The Dance
Chloe
For most of the time that my family had been living in Phoenix after they moved from LA, I’d been in France.
Even though I’d been in Arizona awhile, for a relative newbie, it sneaks up on you. As such, I had not had the experience I needed to understand that, in the summer, Arizona was sweltering hot. In the late fall and early spring, Arizona was sheer perfection. In the winter, during the day, it was heaven.
But at night, it was damned cold.
Go up to Prescott, it was colder.
Up here in the mountains where Bowie lived, freezing.
And as such, mountains plus freezing meant there could be snow.
And there was.
A beautiful blanket of pristine, white, holiday snow covering the earth and tufting the pines.
It was gorgeous by day, breathtaking by moonlight, but I had not taken this into account when I’d packed.
Of course, I had a poofy parka that I kept up here for times when I needed it.
But I’d consider boiling oil poured over my skin before I put it over this outfit.
This made it fortunate I’d brought my alabaster pashmina, which was wide and long and warm.
Even so, it was doing very little to keep the chill at bay as I stood outside on Duncan’s back veranda, standing at the railing, staring at the moonlight gilding the lake and casting ornamental shadows of the crested pines across a bed of blue-white.
I was there because I needed to escape.
This wasn’t because Judge had so far (for hours) completely avoided me.
I’d noted (because, regrettably, I’d looked) that he’d talked to Sully (several times). To Gage (also several times.) To Duncan and Mom (once, for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time). I even saw Sully introducing him to Matt and Sasha.
He didn’t get anywhere near me.
I did not care.
(I cared.)
No, what drove me out into the biting air was something else.
I kept my body facing the railing as I slightly turned my head and slid my eyes into the room.
And saw Mom laughing with Beth and Heddy, and I hated it about me, but I breathed a little sigh of relief that she was thus, one of the few times Bowie wasn’t at her side.
Bowie.
At her side.
I closed my eyes tight and heard my sister’s hissed words of not ten minutes before, another reason I was out in the cold, literally and figuratively.
“It’s none of your business, Chloe. I mean, seriously, do you think for a second that Mom is fired up about you getting in his face? She doesn’t need Dad and Matt not talking and you and Matt not talking either. Stop being so damned nosy and even more freaking bossy. Leave him alone.”
Needless to say, Matt had a conversation with our sister.
Also needless to say, she was taking his side.
Further something I personally thought was needless to say, I could opine about her doing this because, if someone took Matt to task for carrying his resentment about Dad on for far too long, they might also take her to task for being adrift.
Wisely, I decided not to bring up that last point when Sasha told me off.
I could try, but as I’d done it countless times before, I knew I’d fail in any effort to brush aside one of my siblings being mad at me. A sheer impossibility when both of them were.
We might bicker, even have words, but we didn’t fight much.
However, when we did, it upset me.
Greatly.
Therefore, definitely in a cold war with Matt, and tensions escalating with Sasha, I was standing, freezing my satin-covered ass off, facing a new year that was going to be upon me in under ten minutes, and thinking this was becoming typical.
Out with the shitty old.
And in with the shitty new.
On this thought, my eyes flew open, and I emitted a surprised peep when a weight landed on my shoulders.
I whirled, and when I did, the heavy camel hair overcoat I was suddenly wearing whirled with me.
And there stood Judge, and he did it close, with a thick burgundy scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands lifted.
To me.
He used them to pull the lapels so tightly closed at my chest, my upper body swayed at the same time it contracted with the snug fit.
He kept his hands there as he lifted his eyes from them to mine and said in his deep, and now seemingly irritated voice, “You’re a lunatic.”
“Well, hello,” I replied. “So very lovely to see you again.”
He scowled at me, and it was then I smelled his cologne.
He hadn’t worn cologne the other times I’d been in his presence.
For my peace of mind, I wished he hadn’t worn it now either.
My nose picked up the herby head note of basil, definite heart note of plum with the base note of cedar.
If I had built the scent myself, I would have picked the same things for him, though I probably would have gone for bergamot or mint as a head note.
“You’re barely clothed, are you trying to freeze yourself to death?” he demanded, breaking into my fervent mental scent concocting.
“Allow us both, upon our much-dreaded reunion, not to exaggerate,” I replied. “I’m hardly barely clothed.”
“Every guy in there has been staring at your tits, or your ass, all night long,” he shot back.
I stared up at him.
“If Sully, Gage, Duncan, Harv, your brother, Rix and me hadn’t been liberally disbursing death glares, I could have easily punched fifteen men in the throat tonight.”
My gaze skittered to the windows, vaguely wondering who Rix was, not so vaguely wondering if this was true.
“Chloe, look at me,” he growled.
Yes.
A growl.
I looked to him even as my entire body got warmer, and it wasn’t all due to the coat.
I also started to feel peeved.
These contradictory emotions weren’t alarming.
For me, this happened a lot.
He tightened his fists in what I hoped was his own coat (I hoped this not only because it would be bad that he stole someone else’s for this interlude, but also it was a fabulous coat and said many good things about his level of taste—good things, I hastened to remind myself, I did not care about).
“Now, see, I came tonight expecting you to be here,” he stated. “And I came tonight expecting to have a conversation with you. And so I came here ready to apologize. But now, after hours of your horseshit, I’m wondering what I should be apologizing for.”
My…
Horseshit?
“You came here to—?”
I didn’t finish that question.
“I came here for Duncan’s yearly gig, and yeah, I came here hoping to talk to you.”
“Well, I’ve been here all night,” I pointed out.
“I have too,” he returned.
Did he mean…?
“Are you saying you expected me to come to you?” I asked, my words dripping with my feelings on the absolute absurdity of that idea.
“Fuck yeah, I expected you to come to me. How else was it gonna go?”
Apparently, I was going to need to state the obvious.
This, I did.
“You could have come to me.”
“Really? Was it me who verbally handed you your ass months ago?”
Hmm.
“And let’s talk about that,” he continued, taking his hands out of his coat but doing it moving into me so I had no choice but to move back. As I didn’t have far to go, it didn’t take much before I hit railing, but he kept coming, so he was this close to his body touching mine. He then leaned into a hand on the railing so he was even closer, and mostly fencing me in. “That was uncool.”
His last three words were difficult for me to process, because I had a nose full of deliciously plummy cedar and an eye full of a very pissed-off Judge Oakley.
Since, due to his silence, it
seemed something was required of me, I parroted, “Uncool?”
“You making those assumptions of me.”
My brain scrambled through a fog of cedarwood and glittering brown eyes in an effort to try to remember what assumptions I’d made of him.
I didn’t have enough time to succeed in this effort before Judge carried on speaking.
“For months, I felt like a dick. For months, I worried about you. For months, I kicked my own ass because you made me think I’d kicked you when you were down. Then, for the last four hours, watching the ice queen hold court nowhere near me, I wondered how I became guilty of being the player out for nothing but to tap your ass when all I did was be very obvious about the fact I’m interested in you.”
I was catching up, and as such, I reminded him, “You seem to forget our first encounter, you made assumptions about me.”
“Give it up, Chloe,” he returned instantly. “I apologized for that and you’re a big girl. I was pulling your pigtail and you know it. You also didn’t tell me to fuck off. You jumped right in. Both times. And now we’re playing,” he twisted at the waist (though did it and still managed not to move an inch out of my space) and flung an arm behind him to indicate the party inside, “these games?”
“I’m not playing any games,” I returned.
His eyes dropped to his coat then came back to mine.
“Your mom’s a movie star and still, I spent time getting to know her tonight, finding out she’s one of the most down-to-earth ladies I’ve ever met. Even in red satin. What’s your excuse?”
“I hardly wore this for you,” I scoffed.
“Who’d you wear it for? Shasta?” he retorted.
Shasta was Bowie’s husky dog, one of three dogs and two cats (and a rabbit) in his (and now Mom’s) menagerie.
But oh no.
He did not.
He did not get to think anything I did was for him.
I straightened, which meant his coat that I happened to be wearing brushed his chest.
“I don’t dress for men,” I hissed.
“Coulda fooled me,” he fired back.
“You have a high opinion of yourself.”
“Not really. Though I didn’t think he was, turns out tonight my buddy Rix was my wingman. ’Cause he tells me, when I wasn’t looking at you, you were looking right at me.”
Rix.
This indubitably was his rough-hewn, handsome friend.
Damn it all.
When I was on my game, I could sniff out a wingman from twenty paces.
But even not on my game…
What was I thinking?
He read my face, I knew he did when he grunted, “Yeah.”
“I’ll have you know, Judge Oakley—”
“Know my last name, do you?” he inquired drily. “You pretend you weren’t into me to someone, even though you asked about that?”
Oh my God!
He wasn’t to be believed!
“Yeah, babe, I get this shit,” he declared. “Been here, done this kinda crap too many times.”
“You could have kept far away,” as you have all night, I did not finish.
His brows rammed down. “When you floated out here wearing material that has zero insulation properties? I know an invitation when I see one.”
Oh…my…God!
He wasn’t to be believed!
“I didn’t come out here as an invitation to you, Judge,” I snapped.
“You also didn’t refuse my coat, or my company,” he returned. Then punctuated that with the highly effective, “Again.”
I lifted my hands toward the coat to do the first in order to move on to the last.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he warned low.
I stopped moving because no one had ever spoken to me like that.
No one.
And I detested it.
Just about as much as it turned me on.
God damn it.
“Seriously, you’re gonna freeze to goddamn death,” he snarled.
“It isn’t your concern.”
“Chloe—”
I shook my head. “No, Judge. Whatever you think this is—”
“I know what it is.”
All right.
I was getting angry.
“You know nothing,” I bit.
“I know you laid me out at Wild Iris, but if you hadn’t done that, and instead gave me some time, we could’ve shared our coffees that day. Stopped the bullshit and got to know each other. And maybe made plans to do that some more. And probably made more plans. Until you shared what was behind your big speech and I could have been there for you in whatever way you might’ve needed me. That didn’t happen. You assumed I was an asshole. You assumed I had no intentions other than to get me some. You assumed I treat women like trash. And then you left me with nothing but worry for you. And tonight, when we could clear things up, you made a bullshit play.”
The worst part about that?
I had.
I’d assumed, even so far as accused him of being all those things.
I said them right to his face.
“Instead,” he went on, “I found out from some gossip bitch on freaking YouTube, for fuck’s sake, about all the heavy you’ve been dealing with, your family’s been dealing with…”
My mind froze and so did my body as I stared up at him.
But he didn’t seem to notice.
Ten!
“…and I spent the time between then and now concerned for you because that heavy is really fucking heavy. I get here tonight, hoping to clear the air and see where you’re at, but I find you’ve got no intention to be real. I suspect you’ve got a quota of how often you’re real, really real, and you hit that when you spouted all that shit to me at the coffeehouse.”
Six!
“Now who’s making assumptions?” I asked.
Five!
“Correction,” he gritted. “Educated guesses that come not only from your behavior, but experience.”
Four!
“Well, it seems you should steer clear of a woman like me.”
Three!
“Seems that way.”
We glowered at each other.
Two!
“It also seems like it’s going to be another banner year,” I remarked sarcastically.
One!
Happy New Year!
The shouts and squeals and hoots came from inside, so happy and loud they were barely muted by the double-paned glass.
And Judge’s hand came out of nowhere, curling around the side of my neck, his thumb under my jaw pushing up, tilting my face to his.
Then his mouth was on mine, warm and firm.
Now, I would spend a great deal of time on a great number of occasions from that moment onward wondering why I did what I did next (it was weak (and inaccurate), but I blamed New Year’s).
However, I did it.
I opened my mouth.
And his tongue slipped inside.
Tasting his warmth, tasting Judge, I arched into him.
His fingers dug into my scalp.
Our tongues tangled.
I liked to dance, all kinds of dance.
But especially slow dances.
And this one was the best.
The best of my life.
Judge broke it and stepped back.
He then whispered, “Happy New Year.”
I breathed.
Heavily.
And this rendered me unable to speak.
It didn’t render me unable to see, and what I saw was what I’d seen in the shoe department at River Rain, in Wild Iris, in Bowie’s living room,
The most beautiful eyes in the most handsome face I’d ever encountered in my life.
“Give the coat to Duncan,” he ordered. “He’ll bring it into the office.”
I blinked.
Repeatedly.
And quickly.
But with not another word, Judge turned and walked away from me, into t
he house, through it, and as I had a view to it, even if it was obstructed by bodies, I nevertheless saw the front door open and close behind him.
Chapter 6
The Call
Chloe
One week later…
In whatever way you might’ve needed me.
“Chloe? Are you alive in there?”
I came out of my head and into my office, focusing on Mi-Young.
“Where were you?” she asked. “Because I kinda wanna go there, and it also scares me.”
Where was I?
I was back, a week ago, on Bowie’s veranda, going over, yet again, some of the things that Judge had said to me.
Things I had missed at the time.
Like, wearing material that has zero insulation properties.
Of course, what he’d said after that was utterly ungentlemanly.
But the bottom line was, he’d worried about me being out in the cold.
There was also, all I did was be very obvious about the fact I’m interested in you.
Which were, of course, words a girl might obsess on.
Though, I was above that.
(I so was not.)
As well as, I spent the time between then and now concerned for you because that heavy is really fucking heavy.
He was so right.
It was fucking heavy.
And it was so sweet that he’d get that.
Not to mention the things he said that concerned me.
Such as, been here, done this kinda crap too many times.
And, educated guesses that come not only from your behavior, but experience.
I really did not want to know what that meant.
(But the time I spent thinking about it, I totally did.)
All of that said, outside ruminating on my temporary insanity of participating in that amazing kiss, the thing that took the most of my attention was, in whatever way you might’ve needed me.
How would that go, having the man in my life be there in whatever way I might need him?
And then, how would it go, when he eventually did something awful, and he was gone, but I still needed him?
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” Mi said, and I again had to force myself to focus on her.
“I just…have a lot on my mind,” I replied. “It’s application time, and that’s always stressful.”
Chasing Serenity Page 8