Chasing Serenity

by Ashley, Kristen

  Judge.

  If he thought Judge was a chip off the old block, he’d either not been around him in a while or dementia was setting in.

  And as he was an octogenarian on the wrong side of that mark, I wasn’t being cruel in noting that last possibility.

  Judge somehow (magic?) had escaped all of this (at least in the press), even though his name was noted frequently (he was now AJ’s vehemently touted heir).

  If he was mentioned otherwise, it was as Jameson’s “estranged son.” And on a variety of Google searches, I’d noted there were far more pictures of Judge with Duncan than there were of Judge with his father or grandfather (even though there were some…with both).

  Jameson and Belinda’s divorce was, as Dad mentioned, picked apart with utter glee, as the press liked to do with beautiful, rich people who had fallen into heartbreaking times (Jameson, predictably, was also immensely attractive—more rough-hewn and wolfish than his son, but nevertheless exceptionally handsome).

  In what was available to read online from back in the day, or what was resurrected due to the public’s captivation by the mighty or beautiful who fall (in other words, people were still writing about it, and I did not have the time to watch them, but in my research I discovered there was both a short hour and a half documentary and a newsmagazine show about it), I learned it was no secret that Belinda had a drinking problem. Further, it was wildly speculated she did vast amounts of cocaine and popped any pill going.

  As to why, outside having an addictive personality (and/or a cheating husband), no one knew, because either Jameson’s people had a chokehold on the spin, or what came across was actually true. That being it was widely reported, even if it was he who cheated on her, that he was the wronged man. The somber husband who had been “besotted” with his wife and “forced” to look elsewhere when she did not accept his many pleas to get help.

  Yes, but of course this flew two and a half decades ago.

  And apparently, it still did now.

  This was, I would admit, helped along by the fact that Jameson clearly adored his second wife, Rosalind (I hadn’t had time to fully fall down that rabbit hole, but this was so clear, the little time I had for it made it so—indeed, there wasn’t a single picture of them where they didn’t seem to be ridiculously into each other, and these pictures spanned decades).

  Judge’s parents had separated when he was five, and he’d grown up “the poor tyke, not really knowing his daddy, and forced to live with that bitter husk of a woman who is his mother,” an alleged direct quote by AJ.

  To put a fine point on it, Judge’s upbringing had been a shitshow, with a mom who was apparently a junkie, a dad who had slightly less money than God (and that god was my Uncle Corey) who “fought for him,” but still somehow never managed to win, and a grandfather who might just be Satan incarnate, who butted his nose in whenever it suited him.

  Obviously, I failed spectacularly in keeping all of this off my mind as I strolled down Judge’s path.

  Equally obviously, his big windows had many views.

  Including to my arrival.

  And therefore, the door opened when I was three feet from it.

  My heart stuttering, I looked up, but my gaze snagged on a massive chest that was not Judge’s.

  Up further I went and saw his best friend, Rix standing there.

  Well…

  Fabulous.

  “Hello,” I greeted.

  “Hey,” he grunted, looking me top to toe, his sensuous lips (something I could note now, being up close to him) becoming an irate line. He twisted at the waist and shouted. “Yo, man, she’s here!”

  I stopped at the door and lifted my hand his way when he turned back to me. “You’re Rix, I’m—”

  “Know who you are,” he cut me off to say, then he ignored my hand and left the door open as he turned and walked away.

  His gait on his prosthetics was triflingly ungainly.

  His ass was everything.

  I heard a screen door open, claws on floor, and then I saw Zeke.

  I hadn’t stepped over the threshold before he ran to me, tail wagging, and stopped on Judge’s indoor mat, now with whole body wagging.

  I crouched to give him a full head and neck rub, murmuring, “Hello, beautiful boy.”

  He panted and lolled his tongue.

  At least one male in this house welcomed me.

  I saw movement, glanced up, and there was Judge.

  Rix had a younger Frank Grillo vibe to him, big, built, tough, rough and ready.

  Judge was sun and dirt and pine and moonlight and forest rains and gentle breezes.

  He was beer on the deck and pepperoni and sausage on pizza and conversations that were entirely teases that were endearingly annoying and annoyingly endearing and strong hands with long fingers that were tailored to wrap around yours.

  He was warm brown eyes and soft brown hair and that perfectly angled tilt of your head when you wore heels and you wanted his mouth on yours, then got it.

  Rix could probably wrestle a bear.

  Judge could walk through the forest and not startle a doe.

  As I crouched there, petting his dog, gazing up at him, I wanted him so badly, I feared it was imprinted on my DNA.

  And I had to find a way to get over it.

  “Is she a vampire? Does she need an invitation to walk into a house?” Rix’s voice came from inside.

  And suddenly, I remembered who I was.

  With one more thorough sweep of Zeke’s ears, head and neck, I straightened, walked in and said to Judge, “Hello, Judge.”

  “Chloe. You hit a River Rain store before you showed?” he asked, eyes traveling down my body.

  Message clear.

  My outfit was spectacular.

  However, I already knew that.

  Slim hiking pants in a deep gray-green, a long-sleeve, thin thermal in a muted bright yellow-green and a hooded featherless vest in olive.

  Strapped over me was a medium size crossbody that had tucked inside a hat, gloves, my phone, license, a KIND bar, and some antibacterial wipes. And I carried a carnation pink Hydro Flask.

  What could I say?

  My new brothers and soon-to-be stepfather were nature lovers, and I loved them.

  I was also Chloe Marilyn Pierce, so I didn’t do anything not kitted out to absolute perfection.

  Therefore, when my life included Duncan, Sullivan and Gage, I’d purchased several items to create a limited wardrobe for this specific type of occasion.

  And although I did this in a River Rain store (of course), I didn’t do it before I showed at Judge’s.

  Therefore, I answered Judge coolly with a “No.” I then turned my attention to Rix. “And you said earlier when I introduced myself that you know who she is, that being me. So please, have my leave to use my name. It’s Chloe.”

  Rix scowled at me.

  And when he did, I had to admit to being slightly scared.

  “Rix is gonna be our camera guy,” Judge shared.

  I thought Judge was going to be our “camera guy.”

  Therefore, we didn’t need a “camera guy.”

  However, if Judge needed a buffer (why he would need this, I had no idea, he was fine with us not being anything), I wasn’t going to discuss that part.

  I turned and looked up at him. “Did Rix get the memo that we were only together a minute and therefore there is utterly nothing for him to be a cad about?” I asked acidly.

  At first, Judge’s head jerked.

  Then his brows edged down.

  After that, something openly dawned on him.

  This led to his polite but impersonal gaze warming exponentially (alas).

  And to end this conglomeration of fascinating emotiveness, he appeared in pain, the kind you had when you were trying very hard not to laugh.

  The fourth one was difficult to withstand.

  The last nearly impossible.

  Even his deep voice was choked with humor when he asked, �
�Cad?”

  “I could use a far less polite word,” I suggested drily.

  “That’s all right, I think we got it,” Judge muttered amusedly.

  I glared at him. Then I glared at Rix (who was still scowling at me, incidentally).

  I then looked down at Zeke, who was sitting between me and Judge, and not scowling at all.

  “Please tell me you’re coming too,” I said to Zeke.

  “Of course he is,” Judge answered for Zeke.

  “Thank God,” I said to the dog.

  He licked his chops, noticed my sustained attention, and got to all fours to offer the body wag again, since all indications were it earned him pets.

  He was right to go for it.

  I bent to scratch his head.

  But I did it tilting mine back to look at Judge (who was watching me…could it be? …affectionately. What on earth? No, I didn’t want to know) and demand, “Are we doing this?”

  “Yeah,” Judge replied. “We’ll take my car.”

  Oh no we wouldn’t.

  I was limiting our time together to the absolute least it could be.

  Thus, no riding around in cars with them, and when we were finished, I was leaving him and going home.

  That was to say, going directly to Duncan’s (and Mom’s now, I guessed) for dinner.

  Then I was going home.

  I straightened to declare, “I’ll follow.”

  Judge shook his head. “We’re all going to the same place. There’s no need for you to drive.”

  “I’ll follow.”

  “Chloe—”

  I stared into his eyes and said low, “I’ll follow.”

  His expression shifted again, contemplative, and something else.

  Something I looked away from because I understood it, even if I didn’t.

  Remorse.

  “You get to ride with me,” I told Zeke.

  That made Rix enter the conversation. “No, he doesn’t.”

  I leveled my gaze on Judge’s friend. “I’m sorry, but he does. He’s exceptionally well-behaved, and I’m afraid it concerns me, his being around you. I don’t want anything to rub off.”

  Rix’s eyes widened in shock at my insult, or anger, I had no idea and didn’t linger to find out.

  Judge grunted with the effort not to guffaw.

  “Leash?” I demanded of Judge.

  “By the door,” he told me.

  I twisted, looked, moved that way and took it off the hook.

  Then I called to Zeke, patting my leg (something I didn’t have to do, I had the leash, he was already bounding to me), “Come, mon chou, let’s get some fresh air.”

  Zeke was in concurrence with this, I could tell. He was very good as I put on his lead. And he was very good as I walked him to my car to sit in it and await Judge pulling out of the garage that was a level below the rest of his house, built into the incline of the mountain.

  And I managed to do this without thinking once about the glimpse of perfect vista I saw off his deck from the wall of windows at the back of his house. Or the manly, rustic décor in his home that looked inviting and comfortable. So much so, I wanted to invite myself into it and get very comfortable.

  Therefore, we were ready when Judge backed out in his Cherokee, Rix in his passenger seat.

  And then we were on our way.

  * * *

  Considering my earlier hypothesis that Rix could wrestle a bear, I shouldn’t have been surprised that he could keep up with Judge while hiking.

  What was vexing was that they both openly (if not verbally) expressed surprise that I could.

  “She probably does spin classes or something,” I caught Rix up ahead, walking beside Judge, saying to Judge under his breath (loudly) after we’d been hiking a trail for a good fifteen minutes.

  To which I, coming up the rear, said (also loudly), “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym. Too many people there to work out, no interest in admiring my outfits.”

  Judge turned his head away from Rix and grinned huge at the vista.

  Even in profile, it was a sight to behold.

  Rix glowered over his insanely broad shoulder at me.

  The vista was so gorgeous, it clearly caused Judge to temporarily lose his mind, because at this point, he declared, “Zeke and I are gonna go on a quick run. He’s dying for it. We’ll be back. But while we’re gone, you two learn to get along.”

  And with no further ado, Judge twisted and reached long, tugged Zeke’s lead from my hand and took off running.

  Although it was clear that our pace was driving Zeke around the bend (so being a good dog dad, it was a moral imperative for Judge to give that puppers what he needed), I halted entirely, such was my shock that Judge left me with a man who really did not like me.

  For what reason, I did not know.

  It wasn’t like I left Judge at the altar (an unfortunate thought, because it brought up the next one, which was Judge looking handsome in a bespoke tuxedo, surrounded by walls made from trailing white wisteria, waiting for his bride).

  “We’re not gonna get this shit done if you just stand there,” Rix informed me.

  I came out of my Judge-in-a-tuxedo-among-wisteria trance and focused on Rix, who had also stopped about five feet ahead of me on the trail.

  I didn’t start moving again.

  I asked, “Can I please understand why you have a problem with me when, until very recently, I’ve never met you?”

  He turned his black-haired head to look up the path where Judge and Zeke had disappeared, he then looked back at me.

  After that, he simply raised his thick brows.

  “I’m sure your good looks and defined muscles allow your Neanderthal act to work on some women, but I’m afraid I must inform you, I’m evolved, and therefore require speech. Full sentences if you’re able,” I stated.

  “We’re gonna be honest?” he asked, walking back to me. “Then here’s the honesty, sweetheart. I’m sure with your looks and that ass and that attitude, you expect men to drop like flies. And I bet that’s a fun game for you. What I’m not a fan of is when my boy,” he jerked his head to the trail, “does it, and you crush him under your four-hundred-dollar heel.”

  “Excuse me,” I returned, wholly affronted. “I don’t have shoes that cost four hundred dollars. At least not ones with heels on them. They cost far more than that. However, I will admit, my flip-flops cost something around that zone. But they’re Valentinos, and I wouldn’t use them to crush bugs.”

  “You’re a piece of work,” he muttered, beginning to turn away.

  “You don’t know what I am,” I retorted.

  He stopped turning and got that scary look again.

  “You think he hasn’t been dicked around?” he asked.

  “You think he’s the only one?” I shot back.

  That made him even angrier, much angrier, and he didn’t hide it.

  “Are you standing there, after you kicked him in the teeth three days ago, telling me that he dicked you around?”

  “I didn’t kick him in the teeth,” I snapped.

  He got close to me, lifting a hand and tapping his head with his fingers before throwing it out in disgruntlement, all while growling, “Christ, he’s so fucking gone for you, he can’t fucking see straight. He waits months for you, months, you give him a taste and find him lacking. And I don’t even fuckin’,” he leaned closer into me, “know what you’re lookin’ for, if you find Judge lacking. But you do and you kick him to the curb. And you don’t think he’s gonna feel that? You think, because he’s got a dick, he doesn’t have emotions, and when you toy with them, it isn’t gonna mess him up? Well, you’re wrong.”

  “I didn’t toy with his emotions,” I fired back.

  “Bullshit,” was his stellar retort.

  “We haven’t even had a date,” I reminded him. “And I shared how this would get messy and we should abstain. Now, clearly Judge has told you a different story, but he was not the slightest upset that I came t
o that conclusion. I will quote from him directly that he was fine with that and I needed to get over it because it didn’t last a minute, and now we need to focus because we have a job to get done.”

  “You are far from dumb, woman, you cannot have missed how deep he’s in it for you.”

  “Well, Rix, since you just met me, you couldn’t possibly know how much deeper I was in it for him.”

  He clamped his mouth shut.

  Unfortunately, for some unhinged reason, I did not.

  “It’s none of your business, but this,” I tossed my arm to the trail, “is torture for me. To be around him. To see him smile. It’s killing me.”

  “Then why—?”

  “I can’t take the chance.”

  “What are you—?”

  I got in his face and whispered fiercely, “You love with a love like that, it becomes you. And then when you lose it, you fade away. He’s the kind of man you love like that, Rix. I know it to my bones. And I can’t take that chance. I can’t take the chance of loving like that, then losing him and fading away. So it’s good he’s fine with us not going there. Because in the end, I’d be lost to him, and that scares the hell out of me.”

  He stood there, close, staring down at me, his eyes burning.

  God, what had I done?

  I stepped away, smoothed down the front of my vest, gathering myself, and then requested in a calm voice, “Now, if we could get along from here on out and you would refrain for both Judge and my sakes, but especially Judge’s, from telling him what I just shared, we can finish this task, and all enjoy the rest of our Sundays.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said gently. “But if you think I’m not gonna tell my boy what you just said, you’re crazy.”

  God.

  What had I done?

  “He won’t care,” I asserted.

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  “I think you might not have the latest details,” I said helpfully.

  “I think I just got all I needed.”

  God!

  What had I done!?

  “If you don’t promise right now not to tell him, I’m going to turn around and leave,” I threatened.

  He didn’t promise.

  He advised, “Whatever’s causin’ you to think like that about love, you gotta work it out with someone, Chloe.”