by Lori Wilde
Easy-peasy.
Why was it so hard?
Once they were in the Mustang, Jude gave him directions to where they were going, and he recognized it as a hip new nightclub on the other side of town that Dirk frequented. It had, in fact, been the club where the four former frat boys had made their bet.
Jude’s choice of venues surprised him.
“Are you sure you want to go to The Loophole?” he asked.
“Sure, why not?” She said it almost too easily, as if her decision had been a calculated one but she didn’t want him to know it.
Or maybe he was reading things into her voice that weren’t there. Sometimes, his competitiveness made him a little paranoid, particularly in relationship to Dirk.
“The Loophole doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
“All the more reason to go. My ‘usual’ kind of place is nice and boring. Like Rocky’s. I’m ready to kick up my heels for real. You game to kick them with me?”
“I like Rocky’s,” he said, feeling a little defensive and not knowing why.
“Me too, but it’s the kind of place families hang out at. The Loophole is not.” She had a point. The Loophole was the antithesis to a family-friendly establishment.
“Have you ever been there?” he asked.
“No, but Dirk told me about it last night.”
That explained that.
Jude bebopped in her seat. “I can’t wait to boogie down with you.”
Twenty minutes later, feeling decidedly uneasy and braced for a wild night, Tom escorted her into the club.
Tom was right but Jude wasn’t about to admit it.
The Loophole was not her kind of place.
For one thing, it was so noisy on a Saturday night that conversation was nearly impossible. The funky DJ relentlessly blasted out tunes with suggestive lyrics and hard, driving beats. For another thing, sardines in a can were packed more loosely than people in the club. With this many people, there had to be some kind of fire code violation. People who, for the most part, were very scantily dressed for November.
She wished she could be more like those blithe souls who could express themselves so freely and not care about public opinion. Tom was right on that score too. She didn’t need to learn how to be wild—although teasing Tom last night by feigning interest in Dirk had been rather fun, especially since Dirk was in on the joke. She needed to learn how to stop caring what other people thought of her.
And that included Tom Brunswick.
By some miracle, he’d managed to find them a minuscule bistro table in a far corner. It was sticky with the drinks from the last occupants, but at least they didn’t have to stand in the madding crowd.
Jude took a deep breath and tried to settle down, but her stomach was in her throat. In theory, she wanted to cut loose, have fun, dance until closing time, and then take Tom back to her place and conspire for him to lose that bet.
Or at least that was the plan.
Eyeballing Tom from her peripheral vision, she’d never seen him looking more handsome. He was wearing a gray herringbone sport coat over dark-gray pleated trousers and a black knit shirt. He’d gotten a haircut, not short but stylish, and fragrant aftershave wafted around his freshly shaved face.
“Here, let me fix this,” she murmured and leaned in closer, playing the bold woman to the hilt. She reached up and adjusted the fold in his collar, letting her fingers graze the underside of his chin and linger lightly.
He made a low, barely perceptible grunt.
“There.” She smiled a bit smugly, patting his neck the way he’d patted her foot the night before. “Much better.”
He turned his shoulders away from her and scanned the crowd.
Sucking in a deep breath, she wondered if she’d overplayed her strategy.
Feeling a little insecure, Jude made a production of crossing her legs. She knew her ankles looked great in the red stilettos and hoped to snag his attention.
Tom waved to someone across the room. Apparently, he came here often enough to meet people. But of course, he was a man who liked bold women and this place was packed to the rafters with them.
Desperate to get some reaction from him, she found his leg under the table and rubbed her calf against his. If this didn’t thaw him... She slipped one shoe off and let her toe crawl up his leg.
“Here’s comes our waiter,” he said, pointing at someone carrying a tray surfing through the wave of undulating bodies.
And he moved his leg away.
Well, that was a slap in the face. She was practically throwing herself at him and he wasn’t reacting.
He wants to win that bet.
Hmm. This plan was going to be harder than she thought. Tom’s mother and aunts were right. His competitive streak ran just a little too deep. If she didn’t know the reason why he was resisting her, she might get a complex. While she wasn’t a bold woman by nature, she had enough healthy self-esteem to know when a man was attracted to her.
Tom was attracted.
Unless there was another reason that he’d just taken off his sports jacket and draped it over his lap.
Grinning, she upped the ante.
It was dark and they were in a secluded corner—as secluded as one could get in a sardine tin—and his sports jacket provided sufficient coverage for what she had in mind.
Daringly, Jude turned saucy. She kicked off her heels, freed her bare toes, and leaned forward.
Tom might love to win, but tonight, so did she.
Mustering all her courage, Jude lifted one leg and let her toes come to rest squarely on her target.
Tom was shocked!
And more.
Much more.
Her busy little toes burrowed against his zipper, causing more havoc than she could imagine. Oh no, no, no. He couldn’t have this. Not here. Not now. Not when his body ached for her. Craved her.
In self-defense, he caught her foot and moved it away fast.
“I’m getting a whiskey sour. What are you having?” It was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever said. At least, it felt that way under the circumstances.
He blamed himself. He was the one who’d told her not to care what other people thought of her.
Truth?
He hadn’t expected her to do it. You could just tell she was a people pleaser from way back, but now it seemed she was taking the old Ricky Nelson tune “Garden Party” to heart and was pleasing herself.
Which given a different time, different place, different conditions, he’d applaud her audacity.
But here, now, with the bet hanging over his head, Tom wasn’t at all sure how he felt about her toes in his lap. He’d thought he’d love it when she finally let herself fully be who she was.
Instead, he was…scared.
He was witnessing a shy introvert stepping fully into her sexual power and it made him so damn hard he could barely stand himself.
“Ginger ale,” Jude said.
He was so wrapped up in staring at her sexy lips that Tom had already forgotten the question he’d asked her. “Huh?”
“You do know ginger ale is the same price as alcoholic drinks, right?” the waiter asked Jude as he leaned over to put napkins on the sticky tabletop.
“Really?” Jude gave him a look that said pfft. “Why?”
The waiter shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I just work here.”
She frowned. “I don’t appreciate being pressured into drinking.”
“Lady, I don’t know what the problem is,” the waiter snapped. “Drink. Don’t drink. I don’t care. I was just trying to tell you that it costs the same to drink as it does not to.”
“Oh my goodness.” Jude brought both hands to her mouth. Even in the darkness, Tom could see her blush. “I’m so sorry. I was playing at being bold and it came out bitchy. That’s not the way I intended it. Please forgive me.”
“Gurrl.” The waiter waved an expressive hand. “Don’t worry about it. You’re a little ray of sunshine compared to a lot o
f our customers. That’s why I was so touchy. I just got bawled out by some lady who ordered the wrong drink but insisted I was in the wrong.”
“Not fair.”
“C’est la vie. So, just the ginger ale, hon?”
“Just the ginger ale.” Jude nodded and the waiter moved on.
Tom noticed she slipped a ten-dollar bill from her purse and left it on the table as a tip. He added a twenty and ten to cover the cost of their drinks. The Loophole wasn’t cheap.
Watching her navigate the terrain between nice and brazen was like watching a newborn baby deer trying to walk for the first time—all spindly legged and uncertain. He turned his head to hide his smile. He doubted that she would appreciate being compared to a fawn, and he didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her.
They people-watched for a few minutes, and then the DJ played a new hit song.
“Would you like to dance?” he shouted over the music.
She shook her head. “It’s too crowded.”
The waiter brought their drinks, saw the money, and pounced on it. “Thank you so much! You’re a doll! But don’t you want to run a tab?” He shifted his gaze to Tom when he asked his.
“This’ll do for now,” Tom said.
“Okay, I’ll circle back in a bit to check on you.” The waiter departed for the second time.
Tom didn’t know what to do. She thought it was too crowded to dance and she wasn’t drinking.
He ached for an excuse to hold her in his arms again, but the nightclub’s style of music was a far cry from the waltzable slow dances Tara had selected for her wedding reception.
“You sure you don’t want to dance?” he asked.
She shook her head and hugged herself as if she were cold, but with so many bodies crammed into the space, it was overly warm in here.
He studied her for a long moment. Earnest face, big blue eyes, that fall of soft brown hair curling to her shoulders. Her smile was genuine, but beneath it, he could tell she was uncomfortable. The Loophole was not her kind of place.
“There’s a game room in the back,” he hollered above the music. “Pool, shuffleboard, darts, foosball.”
“I’m not very good at those games but if you’d like, I can give it a shot.” She bobbed her head.
“You’re not having a good time,” he said.
“I am,” she enthused, clearly trying too hard. “This is interesting. I don’t go to many places like this.”
“It’s hot and it’s loud and the drinks are far too expensive.”
“Granted,” she said. “But it’s good to step out of my comfort zone once in a while.”
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
She pursed her lips and looked a bit worried. “Mmm.”
“Why did you suggest we come here?” He took a drink of his whiskey sour and found it watered down.
She lifted her shoulders and the corners of her mouth simultaneously. “Dirk told me you loved this place.”
“Not true. Dirk loves this place,” Tom corrected, irritated at the mention of his friend. “I come here because this is where he likes to hang out.”
“So you’re not a fan of The Loophole?”
Tom shrugged. “I can take it or leave it.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
His eyes met hers. “Would you like to get out of here?”
“Yes, please.” Her smile was a reward and it lit him up in unexpected places.
“Before we go, I have another question to ask you.”
“Okay.” She cocked her head, studying him so intently he started to wonder if he had something on his face.
Feeling self-conscious, he ran a palm over his mouth. “Tell me how you would like to spend the rest of evening and be completely honest. Stop worrying about pleasing me.”
Jude cringed. “If I tell you the truth, you’ll think I’m the most boring person on the planet.”
“Try me,” he said, irked that he had to shout the conversation. “What would you normally be doing on a Saturday night?”
“Catching a movie at the Tavern Cinema.”
“Sounds perfect. C’mon. Grab your coat and let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
This time, Jude’s real smile was as glittery as unicorn rainbows.
13
Sitting in the darkened theatre, waiting for the show to start, Tom could smell Jude’s sweet scent mingling with the aroma of buttery popcorn and spicy jalapeños. They’d ordered the extra-large bucket to share along with fully loaded nachos and beer.
He tried not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her or how soft her hand was on the armrest between them. He had a bet to win and these kinds of thoughts didn’t serve his goal. Not in the least.
And then, as the movie started, Jude leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, and Tom just about unraveled.
He was getting in too deep and he feared he would end up hurting her.
Is that what you’re afraid of? challenged a snarky voice at the back of his brain. Or are you afraid of getting hurt yourself?
There was a reason he kept his romantic entanglements light. He was terrified of getting his heart broken. Throwing himself into crafting furniture, telling himself that starting his business and getting it on solid ground was the reason why he couldn’t afford to get serious about anyone.
The real truth was that he’d been hiding from the kinds of feelings Jude stirred in him. It was why he dated women who weren’t interested in anything long term. Even though Jude had sworn that all she wanted was to have fun, he didn’t buy it.
She was a happily-ever-after kind of woman, and the man who ended up with her would be lucky beyond his wildest dreams.
Jude was the total package—smart, funny, gorgeous, and she didn’t mind his daffy family. In fact, she even seemed to like them, and they liked her. Several times this week his mother had texted him to ask when he was bringing Jude around again.
All he had to do was stay safely out of her way until the bet was over and yet, he couldn’t seem to resist temptation. He could have called off the date. He should have called off the date, but he hadn’t.
Why not?
What was he doing with her? He wasn’t sure himself. He should either stop seeing her or go for a long swim in cold water, but he wasn’t ready to jump into Lake Michigan—or stop seeing her.
He wasn’t ready to push her out of his life, but he didn’t know where to go from here.
Sure, he could forfeit the bet and take her to bed the way his body was begging him to do. The way her inviting smile, and the feel of her head on his shoulder, were encouraging him to do.
Surprisingly, despite the sexual tension, the rest of the evening was a blast. For Tom at least. The movie was hilarious and unexpectedly poignant as the main character learned to face his fears and embrace life—which in the end, included finding true love.
The character’s growth arc felt far too familiar, and he found himself wondering if Jude had picked the movie on purpose as some kind of message, but no, she seemed completely guileless, and the flick was so good, he vowed to stop overthinking things.
Just a coincidence.
And when the happily ever after came with closing credits, and Jude reached for his hand, Tom couldn’t resist gently squeezing her soft little hand as his confounded heart swelled inside his chest.
Afterward, they went out for frozen yogurt and when she added gummy bears to her pink lemonade froyo, he burst out in a big grin. She considered herself boring, but she looked at the world through such open and wondrous eyes he couldn’t help being charmed.
They sat in a back booth and over their desserts talked about themselves, not his bet, not her ex-fiancé, not Dirk. He told her how he’d started the store, and she filled him in about graduate school. They discovered they both loved hiking and camping. Tom confessed he could make a mean omelet, but was otherwise pretty hopeless in the kitchen. Jude revealed her father had taught her to change the oil in her car, but s
he always managed to persuade someone else to do it for her.
Then she blinked rapidly at him.
“All right, all right.” He laughed and raised his palms. “I’ll change the oil in your car.”
“You don’t have to.” She grinned. “I went electric.”
“Lucky me.” He chuckled. “Look how you wrapped me around your little finger.”
“Did I do that?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know I’m putty in your hands.”
“Not hardly.”
“Oh, very hardly.”
She cast a surreptitious glance at his zipper and Tom denounced all her claims that she wasn’t a wild woman. She was red hot.
Outside the yogurt store, the evening was overcast but mild with little wind; it boded well for a milder winter. When he walked her to the outer door of her complex, it was nearly midnight.
“Can I come up?” he asked, following her into the vestibule, even as he knew it was a risky thing to do.
“Sorry, not on our first date.”
“This isn’t our first date.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Our first date was Tara’s wedding.”
“Doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“You needed a warm body for a date. I was handy, and you felt sorry for me because I got stood up at the altar. I’m not letting a pity date be our first.”
“What about Aunt Pru’s birthday party?”
“I’m not sure what that was all about, but it wasn’t a date. I didn’t even have time to change. I smelled like eight hours in the library.”
“A very nice scent I might add.” He leaned in closer.
“And last night certainly wasn’t a date.”
“Of course not, you were with Dirk.”
“You tied my shoelaces and then kissed me.”
“I did,” he confirmed.
