Here we go…
“I heard she’s single.” My mother keeps her eyes on her pie, trying to adopt a casual tone. But I’m not falling for the innocent act.
“She’s the ex-wife of my best friend from college.” My parents have met Kirk and they know he married Iris.
Ma hops a little in her seat, instantly dropping the oblivious stuff. “Oh, the divorce is final? Good! That’s good!”
All of a sudden, I’m starting to remember why I opted for a rental over staying here at the family bed and breakfast when I came to town.
I tilt my head to the side and give her a look. “I can’t just go after my best friend’s ex-wife.”
She looks downright offended by my words. “Says who? The woman isn’t a piece of property. She’s her own person…A single person.”
Dad takes another drink of his beer. “Are you and Kirk in touch? Have you seen him since you got back to town?”
I left Kirk a few more voice messages over the past few days. I’m still waiting to hear back from him. I don’t know what his deal is. Did he change his number or something? Anyway, the idea of him finding out about my living arrangements through the small town gossip mill makes me uneasy. I want to be the one to tell him. Man to man. Sort of hard to do that when he won’t return my calls, though.
“We’ll meet up soon enough,” I say nonchalantly. “We’ve both been busy.”
“Busy?” My mother lifts a brow, silently telling me she’s not convinced. “Sweetie, you have maybe two hours of physio in the morning. Then, you spend the rest of your time cooped up in that house. I worry about you.”
“Of course you do, Ma.” I hawk in my throat.
“I’m serious, Jude. You’re lonely and I’m guessing Iris is lonely, too…”
“And she’s a good woman,” my father adds. “Life dealt her a difficult hand these past few months but she’s handled it all with grace.”
From what Cannon tells me, Iris used to be a tenant of my family’s realty holdings business back when Dad was running it. She operated a little sandwich shop. As soon as Cannon stepped into the picture and took over from Dad, my brother had her evicted for being late on the rent. It was a whole, entire shitshow. Eventually, Iris and my asshole brother were able to patch things up and become friends. And that’s just further testament to how much of a good person Iris is. Because in her shoes, I would have found a way to drop a Mentos in his Coke, at the very least.
Mom nods, fully in agreement with my father’s assessment. “Iris is exactly the kind of woman you need in your life, Jude. A good woman.” Nothing like those loose groupies I’ve been known to spend my time with. Mom doesn’t have to say the words out loud to convey her meaning.
Walker finishes up with the gate and wipes his hands on a towel before joining us at the patio table. He peels off his straw hat and rolls back the sleeves of his look-at-me-I’m-a-cowboy shirt as Ma hands him a slice of pie.
I shake my head.“I’m not ready to settle down yet.” I’m a stubborn bastard and I know it.
“Settling down isn’t so bad,” my mother insists. “Look how happy Cannon is. Remember how grouchy he used to be?”
Callie steals a piece of pie crust from my dad’s plate. “Uncle Cannon used to be really grouchy.” She looks at me with wide eyes.
My mother smiles at the child and stretches over to brush her wild blonde ringlets back from her face. “Until Aunt Lexi brought out his soft side.”
Walker leans back in his chair and grins. “Time to let your soft side out, bro.”
He’s one to talk. He’s had a thing for Penny Merlini since we were teenagers and he’s never acted on it, as far as I know. His grumpy ass claims they’re ‘just friends’. In fact, he’d deny his feelings for the woman to his dying day even though it’s clear to everyone who’s ever seen the two of them in the same room.
I glare at his face. “My soft side is fine right where it is.” Buried under megatons of swagger and bravado.
Still, I can’t deny the picture of wedded bliss sitting right in front of me. I watch the way my father’s eyes brighten just a touch when his wife scoots her chair closer to his. The way he drops his hand to her knee with the familiarity of having repeated that action thousands of times before. Mom and Dad have been married 36 years and they do look happy. They raised my brothers and me in a happy home.
But I never imagined that type of deal for myself. I’ve always been so focused on my career and all the perks that come along with a professional football contract. Now that the future of my football dreams is in limbo, I find myself wondering about love for the first time. Hell, maybe I can have both—a career and a relationship worth investing in.
Wow, do you hear yourself, Jude?
Love is nowhere near my radar. Especially where Iris is concerned. She probably thinks I’m a frigging psycho after the things I said over dinner the other night.
What the hell was I thinking?
Not only did I come totally out of left field and admit to finding her attractive, the cherry on the crazy cake was accusing her of unfairly judging me in the present based on my past actions.
I’m so full of shit sometimes. Am I really a better person than I was back in college? That night before bed, I had to look myself in the mirror and ask the question. Didn’t like the answer very much.
Honestly, I’m not a better man. But do I want to be better? After hanging around Iris for a bit, I kind of think I might.
Eventually, my parents go off to put Callie to bed. Walker and I take a stroll down the dirt path to his cabin. We sit on the front porch overlooking the dark fields.
“Dude—Penny told me about your little temper tantrum over dinner the other night,” he says casually. “What was that all about?”
I cringe. “Yeah, that was fucked up. I acted a fool.”
“Just can’t help yourself, huh, asshole?”
I shake my head and drop my face into my palms as I replay my embarrassing display. “I’ll probably start looking for other lodging options. It’s not fair for Iris to be uncomfortable in her own home because of me.”
That’s when I realize that I…care. I’m not sure how it happened. Maybe it’s the sadness I always see in her eyes. Or maybe the vicarious guilt I feel about being best friends with the man who must have put it there.
“You’re moving out?” My brother asks, brow raised. He glances my way.
“Yeah, I think I should.” Iris is a goddess and being less than my best self in her presence just doesn’t sit right with me.
“Penny thinks you and Iris have unresolved sexual chemistry. You sure you don’t want to explore that?” He doesn’t ask it with innuendo. He seems genuinely curious.
But I don’t want to have to face that possibility. I roll my eyes. “Trust me—there’s no unresolved sexual chemistry between me and Iris. The woman hates me.”
He watches me sternly. Walker can sniff out my bullshit from a mile away. “Bro…”
“What?” I can practically feel my cells tightening defensively.
“How do you feel?”
The fact remains—Iris is a stunning woman. She has this effortless, classical beauty that I’ve always found sexy. She’s not like those women who spend hours glamming up. That’s not her, and she doesn’t even need to. But I’ve never felt the desire to tell her so. Not before the other night.
I’d rather not analyze that too closely.
“She’s my friend’s ex-wife. Doesn’t that mean anything to you people? Come on, man.” I already betrayed him once, years ago. The guilt of carrying that secret around gnaws at me even today. There’s no way I’m betraying him again by hooking up with his ex.
My brother throws an arm over the back of his chair. “Kirk’s your friend? Because you’ve been back in town for how long now and his ass hasn’t even dropped by with a plate of oatmeal cookies. Doesn’t seem very friendly to me.”
My brother is right but dammit, I don’t want him to be.
&nbs
p; Because if he is, that would mean that Kirk doesn’t deserve the loyalty I’ve been paying him. And if that is true…then why the hell have I been keeping my distance from Iris Merlini?
I don’t offer him an answer. Because I don’t have one. So I zip my mouth shut and stare out at the moon-kissed fields.
10
Iris
Jude and I have settled into a weird routine that revolves around avoiding each other as much as possible.
It helps that he tends to stay cooped up in his room most of the day unless he’s at physiotherapy. I carefully time my kitchen visits when I know he’s back upstairs, locked in his room, to avoid the awkwardness. We haven’t said more than a few words since my girlfriends were over for dinner the other night.
Jude’s angry rant made me flush to the tips of my ears. How dare he say those things to me? But it’s his weird backhanded compliment that made me feel too warm the rest of the night.
He finds me beautiful?
I feel like a fool for dwelling on that particular aspect of the conversation, especially given all the other not-so-kind things that were said. I can’t help it, though. My ego clung desperately to the compliment, trying to use it as a building block to reassemble my shattered self-image.
I still don’t know what to make of the interaction. It was so uncharacteristic of the Jude I’ve known all these years. Maybe he’s still on painkillers, and all that tea he’s been drinking must be messing with his head…Or maybe he’s changed.
Of course my girls had wanted to linger in my kitchen and dissect the whole scene, but I had to kick their butts out so I could go to my bedroom and take care of the throbbing ache Jude had ignited between my thighs.
Masturbating to the thought of the arrogant bastard left me hating myself a little but after the mind-twisting orgasm, I had to take a good, long look at myself in the mirror. Jude’s words had been harsh—and embarrassing—and I sure as hell resented him for them. But they stuck with me. Because, deep down, I suspected he was right.
I haven’t changed. Not since college. Not even a little. I still have the same boring straight blonde hair, the same frumpy outfits, the same reclusive personality. Maybe I need a new look? A new attitude? A new freakin’ life?
Or maybe I need to pack the whole interaction away in a box on a shelf that I’m too short to reach…
Anyway, things have been different in my household since that night. Jude’s usually up early for physiotherapy and even though he doesn't drink coffee, he always starts the coffee pot and sets out a mug next to the machine for me.
I respect the little peace offerings, so I extend the same courtesy. When I make dinner every night, I leave a plate out for him. That feels fair, especially with the way he keeps splurging on filling my refrigerator and pantry.
Plus, making his life a little bit easier feels sort of good to me. He may be able to fool the world with that brash grin he’s always throwing around but I can see the pain and turmoil brewing in his dark eyes.
I’ve had to come up with some creative ways to slip vegetables into the meals, though, or else he picks them out with his fork. Big baby. I’m guessing that muscled-up body of his needs as much vitamins and minerals as it can get with all the healing it’s doing. Tonight, a pot of veggie-packed beef chilli simmers on the stove as I work on my quippy coffee mug business idea.
A loud ring from my landline phone sends a jolt through me. I usually let the landline go to the answering machine. This is a number Kirk and I shared before he moved out. Anyone important who wants to find me, calls my cell. But tonight, with my attention still focused on my computer screen, I pick up the cordless phone, answering absentmindedly, just to halt the earsplitting ringing.
When the stranger on the other end announces the reason for his call, I freeze.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to pay that today,” I admit to the debt collector who’s being unusually pushy and rude.
“This needs to be paid immediately, ma’am. The late fees will continue to accumulate until the debt is picked up by a third party.”
“It’s not even my card. It was my ex-husband’s.” I keep my voice low in case Jude is nearby.
“Miss Merlini, your name is on the credit card. If you wish to dispute the charges, I can put in a request, but that’s going to take time, and the fees will continue to pile up during that period.”
Anxiety snakes through my belly. I drop back in my kitchen chair, chewing on my thumbnail in frustration.
Dammit, Kirk.
It’s just like him to dump his shit on me. He was never very good at managing his finances, and all this time later, I’m still left sorting out any shared expenses. I’ve discovered more than one credit card that he opened in my name without my knowledge.
This card is a big one. He used my flawless credit to acquire a high-level limit. Kirk racked up the debt, and clearly fell behind on the payments.
This card includes extravagant trips and purchases. Trips and purchases I did not partake of in any way. The thought of funding my ex-husband’s adultery sickens me.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I cannot pay this today,” I speak into the receiver, my frustration growing. “Isn’t there some type of payment plan to catch back up?”
“I’m afraid not. This bill is scheduled for third-party collection next month. Once that happens, it will be reflected on your credit.”
I have zero desire to pay this outrageous bill, but blemishing my stellar credit history seems like the greater evil in this situation.
When will I ever get ahead? I take one step forward and then two steps back.
In my head, I’m quickly totalling the money I’m earning from the room rental and the pittance of income I’m bringing in from my new business ventures. I’m doing the math, determining which bills I can put off so I can focus on this one. I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off, but I need a little more time to figure it out.
I sigh into the phone. “I have a month, right? Maybe I can—”
“No,” a deep, familiar voice speaks over the phone line. “I’ll pay it. I’ll pay the debt.”
11
Jude
The end credits are running on the Bourne movie I was watching. I’d been trying to stay awake until dinner is ready because whatever my roomie is cooking tonight smells amazing. But my eyelids are just too heavy.
As I’m drifting off into a light, restless sleep, the phone on the nightstand rings.
Who the hell has a landline anymore? I don’t think I’ve seen one of these in nearly ten years.
I absently pick up the obnoxiously loud phone in my tired haze, but before I can say a word, I hear someone with a high, nasally voice threatening Iris. Suddenly alert, I quickly realize that this is some debt collector, demanding a shit ton of money.
I sit up in bed, my attention now completely redirected, and continue to eavesdrop on the private conversation. Each time the asshole talks, my aggression inches up a notch. My fingers curl into my palms, and my breathing speeds up. I should really try and find the mute button to ensure they can’t hear my anger through the line.
I feel my heart rate picking up. I feel the urge to smash something or someone.
It’s becoming abundantly clear that Kirk left his wife in a compromising legal situation and with no money to cover his ass. What kind of man does that shit? He may not have hacked it in professional sports, but as far as I know, Kirk finished school, found a respectable career as a college professor, and earns a decent salary. Decent enough to cover his own damn monthly credit card payments.
"No. I'll pay it...I'll pay the debt." I have no control over the words that spill from my mouth. It's like I'm just relaying an incoming message from my subconscious mind. A message that yells to me that this shit isn’t right!
I have the means to fix it, so apparently, that’s precisely what I’m going to do.
So much for silently eavesdropping.
; Iris splutters out in surprise, on the other end of the receiver.“W-what?!”
Maybe she didn’t hear what I told the persistent money-hungry douche on the line. “I will pay for it.”
“No, you most definitely will not.”
“Well...somebody's going to pay,” the assclown collector butts in.
“That'll be me,” I answer, with authority, ready to end this argument. I’m doing this, and she’s not going to stop me. I’m ashamed to call Kirk my friend at the moment. This is my way of fixing his asinine mistake. “What information do you need from me?”
“Stop, Jude,” Iris pleads. “I don't need you to—”
I ignore her refusals and carry forward, rattling off my identification information to the slightly amused debt collector. I hear Iris make an exasperated sound through the phone before breaking my eardrum by slamming down her receiver. Her small but angry footsteps sound on the stairs. I speak faster, answering the man’s questions.
I’m still on the call when Iris bursts into my room. She looks a little crazed right now. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she shrieks at me as she dives across the bed for the phone.
Startled, I roll across the mattress, barely avoiding her crash-landing.
What the hell?!
I had no idea doing her a favor would send her into such a frenzied state. “I’m helping you, dammit. How about a ‘thank you’?” What is with this impossible woman?
“Sir, is everything okay?” the man on the phone asks, his concern rising.
My feet hit the carpet. I spin toward my crazed roommate. “A-okay,” I respond.
I raise a hand appeasingly, trying to keep my cool where Iris has so clearly lost hers.
“I never asked for your help!” She hops up on the mattress and then comes at me again, leaping tree frog style.
“You didn’t have to ask. You need help, and it’s something I have the means to handle. There’s no shame in that.”
A voice comes through the phone. “Sir, is your home being invaded? Would you like me to call emergency responders?”
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 7