorator.”
His eyes flare and his mouth barely tips at the corners when he mutters, “Fuck.”
He grabs the hem of my ribbed tank and before I know it, it’s gone and we’re both up and off the sofa. He turns and I’m on my back in mere seconds, his mouth returning to mine. Melting into his kiss, my hands roamed his strong, hard back as I spread my legs for his hips to fall between. I feel him, excited and hard, pressing and grinding between my legs. His lips leave my mouth and travel my jaw and neck, heading straight for the swell of my breasts above my pink lace bra. I start getting lost in it all, feeling the wetness surge between my legs, arching my back in hopes to get closer to him as his tongue snakes out and traces my heated skin just above my bra. His hand comes up to cup my other breast and he runs the pad of his thumb over the lace covering my nipple making me gasp. Then I feel a thumb and a finger come together with just enough pressure for a delicious roll. It’s so good, I lift my hips to get more contact between my legs where I want it most.
But cutting into all the goodness, a voice yells from upstairs, “Gabby!”
Jude stops and his eyes shoot to mine as we both still.
“Gabby!” Tony yells for me.
“Holy shit,” I whisper-repeat, at the same time he whisper-repeat, “Fuck.”
Jude, who’s wearing an angry scowl, puts his hands on each side of me, performing a push up from the sectional, grabbing my hand to yank me up with him. Standing here in my shorts and pink bra, he tosses me my tank as he tags his shirt from the floor.
“Gabby, where are you?” Tony yells again.
“Down—” my voice scrapes and I have to clear my throat. “Down here.” I pull my tank over my head, trying to right my clothes and fix my pony tail. “We’re moving stuff around.”
Jude comes closer to me looking straight in my eyes and leans down to kiss me softly and just as softly rasps, “Beautiful.”
“Ohmygoodness,” I say as I hear Tony tromping down my stairs.
I take a step back and try and get my wits about me at the same time Tony gets louder with each step. “It’s Monday Night Football, even though it’s preseason the first couple of quarters are still good, I figured Jude would be around again so I thought we could watch the game here.”
He said the last word as he took the last step, then stills to stare at us. I don’t know what he sees, but it feels as if I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar, only a million times worse. He looks to Jude, then at me before raising a brow. “Or I could go watch with dad.”
That’s when I feel an arm snake around me going across my upper chest and I’m pulled into Jude’s hard one where he holds me tight. My eyes get big not really knowing what to say, so I go with, “I’ll make popcorn.” Tony grins at the same time I feel Jude’s arm tighten around me further.
“Really, I can go,” Tony repeats.
“No, no,” I exclaim, feigning enthusiasm. “I just made homemade salsa and I have chips left. Popcorn, salsa, and chips. And I’ve got beer.”
I twist my neck as best I can and give Jude a fake smile. He narrows his eyes, shaking his head no, but mutters, “Sounds good.”
I turn back to Tony. “See? I’ll go get the beer.”
I try my best to get out of Jude’s ironman hold, but he doesn’t allow it until he leans down, kissing the side of my head. I close my eyes, only to find Tony staring at us when I open them. Giving him a small smile as Jude finally lets me go, I hightail my ass up the stairs as fast as I can to set about making popcorn and gathering drinks. I hope beer and popcorn are a special potion, making weird situations less weird.
A few moments later, Tony and Jude tromp up the stairs as I pull the popcorn off the burner, Tony saying, “We’re gonna have to watch up here, it’s a mess down there.”
“Good idea,” I agree, as if I’m going to argue. I really don’t want to sit with my favorite cousin and my … well, whatever Jude is … on the same sectional that I was just half naked on with Jude. That would bring things to a whole new level of weird.
I get everyone fitted with beer and popcorn, arranging the chips and salsa out on my super cool, very beat up coffee table. Tony settles in the club chair stretching his feet out on the ottoman and Jude collapses in the corner of the sofa, pulling me down next to him. He slouches, lifting his feet to my cool coffee table, puts an arm around my shoulders and tucks me in tight. I almost start to argue but really, it’s seriously comfortable. I sigh, take a swig of my beer and settle in to watch preseason football that I don’t give one
care about.
My thoughts come back to present time and I look over at Reagan, telling her about my previous evening. She’s sitting there with her mouth hanging open.
“I know, right? And now, as one of my best friends in the universe, you know all there is to know.”
“So, what happened after football?”
“I fell asleep around half time, Tony said goodbye and Jude told me to go to bed, slept on my sofa again.”
“Is he coming back tonight?” she keeps on with the questions.
“I don’t know. That’s the thing, we never make plans, he just comes back every evening and leaves the next morning. I assume he goes home, showers, changes, goes to work, and does whatever else he does, and then he’s back again.”
“What does his tattoo mean?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m dying to find out. I’ll let you know.” I smile and wiggle my eyebrows at her. “I think I’m done. There’s really no drying with the wax, you’re good to go. It’s so pretty.” I admire my handiwork.
“Gabby, you’re awesome. It’s beautiful and just what I wanted.”
“Go buy your table, Reagan. It’ll look great in here.”
“We’re going this weekend. I can’t wait,” she says with excitement.
I gather all my stuff and pull my phone out to text Jude. This is the newest thing he’s been bossy about. He’s still concerned about Trevor Harper and said they don’t have any leads on him, although they haven’t heard much more about me on the wiretaps, which is a really good thing. He said he wants to know where I am all the time, so now I have to text him when I leave somewhere and when I arrive. He really wanted me to go and hang out at the law firm or with one of my aunts, but I refused to sit around, telling him I have work to do. Texting was as good as he was going to get.
“I’ll see you soon, Reagan, we need to find a time to go out when John isn’t on call.” I say.
“I can’t wait, I haven’t been out in forever. I’ll call Lilly and Leigh and we’ll set it up,” she says as I lean down to kiss baby Ben on his soft head that smells like yummy baby.
“Perfect.” I smile and turn to my car.
It’s early afternoon, so I head to Target to for groceries. I’ve only been here for twenty minutes when my phone rings and when I see the caller, I sigh. “Hey, Lilly.”
“Tonight!” she exclaims, planning my evening again. “Reagan just called. You’ve obviously had a busy few days and there’s shit I need to know. Leigh can’t go, that jackwad of a husband has other plans for her. I’m worried about her, but until we’ll get Leigh figured out we figure you out. Bonefish at seven and you can share over Raspberry Vodka Collins. Lots of them,” she adds with enthusiasm. “It’ll be great! John’s not on call, he’s gonna take us and we can Uber home.”
“I don’t know, Lilly, I might have plans tonight.” I think about what my plans might be after last night. I stop my cart dead in the middle of the cereal aisle and it occurs to me Jude might have plans that include lulling me into another Jude coma, which seem to always make me okay with his plans. I change my mind immediately. “You know what? I’m hungry for the Salmon Asparagus Salad and I could use a couple of those drinks. Sounds like fun to me.”
“Yay!” she cheers. “Be ready at six forty-five, the minivan will be by to pick you up.”
“See you then,” I say hanging up.
I look down at my phone and decide to do something I’ve never done before. I’ve been texting Jude on a normal basis, but for some reason calling seems different, more familiar. Trying to pull it together, I hit call and put the phone to my ear, half-praying I get his voice mail.
Of course, I do not.
Answering on the second ring, he simply rasps, “Sugar.” Hearing his voice over the phone calling me sugar makes me freeze. He really sounds great over the phone. I hesitate a couple beats before I hear him again, this time biting out, “Gabby, are you there? You okay?”
“I’m here. Sorry. Fine. I’m fine,” I ramble. “I got distracted for a second. Um, I’m at Target and got a call from Lilly who got a call from Reagan and they’ve planned a girl’s night tonight. See, Lilly is pretty persistent, even though I can still say no to her. But Reagan has a baby and her husband’s on call a lot. It’s harder for her to get out, but she can go tonight. I don’t know what…I mean, if we had plans…well, if you had plans…” I pull in a big breath and try to finish strong. “Anyway, I’ve got girl’s night tonight?”
Damn. I totally did not finish strong.
“Sounds good, I’ll wait on you,” he returns quickly.
“You’ll wait on me?”
“Yeah, at your house. You still shouldn’t stay alone and I’d like to see you even if it’s late.”
“Um, okay.”
“Works out, I think we have a few leads on Harper. I might be working late tonight anyway.”
“Oh. You know how to get in and everything, right? I mean if you get home … well, to my house before me?” I stammer on.
“Yeah, I know how to get in. You go and have fun.”
“Thanks.”
“See you tonight but keep texting me. And call if you need something.”
“Oh, okay.” With that, I hear him disconnect.
As I stand next to the Fruit Loops staring at my phone, I realize that it’s getting less scary all the time. Shaking off my latest Jude trance, thinking they’re so powerful they even work over the phone in the middle of Target, I head to the granola. I have an evening out to get ready for. With a smile spreading across my face, I make my way through the aisles quicker than normal to get myself home and start my getting ready to go out routine.
Happy, excited, and a little nervous, I didn’t realize until much later that I drove home, parked my car, got my things in, and finally let Mia do her thing without my chest tightening like it usually does. I reset my alarm, text Jude, and skipped off to my shower to get ready for a night out with friends.
Chapter Seven
If He Sang Everything He Said
“Its last call ladies. We’re already closed but the bartender stayed late for you. This is it—one more round?”
This came from our super cute and young waiter, Cody. I bet he’s barely old enough to serve our drinks. He’s been flirting all night, telling us about his muscle car he’s rebuilding and how it’s going be a chick magnet. Not surprisingly, the longer we’re here, the three of us agree more than ever that yes, indeed, his muscle car is definitely going to win him a boat load of chicks.
“One more round. I’m pumping and dumping tonight,” Reagan announces to young Cody, who probably has no idea what pumping and dumping means.
Lilly leans over so far she’s in danger of toppling out of the booth and whispers loudly, “She’s nursing, like, her baby. And we all want her baby to be smart when he grows up so he can drive muscle cars like you, Cody, and nail hot chicks because of his hot car. So, she has to ‘pump and dump,’” Lilly uses her fingers to make air quotes, “so he’s smart and not stupid because she fed him Raspberry Vodka Collins.” Lilly, happy with her explanation, smiles as if she’s just explained the meaning of life to young Cody before she all of a sudden has an epiphany. “We should get two rounds since they’re closing!”
Not knowing where my reasoning is coming from since I was way past my normal level of imbibing, I slur my words a bit. “I think one more’s enough for me. How ‘bout we get four and share the last one?”
“Perfect. We’ll take four!” Reagan agrees and Cody heads to the bar. He got quiet after Lilly explained how breasts are used for feeding small humans and not simply for the pleasure of the male population.
“I can’t believe we couldn’t find his tattoo on the internet,” I almost whine. Looking down at our brown paper tablecloth, I study the scribbles drawn by me trying to replicate Jude’s tattoo to share with my girlies. Then, even though they’ve never laid eyes on Jude’s tattoo, Lilly and Reagan try to correct me and start to draw their own imag
inary replicas. We’ve Googled it, taken pictures with our phones, and have even tried to upload it to some ‘Name That Tattoo’ website that Reagan was sure she thought existed because she saw an infomercial for it in the middle of the night when she was up nursing Ben. But, nada. Not one clue to his super cool, winged tattoo.
“Give it up on the tattoo, Gab.” Lilly waves her hand to me before she continues with a sly smile. “Maybe you’ll figure it out when you get to lick it.”
“Shut up.” I smile, beyond being embarrassed about anything at this point. “But I bet it tastes really good.” Lilly and Reagan agree with sage faces.
“Here’re your drinks, ladies, and I’m tabbing you out,” Cody says. “You’re calling a cab, right? I mean, I don’t want to have to wrestle you three down for your keys,” he adds, back to flirting.
“We’re Ubering it,” I exclaim.
Just then my phone, which is sitting on the table since it was being used as a Tattoo Recognition Device, starts crankin’ out All Summer Long by Kid Rock. We’ve all decided my iPhone, from this time forward, will be referred to as a Tattoo Recognition Device. I look down at my Tattoo Recognition Device, also known as the TRD, and it informs me that Jude Ortiz is calling.
“Oh shit. It’s Jude Ortiz,” I say, reading the screen of my TRD. “He’s never called me before.”
“Well he’s had his tongue down your throat and your shirt on the floor, you’re gonna miss the call. Answer the freakin’ TRD,” Reagan panics.
