by Dixon,Jules
Sometimes I wondered if that would happen to me, too. I worked long hours and, like tonight, I sometimes stayed long after I should have left the dealership. Selling cars wasn’t eight to five. Ever. I needed someone who understood the need to put forth that kind of effort at work.
My phone buzzed next to me on the bed. Jace probably forgot something.
Unknown number. I opened the text.
Unknown: Hi, Jude here.
I stopped reading right there. How? Why? What for? A million questions spun through my head and my blood rushed through my veins at NASCAR speed.
Finish reading the text and find out!
Unknown: Hi, Jude here. Just wanted to remind you-5am tomorrow. I’ll be there. Can’t wait to make you sweat. J
“Holy shit!”
“Now you owe me forty dollars!” Willow chuckled and the sound carried through the wall.
“No, I don’t. That wasn’t an orgasmic ‘holy shit’ that was an I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-read ‘holy shit’.”
“What can’t you believe?”
“My trainer just texted me a reminder and he says that he, and I quote, ‘can’t wait to make me sweat’!”
“You need to jump that stud. He’s sending signals, Prez. Trainers don’t remind people of appointments. They get paid if you show or don’t.”
I remained quiet and stilled for a long time. My brain and body weren’t communicating. Terrified that making a move would set off a nuclear reaction of overwhelming emotion, I was stuck in a weird frozen state of being.
“Are you okay, Presley?” Willow had this weird intuition that used to bug me. She predicted when I was going to crash into myself, the ripples of my psyche cracking and crumbling, but instead of telling me what was going to happen, now she supported me and let me work out the emotional fallout on my own … most of the time. My coping skills had come a long way, but there was always a possibility that a giant emotional tidal wave would pull me under.
Relationship stuff like this could do that to me. I could drown in all the thinking and overthinking the details I’d already thought I’d thought about, drowning until I was a pile of human goo on the sofa watching every sappy and heart-wrenching Lifetime movie out there for weekends on end. Years of therapy helped, but I was still a bipolar worrywart. The worry rode slowly over me in extremes. The middle homeostatic good-type-of-worry area grew over time, but at that moment, I was 100 percent freaked out.
I inhaled a deep breath to calm my frantically beating heart. “Yeah, I’m okay. No Ben and Jerry’s meltdown. I’m going to text him back ‘thanks’ and move on. He’s going out with Emerson tomorrow night anyway. If he’s into her, he definitely doesn’t want me! I mean … she’s gorgeous and I’m—”
I swore I heard Willow growl or grunt or gargle or something.
What the hell was that?
When her voice came back, it was probably heard in the next county. “Presley, you are beautiful! How many times do I have to tell you that!” She calmed, then added, “You were beautiful before you started working out and eating better, but now, my sister from another mother, you are … Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that.”
“I know,” I mumbled.
Willow wouldn’t lie, but the word “beautiful” just never came to mind when I weighed—what I weighed. I hated to think in numbers and I wouldn’t ever again. Healthy physically, emotionally, and mentally was all that mattered.
Prez: Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be there.
I went back to my book. My phone buzzed.
Jude: My pleasure. How was your day?
Small talk? Really?
I could have ignored him. But I didn’t.
Prez: Good, actually, really good. I will be the top salesperson for the month.
Jude: Congratulations! Blake told me you are a great car salesperson.
Blake said that? How sweet.
Prez: Thanks.
I stopped typing and contemplated if I wanted to take the text a little further. I bit my lip and continued typing.
Prez: Thanks. How was your day?
My heart paused when I tapped the send button. I stared at his name, still kind of in shock that he was now permanent in my phone. And in my life?
I received a return text almost immediately and my heart played a quick tempo of happiness.
Jude: Three new clients today. Loving Triple R. Met some great people.
Prez: Congrats to you, too. Triple R is lucky to have you.
There was a long wait for another text. Maybe we’re done?
Jude: Sorry for surprising you @ art class yesterday.
Prez: No need to apologize. It was nice to see you.
I pressed send and then panicked.
I didn’t just say that! “Nice to see you”? He was naked! That sounds totally creepy!
Jude: The whole me or just parts of me? ;-)
OMG! I think he’s flirting by text!
I sat up in bed and stared blindly at my phone. My brain was stuck trying to determine if he was, in fact, actually, positively, irrefutably flirting. I was sure several minutes went by, even if the lapse felt like seconds.
The phone buzzed in my hand and I flinched like it was a striking snake.
Jude: Presley, I am sorry. I may have offended you. If I did, I didn’t mean to. Hope to see you in the AM. Good night.
Contemplating my next move from every direction, I closed my eyes and tried to absorb the emotions coursing through me, something I rarely did because the sensations were often overwhelming. Jude was a nice guy, and I wanted to like him, but I didn’t want to get hurt either. I’d been here before. Putting myself out there and being rejected had eaten away the ability to see when someone was actually interested.
I typed slowly.
Prez: No offense. Liked bumping into you as much as seeing all of you.
After a deep breath, I closed my eyes and hit send. In less than a minute, there was a return text. I opened the message and then opened my eyes.
Jude: My family says I never have my eyes open to watch where I’m going, both in my personal life and when it comes to turning the right direction. Trying to change both. However, when it comes to you, Presley, I have my eyes wide open and I like what I see, too. Good night.
Holy shit!
Prez: Good night, Jude.
I slept peacefully.
Chapter Six
Jude
It was finally Friday. Out the door early and to the gym in fifteen minutes. Omaha was an easy city to get around in. Similar to Des Moines, but with better grid-patterned streets. I was really starting to like this town. As well as other things.
I was curious how things would be between Presley and me. Last night’s light text-flirting, where I thought she admitted she liked my junk, and when our bodies touched at the art place was … interesting, and I was interested in learning more about her. There was something strong about Presley Bradenhurst and something equally as vulnerable about her. She was a puzzle of sorts. I love puzzles.
Sitting at the desk filing paperwork, I sat up straight when Presley came rolling in. In flat shoes, her head fit right under my chin, as I’d found out on Wednesday night. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, like a black whip down her back, swishing side to side when she walked.
I left my long hair down this morning to dry. I was thinking about it the other night. Why so long? Mainly because I got lazy in college and let it grow, then girls started telling me the Jarod Leto-style looked good. So I left it that way. I’d thought about cutting it off—it could be hot during the summer and a bitch to take care of some days—but I didn’t.
Just admit it. You’re too fucking lazy to change it.
“Hi, Jude,” Presley greeted me as she walked by to the stretching area.
I walked toward her, admiring the view.
You need to remain professional.
“Good morning, Presley. How are you today?”
“I�
�m good, a little tired. Stayed up too late reading and chatting by text with someone.” She smirked and plopped onto the blue mat to grab her ankle for a calf and thigh stretch.
“That’s too bad. I have new isometrics and a routine change-up planned for today. Do I need to bring the intensity down a notch?”
“Nope. Bring it on.” She glanced up through her lashes and added, “Plus, someone promised to make me sweat.”
Damn, she’s being kind of playful today.
“I’ll do my best.”
She stood and completed a ten-second stretch of her graceful neck. “I’m ready for this day to get started so tonight can get here.”
“Big plans?”
Please don’t say you have a date.
She stretched her arms. “Girls’ night out.”
I started stretching, too. Not sure why. I’d already stretched. But it seemed weird to just stand and watch her.
“What about you, Jude?”
I really didn’t want to tell her about the Emerson thing. “I have a second job bartending. I work tonight and tomorrow night.”
Presley’s face contorted. “Is there another new trainer working here?”
“Not that I know of. Why? Am I not doing a good job and you’re ready to move on already?”
Stretching out her back, Presley twisted at the waist. “No!” She cringed at how loud she had said the word, and lowered her voice. “No reason. Anyway, you mean you work a third job? I’m assuming you get paid for…”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“modeling.”
Couldn’t help but smile. “It’s actually a favor to my brother’s—” I tried to come up with what Yori was to him. She might not be a girlfriend, but she was definitely more than a friend. “—my brother’s tenant’s sister.”
That was jacked up!
“Your instructor, Simi,” I added quickly.
Presley beamed. “I love Simi. She’s so talented.”
I nodded. I’d only seen a couple pieces of her art, and I wasn’t an art aficionado by any means, but they looked good to me. Presley’s sketch was awesome.
Wonder if she decided on a copy?
“Okay, all stretched?”
Presley leaned over to grab her water bottle and the view was … oh, thank God I used her mental image in the shower this morning.
“Ready.” She smiled.
I started Presley on weight machines to warm up, then moved to isometric muscle training with a special emphasis on developing a slightly different body form, filling in muscle. We moved to a medicine ball and ended with cardio. Soaked in sweat was a good look for her. The heat of her body intensified the scents and the salt-heightened, deep floral aroma caused my mouth to water and my heart to pound.
Presley started on the treadmill. I stood off to the side by the machine’s controls and adjusted the speed. She moved at less of a clip than on Monday, but it was more than a jog in my trainer’s book. Ten minutes into the jog-run, she broke the silence.
“How long have you lived in Omaha … Jude?” She panted a little and shortened her stride.
“About a month and a half. I moved from Des Moines and live with my younger brother.”
“What’s … his name?”
“Zane. Why?”
“Well … with an awesome name like Jude … I figured his had to be something cool, too. Wasn’t … wrong.”
I smiled at her reasoning. “So, you have other plans for the weekend?”
“Probably … recovery … from girls’ night out.”
Her breathing was starting to get a little choppy and her face paled slightly. I backed her speed down and substituted a small incline.
She continued, “Maybe a bike ride. Supposed to be nice this … weekend. And then cats … and dogs, like every … Sunday.” The last sentence was on a quick exhale and she didn’t seem to be improving.
“Sounds like a good weekend. Do you ever work on the weekends?”
Her amazing chest was at eye-level, and I became engrossed in watching the rise and fall of her perfect globes.
Mesmerizing.
“Only … once … a … mon...”
Her one-word-at-a-time response and inability to finish the last word returned my attention. The tempo had compromised her breathing and her lips tinged with blue.
“Shit! Presley!” I slammed my hand on the stop button and caught her as the machine halted and her knees buckled. Cradling her in my arms, I carried her to a padded bench to lay her down, then knelt beside her head. Her eyes remained closed as her breathing wheezed in and whistled out. I checked her heart rate. Her carotid artery pulsed like a rock anthem beneath my fingers.
“Presley? Hey. Come back to me,” I whispered close to her ear and cupped the top of her head. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm as if it were tied to hers.
A shallow rasp of air exhaled from her mouth. “I’m still here, Jude.”
I skimmed her forehead with my thumb, gently. “God, you scared me. Are you okay?”
“My head is spinning, but I’m okay.” Her body flushed bright red from oxygen reentering her bloodstream. “I didn’t faint, just lost my wind.” She gulped in a breath. “Can you get my water bottle, please?”
Her breathing settled slowly, and she fought to regain her composure. I bent over her and cupped her jaw. My thumb skimmed over her fleshy, supple, baby-pink lips, and her eyes flashed opened. I held her gaze. “I’m not leaving you.”
I stood while keeping an eye on Presley. “Emerson. Emerson!”
Emerson ambled at a turtle’s pace over to the bench. “I’ve seen her do this before, Jude. It’s nothing new. She’ll be fine.”
“Please get Miss Bradenhurst a bottle of water from the staff lounge.”
“Get it yourself, Saylor.” She flipped her hair before turning her back.
“Emerson, get the bottle of water.” I gritted through my teeth. “Now!”
Emerson turned back around and her jaw tightened. “Fine!” She threw a final remark over her shoulder, “Miss Overdramatic needs to find some endurance.”
Presley squirmed with discomfort, then shook her head, her eyes clamped shut.
I squatted back down to be eye-to-eye. “Don’t give what Emerson says a second thought, she’s nothing.”
A line formed between Presley’s eyes. “Right … nothing. That’s why you’re—”
“Incoming!” Emerson yelled from about fifteen feet away, throwing me a cold water bottle.
I caught the airborne plastic rocket and turned to help Presley sit up. “Here. How do you feel now?”
“I feel like an idiot.” Presley took a long drink. “This happened with Mitch, too. I can’t go faster than a ten-minute mile. Never have been able to.” She dropped her head. “Sorry.”
I sat next to her and rested my hand at the small of her back. “You’re not an idiot, and don’t be sorry. I was too interested in our conversation. I like talking to you and I let my attention … well, I just should’ve been paying more attention.”
Presley’s head came back up, and I smiled lightly. She smiled back and our eyes connected. Even with her pupils still dilated from the distress of almost fainting, it was easy to see there was attraction and desire running like wild horses through those green beauties.
The moment seemed almost more important than anything I’d said before, to anyone. “Presley, I’d like to take you on a—”
“What the hell happened here?” Blake’s harsh voice bit through the air.
Presley’s eyes widened as she stared up at him.
Rising to my feet, I faced Blake. “I pushed her a little too hard. Guess I wanted to make a good impression, and I overdid it. Sorry, Presley, and sorry, Blake.”
Blake stalked past me to Presley. “Why don’t you come to my office and rest for a while? I don’t think you should drive. I’ll take you to work and have Jamal drive your car there later. Okay?”
“Blake, I’m fine.” Presley began to stand from the bench but her legs crumbled.
She clutched my arm for support.
“Nope, not fine.” Blake pointed a finger at me. “Jude, get her to my office now.”
I scooped Presley up and started walking. She laid her head against my shoulder, her nose nuzzled into the side of my neck. Anyone looking from the outside wouldn’t have noticed the move, but I felt it. My head spun with the thought that this woman had almost been hurt by my distraction. My heart swelled knowing she wanted this as badly as I did. And my gut churned wondering if I’d screwed up my chance with her and at Triple R.
But this is real.
There was something here, and whatever it was, I wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Chapter Seven
Presley
I’d never been so embarrassed. Except for the first time that’d happened. At least that time I’d made my way to the locker room before I’d became totally incoherent and vertically challenged. A couple of other gym patrons had stopped and asked me if I was okay, and I’d said I had cramps. It was a good cover. They’d nodded like they understood and moved on. I was sure that was where Emerson saw me.
As Jude scooped me up from the treadmill to carry me to the bench, I almost felt like I was being rescued. But from what? Myself? Everything? His warm body was comforting, and he smelled woodsy with a hint of cherry and sandalwood. My whole body tingled with want or maybe it was lack of oxygen. Whatever was happening, the reaction warmed me deep inside. Jude was beginning to ask me something that made his gold-glittered hazel eyes dart between mine. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with a deep swallow, but then a very pissed-off Blake had interrupted us.
Now Jude carried me to Blake’s office. His sultry scent inspired my body to respond and my nipples hardened through my workout bra and my pink cotton t-shirt, the tight peaks brushed against his shiny black performance shirt, causing zings of awareness to strike between my legs.
“I’ll take it from here, Jude,” Blake huffed, backing Jude out the door after he’d set me gently in a chair.
“I’d like to stay to make sure she’s okay.”