I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t help but laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much. It seemed weird that of all people it would be Jude that made me laugh again, but then again maybe it was appropriate.
Wiping away all traces of blood, I inspected his face.
“You know,” he started, “it’s kind of funny that I’m the nurse and you’re the one taking care of me.”
“I’m not the one that got punched,” I replied easily. “Everything looks fine. You might bruise though.”
“Tate,” he whispered my name and I found myself held in his brown-eyed gaze. It was like I was hypnotized—caught in his trap.
Before I could reply, or do anything, one of his hands cupped the nape of my neck and drew me close. My breath fanned out of my lips and my heart beat rapidly. It was like everything was moving super fast, but super slow at the same time. It was weird.
He closed the distance between us and sealed my lips with his.
I lost control of my body, leaning into him as he devoured me. I let out a small moan and my fingers tangled in the soft strands of his brown hair. I never wanted to let go. His tongue pressed against my lips, seeking entrance. Nothing had ever felt this good. This was so much more than a kiss. I couldn’t get close enough to him. Our bodies lined up perfectly and my chest pressed against his as I leaned closer.
“Tate,” he breathed my name in the space between our lips.
I startled at the sound of his voice. I jolted away from him, breaking the kiss. It was like my hand had a mind of its own as it flew out and smacked his cheek. His head swiveled to the side, stunned by my action.
I used the same hand to cover my mouth as I gasped, “I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what made me do that!”
“Jesus Christ,” he rubbed his cheek, “what is today? Everyone-smack-Jude-in-the-face-day?” He started to laugh and I was tempted to hit him again.
“It’s not funny.”
“You’re right, it’s hysterical,” he countered.
I felt defensive so I took a few steps back and straightened my clothes. “Never kiss me ever again.” I turned hastily, pushing open the bathroom door and out into the hallway. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Aw, come on, Tate!” Jude called after me. “You know you liked it!”
Didn’t he know that was the problem?
“It was gross,” I called over my shoulder. “I felt like I was drowning in saliva.”
“Oh, Tater Tot,” he laughed, “that’s a new one. Most people love my kisses,” he grinned. He caught up to me easily, slinging his arm over my shoulders as I pushed the door open and stepped outside. I hoped that guy had left. I’d hate to run into him again.
“I’m not most people,” I retorted.
“You’re not,” he agreed.
“Oh, crap!” I exclaimed suddenly, stopping in my tracks.
“What is it?” Jude asked, stopping as well and looking at me quizzically.
“My books!” I cried, burying my face in my hands.
“Don’t worry about them, we’ll just go back and get them,” he turned, ready to head back in the direction of the bathrooms.
“They’re not there,” I put a hand on his arm to halt him. “I threw them down on the ground when I jumped between you and that guy.”
Jude gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “You mean that you threw those poor defenseless books so you could help me? I’m honored.”
“You’re such an ass,” I groaned, looking around to get my bearings on campus, so I could head back in the direction we came from. I really hoped they were still there. Nibbling my lower lip, I looked up at Jude. “What if someone took them?”
He shrugged. “So what? It’s not the worst thing that could happen. At least you’re alive.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled. “That makes me feel loads better.”
A grin spread across his face. “Glad I could be of assistance.” When I headed in the wrong direction, he grabbed my arm. “Nuh-uh, pretty girl, it’s this way.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, with eyes downcast.
“You know,” he grinned boyishly, “I think I need to change your nickname to Rambo.”
I rolled my eyes. “How about no nicknames?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He countered.
We approached the area where I’d seen him arguing with the guy and I scanned the ground for my books. Luckily, they were there. Albeit, covered in dirt. I picked them up, brushing off the debris.
“You ready to go?” Jude asked as he pulled his keys from his pocket.
After the kiss, I thought maybe I should back out, but this was for my paper and Jude would know what was up if I said I needed to go home. “Yeah.”
He seemed surprised. “Good, let’s go. We’re running late and I didn’t have time to change into my scrubs.”
We rode in silence on the way to the nursing home—neither of us acknowledging the kiss. I knew it wouldn’t be long until Jude had to say something. He wasn’t the kind of guy to keep quite about something like that.
Jude didn’t bring up the kiss until we were almost back to campus so I could get my car.
“We haven’t asked any questions today,” he smiled. “You first.”
“Did you really sleep with that guy’s girlfriend?” I asked immediately. It had been bugging me. Even though Jude had denied it to the guy he could’ve been lying. The answer shouldn’t have mattered to me, but for some reason it did.
“I didn’t,” he assured me, sincerity shining in the depths of his eyes. “I don’t know why he thinks I did, but I didn’t. In fact,” he looked at me significantly, “I haven’t slept with anyone for weeks.” I blanched at his words. Was he saying that he’d given up his man-whore ways because he was spending time with me? I couldn’t even begin to process that information. Rowan had said as much but it still baffled me. “My turn,” he said, straightening in his seat. I waited for him to ask his question, but after a long moment of silence I figured he couldn’t think of anything. Finally, his voice filled the cab of the truck, and the next words he spoke echoed around my skull. “Can I kiss you again?”
Jude Brooks was asking me for permission? This was new.
“I thought you were the kind of guy who takes what he wants and doesn’t ask questions?” I replied.
“You’re right,” he grinned, and I knew I was in trouble.
As the truck came to a stop at a red light he grabbed the back of my neck and tugged my body against his, sealing his lips over mine. Every time his lips touched mine it was like he stole a piece of my soul and made it his.
This time, I didn’t pull away—or slap him like I should have—instead I let myself feel. I’d closed myself off from my emotions for so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like to have this scary, stirring of butterflies feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t believe it was Jude of all people making me feel this way, but a kiss was innocent enough, right? Well, maybe not this kiss, ‘cause it was pretty freakin’ hot.
The cars honking behind us was what finally tore us apart.
“I’m going to do that again sometime,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over my lips before pressing the gas and taking off.
I felt giddy, almost high, from the kiss. I wanted to hate it, God I really did, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t know the exact moment that Jude paved a way into my heart, all that mattered was he did, and I was never going to be the same once I gave in completely.
I was surprised to see my dad’s car in the driveway. While it was late, it wasn’t that late and even before Graham died he’d never been home at this time. Nowadays he rarely even bothered to come home to sleep. I didn’t know where he stayed most nights. My guess was that it wasn’t at his office. I didn’t like to think about the possibility of my dad cheating on my mom, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think he hadn’t.
I stepped inside, looki
ng around for him. I didn’t see him, though. He was probably only home to grab something before leaving once more. It was what I’d come to expect. In the last six months, I’d only seen him a handful of times. There were other times I’d known he’d been home, the evidence left sitting around in the form of mugs of coffee and packets of sugar.
My mom sat on the family room couch. I stepped into the room and kissed her forehead. “I’ll make dinner mom.”
She didn’t acknowledge my words. I didn’t expect her to. It would shock me if I ever heard her voice again. I honestly wondered why my dad had never tried to get her help. Maybe he knew it was hopeless.
In the kitchen I pulled out ingredients to make fettuccine alfredo. I loved pasta, and would live off the stuff if I weren’t afraid of clogging my arteries.
I grabbed my iPod, set it on the docking station, and let the music filter into the too quiet kitchen. I didn’t think it would ever stop bothering me that so few words were spoken in this house anymore.
I was humming along to a song, when I heard, “Tatum.”
I jumped, letting out a squeal. The spoon I’d been using to stir the sauce went flying through the air and landed on the floor, sauce splattering everywhere.
“Hi, dad,” I squeaked, taking in the tall man in front of me. He was slimmer than the last time I saw him, his light hair mostly gray now. Lines that weren’t there a few months ago turned his mouth down in a permanent frown. My dad had never been a happy man anyway.
“It’s nice to see you.” His voice was low and gravelly.
“Uh, yeah,” I tucked a piece of blonde hair behind my ear, feeling über awkward, “it’s nice to see you too?” For some reason it came out sounding like a question.
“What are you making?” He asked, peering around me to get a look at the pots on the stove.
“Fettuccine alfredo,” I replied.
“Oh,” he nodded.
“Are you staying for dinner?” I dared to ask.
“No.”
Of course. I expected it, but it still hurt.
“Alright,” I sighed, picking the spoon off the floor and tossing it in the sink. I grabbed another from the drawer and returned to making dinner after cleaning up the mess. “I’ll see you later, dad.” And by later I meant a month from now.
“Bye kiddo,” he said from the doorway. Minutes passed, and I thought he’d left, but then he said, “You seem happy.”
By the time I whipped around, he was gone and I was left mulling over his words.
I was happy, and that was all thanks to the guy I was hell-bent on hating.
They always said hate was as passionate as love. I was starting to see how true that was.
Chapter Ten
“Twizzlers, milady,” Jude sing-songed, dropping a plastic bag from Sheetz in front of me.
I looked in the plastic green bag and pulled out the pack of Twizzlers. “You’re awesome.” I tore open the wrapping and pulled out one of the red pieces of licorice.
“You look like you need a pick me up,” he shrugged, sliding out the chair across from me. “I wanted some gummy bears,” he shook another bag in his hand, “so when I saw those I thought I’d get them for you.”
“Thank you,” I told him, taking another bite. I stared at the computer screen in front of me, wishing the words would magically appear. I was still having trouble with my paper—the one Jude was helping me with. I couldn’t seem to find the proper words to convey what I needed to say. I wanted my words to be powerful, and everything I wrote sounded weak to me.
“Where’s Rowan?” He asked, looking around the library.
“She must be running late,” I shrugged, glaring at the damn blinking cursor on my word document. I swore the thin black line was mocking me.
“Having trouble?” He asked, opening the bag of gummy bears and popping a green one in his mouth. I detested the green ones. And the yellow ones. Actually, I hated all gummy bears after my last incident with them. Nasty little things. They looked so cute and innocent with their tiny bodies and little faces. Douse them in vodka and they could take out anyone.
“Can you get those away from me?” I pointed at the bag of gummy bears, fighting my gag reflex. He slid the bag on his lap, chuckling under his breath. “And yes, I’m having trouble. I can’t get my paper to sound right,” I frowned. “I feel like I can’t convey the proper emotions.”
“Well,” he started, chewing on an orange gummy bear, “why don’t you try not overthinking it.”
“It’s not that simple,” I mumbled, musing my hair—I was sure it looked like a rat’s nest with as many times as I had ruffled it in the last hour.
“Yes it is,” he argued, propping his feet up on the table. “You have to let yourself feel.”
“Feeling gets me in trouble,” I mumbled. Like letting Jude kiss me again in his truck. I shouldn’t have let him do that. But I did and it was amazing, but now I felt conflicted. He was breaking down all the walls I’d spent the last seven years building around my heart. He was forging a special place in there for himself and I didn’t know what I’d do when he inevitably screwed it up. A person could only be hurt so many times before they fell apart completely, and I thought I’d met my quota.
“Is it that it gets you in trouble?” He repeated my words. “Or that it scares you?” He tapped his fingers along the wooden tabletop. “Never let fear dictate your life.”
“Why do I feel like we’re no longer talking about my paper?” I breathed.
“Because, we’re not.” He took off the beanie he wore, tousled his hair, and replaced it.
“You don’t scare me.” I stated, tilting my head slightly to the side.
“I know I don’t,” he replied immediately. He leaned forward and his voice dropped low, like he was letting me in on a secret. “But what you feel for me…that’s what scares you.”
I squirmed in my seat. “That’s not true.”
“You’re such a bad liar, I almost feel sorry for you,” he replied, returning to his previous position with his legs perched on the table.
I ignored him and went back to staring at my computer screen. With a groan of frustration I saved what I had written and slammed the lid closed. “This is pointless.”
“Want to go get ice cream?” He suggested. “I hear that makes everything better.”
“Didn’t you just eat a whole bag of gummy bears?”
“It was half a bag. Big difference,” he grinned, letting his feet drop to the ground. He stood and stretched his arms above his head. The movement caused his shirt to ride up, exposing the bottom of his smooth stomach. I wished I wasn’t staring, but I was. I was looking at him a lot lately, and not with hate in my eyes. What had become of me? “What do you say? Ice cream?”
He must’ve known I could never say no to ice cream.
“Sure.” I stood, packing up my stuff. It wasn’t like I’d been getting a lot accomplished anyway.
On our way out of the library we ran into Rowan. She paused in her steps and her grin said it all—she was exited at the idea of Jude and I spending time alone.
“Where are you guys going?” She asked, adjusting her hold on her books.
“To get ice cream,” Jude replied.
“Ice cream?” With her smile widening, she said, “I notice you didn’t invite me.”
Jude’s smile mirrored hers. Looking from me to Rowan, he shrugged. “You wanna get ice cream? I’m buying.”
“No, but thanks anyway.” She suppressed a laugh, hiding her growing smile behind her free hand.
“See you later, Row,” Jude lowered his head and kissed her cheek before running out the doors.
Shaking her head Rowan looked at me and muttered, “That boy.”
Those two words summed up Jude perfectly.
With a quick wave I mumbled goodbye to Rowan.
Jude waited outside on the steps for me. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans and he looked out towards the parking lot. The sun created a golden h
alo around him. If I was honest with myself, he took my breath away. I think maybe he always had. Even before Graham died, I’d always been one to deny my feelings. I bottled them up and stored them away carefully in neat little drawers, never to be peeked at again. I always did whatever it took not to get hurt. Even if it meant holding myself back.
I didn’t bother suggesting that we take separate cars. I knew Jude would veto that idea immediately.
Once in his old blue truck, he turned the heat on and glanced at me before backing out. “Do I get to ask you a question today?”
“You just did.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” He chanted. “You’re so clever, Tater Tot.”
“I detect sarcasm in your tone.” I did my best to keep from smiling. I failed.
“You do indeed. But I do actually think you’re the smartest person I know.” His tone was serious.
“Thank you,” I told him, a bit taken aback.
“You’re also the prettiest.”
I held up a hand. “Quit while you’re ahead, Brooks.”
He chuckled, scratching his lightly stubbled jaw. “Okay, okay. But you never actually answered my question.”
“You can ask me whatever you want,” I shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Hmm,” he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, driving into the old part of town. “Why do you want to be a journalist?”
“Because I want to write about things that matter,” I replied immediately, without a second of thought. “If I can make a difference with something I wrote…well, that would be the best feeling in the world.” A small smile touched my lips. “You know, I think you’re the first person to ask me that.”
“I think that’s a pretty amazing answer,” he whispered, his eyes a dark stormy brown when he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
I racked my brain for a question to ask him. I finally settled on, “When can I go back to the farm?”
He glanced at me, adjusting his hold on the steering wheel. I expected him to laugh or say something mocking, but he did neither. Jude Brooks was full of surprises.
“Whenever you want, pretty girl.” He smiled over at me—a genuine smile too, not one of the cocky ones he always seemed to wear. “I’m surprised you like it there.”
Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4) Page 10