“Chartreuse.”
“Um…if you say so.”
“So you had a birthday party planned and you’re just now asking me to go with you?” She looked a little miffed, her hands moving up from her hips to fold across her chest.
“I—”
“Did your original date stand you up?”
Oh, thanks for the excuse. Although the conclusion she’d jumped to didn’t cast him in such a great light, he nodded. Okay, it was a little white lie, but he hadn’t actually said yes. Would she lower the boom on him for not asking her sooner?
To his surprise, she too nodded. “I understand. Getting stood up really hurts.”
Ouch. He stepped on a sore spot.
Tom had never been dumped so he couldn’t speak to that, but he did have a few choice words for the jerk who’d treated Jude so shabbily. He wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her tight and tell her no one would ever hurt her again. But then that thought scared him, so he stuffed it way down inside.
“You’ll come with me?” He gave her a boyish grin and a half shrug.
“Will your sister Mica be there?” she asked. “And Joe?”
“Other side of the family,” he said.
She touched her chin with her fingers and looked pensive.
Say no, say no, say no, he prayed. His family would read all kinds of things into it if he brought Jude to the birthday party.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not? I don’t have anything else planned for the evening. See? I can be spontaneous and fun.”
“That’s terrific,” he said, not meaning it. Why had he started on this course of action in the first place?
Oh yeah. Dirk. He didn’t want to give that scoundrel an inch. Tom knew far too well how his buddy maneuvered.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Now?”
“The party’s at six and it’s across town. We need to leave now if we want to beat the traffic.”
“I should go home and change—”
“You look perfect.” And she did in that smart black turtleneck sweater and red plaid skirt with black leggings and fashion boots. “Besides, the party is ‘come as you are.’”
“Where does your aunt live exactly?”
“About half an hour west. Are you ready to go?”
“Won’t it be way out of your way to bring me here afterward for my car?”
“I don’t mind.”
“How about this? I’ll follow you.”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t mind coming back this way.”
“Hey, it’s not a real date, right?” She laughed. “I’m just filling in for the one who stood you up.”
She had him there, caught in his white lie.
“No, no,” he mumbled. “Of course not.”
“All right, then.” She rubbed her palms together and grinned. “Let’s do this thing. I’ll just grab my coat.”
While she went to the cubby, he quickly texted his mom and told her he was bringing Jude to the birthday party. Mom replied with a string of emojis signifying she was thrilled by his news.
“Ready,” Jude said, coming to stand beside him. She was bundled up in that cute white ski jacket of hers, and they walked side by side to his Mustang in the almost empty high school parking lot.
What was he getting himself into, taking Jude to a family gathering again so soon in their relationship?
Relationship?
He was officially losing his marbles. They barely knew each other. He was just trying to keep her safe from Dirk.
Sure, tell yourself pretty stories.
Okay, he liked her. Not against the law.
He pressed a palm to his forehead and watched her walk as she headed to the passenger side, stepping agilely around patches of ice. She had a deliciously cute fanny, one that he yearned to cup.
Sprinting to beat her to the passenger door so he could open it for her, Tom slipped on the ice and busted his ass. His legs went out from under him and his arms windmilled and splat.
“Oh! Oh!” Jude exclaimed, crouching beside him where he lay on the asphalt, staring up at her.
God, she had such gorgeous blue eyes.
“Are you all right? What did you hurt?”
“My pride,” he said, springing to his feet.
“Are you sure?” Frowning, she straightened and looked concerned.
“A little humiliation never killed anyone,” he quipped, dusting off his clothes.
“You don’t have to play the chivalrous knight for me,” she said. “I can open my own car door.”
“Got it.” He opened the door for her anyway.
Chuckling, she climbed inside.
“What can I say?” he asked, overwhelmed at the scholarly scent of her perfume. The woman was intoxicating, and she was just so down-to-earth.
As they pulled into traffic, Tom wondered again if taking Jude to see his family was a big mistake. She was the kind of woman you brought home to mother. His folks were bound to read things into it.
On the drive over, he filled Jude in about his relatives, picking upbeat, jovial stories to tell her, and she seemed honestly interested.
Upon arrival at his aunt and uncle’s home, he told her that his aunt Prudence and her husband Horace—since his fiftieth birthday, he preferred to be called Bud, but no one in the family remembered—had bought a small ranch style house early in their marriage and spent over thirty years embellishing it. Aluminum awnings hung in odd spots, and flower boxes with dead stalks had hearts cut into them. The walk was a maze of leafless hedges, cement garden ornaments, and big flower tubs now dormant.
He guided Jude to the front door with his hand lightly at her waist, his whole arm vibrating because her walk felt as good as it looked.
The door flew open before they could ring the bell—his aunt’s radar in action. He must have been out of his mind bringing Jude here.
His mom and her sisters swooped down on Jude the instant they stepped inside, welcoming her as if she were a long-lost relative—or the woman destined to drag a happy bachelor to his Waterloo.
“Welcome, welcome,” Aunt Pru gushed and waved them inside. “Come meet everyone. We’re tickled pink to see you again, Jude.”
Tom reluctantly trailed behind her even though he wanted to bolt. He couldn’t desert her while she ran the family gauntlet.
“Of course, I remember you,” Jude said to his Aunt Susan. “You were wearing that lovely coral dress at the wedding.”
“Come, come,” said Aunt Cathy. “All the action is in the kitchen.”
His aunts beamed. They liked Jude.
He groaned inwardly, wondering what it was about her that brought out his protective urges, and boy, did he wish that was the only urge she inspired.
Forbidden fruit, he thought unhappily. Just because he’d taken a celibacy challenge didn’t mean he could stop thinking about her in a wholly sexual way. He caught a glimpse of her perfect breasts under a soft black sweater and had to wipe his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans.
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever dated, but she was just so damn cute. Pert and bright and friendly, and watching her mingle with his family, she seemed to grow more lovely before his eyes.
Slow down, Brunswick. You’re just sex-starved.