“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re too nice. You believe the best in people.”
“You underestimate me, Brunswick.” She sounded peeved. “You have two choices. Stay here with me tonight and tomorrow tell Dirk you’re out of the competition. Or…”
Or?
Her eyes said it all. If he didn’t walk away from the bet, it was as good as admitting he did have a problem with his competitive nature and that winning meant more to him than having a relationship with Jude.
But it was no longer about the bet. Jude had conspired with Dirk against him. That’s what hurt. That’s where the knife’s blade cut deep.
In a daze, he grappled for the door handle.
“You’re leaving?” Disappointment snatched her mouth downward.
“I have to. I can’t—”
“Stand losing?”
He didn’t even reply to that, just left her apartment at a dead run, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the vestibule, and burst outside into cold air that beaded the sweat on his forehead.
Even though he’d never convince Jude otherwise, his running out on her had nothing to do with Dirk or the damnable bet.
He simply couldn’t have a casual fling with Jude. She deserved better. He had to stop seeing her. His hormones—and his heart—were going haywire. If he could just have sex with her—get her out of his system, he would. But he could not. Something deep inside told him that if he ever made love to Jude, he could not just walk away unscathed.
He hopped into the Mustang, knowing he could have enticed her to do anything, everything. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He started the engine and backed up, afraid he’d shrivel up and die if he didn’t make love to her.
It wasn’t too late to go back.
He stopped at the ramp leading to the road, too shaken to drive and aching to return to her.
Just once. If he could make love to her just once, it might break the spell she had on him. He could get back to normal; he could feel like a separate individual again, his life unfettered by an overwhelming need for her.
But he knew that was a lie. If he had sex with Jude, he would never be the same again. Some truths were just too profound to escape.
Once wouldn’t be enough, not with Jude. Not nearly enough. She’d gotten under his skin and into his heart. He wanted her in bed and out of it, but she was far too pure for him.
Now he understood why her fiancé had left her at the altar. It had nothing to do with Jude and everything to do with Jaxon’s own inadequacies.
Inadequacies Tom shared.
And he just wasn’t ready to face them yet.
14
Tom’s Autumn Fling Sale was in full swing, and business was good enough to hire another part-time person. He even had a shop-late week, staying open until ten every night. He worked the extra hours himself, too tired to do anything but drop into bed at the end of fourteen-hour days.
It was better than moping around his apartment missing Jude.
He’d picked up the phone to call or text her a dozen times in the past two weeks, but what could he say? She believed he couldn’t control his competitive nature, and he believed she was far too nice for a guy like him.
He’d be okay when the hollow ache went away.
Meanwhile, he couldn’t risk seeing Jude again—or even talking to her on the phone. He had the unfortunate habit, where she was concerned, of opening his mouth when his brain was on hold.
After he left Jude’s house that night, Tom texted Dirk. U Win.
Dirk replied with a suitable amount of gloating and then invited Tom to play pool at The Loophole.
Tom did not go. In fact, he didn’t even text Dirk back. Their relationship was nothing but an ongoing competition. Always had been and always would be if he decided to continue the friendship.
Which he was not inclined to do. He disliked how his buddy had used Jude, but he didn’t even bother to tell Dirk that he knew what he’d done, recruiting Jude to help him win. The guy would stoop to anything for a score.
You’re the same way.
No, he wasn’t. Not anymore. Not since he’d met Jude.
Shaking his head, Tom returned to the task at hand, sanding a small computer desk a regular customer had commissioned for her daughter to use when she went off to college.
He was alone in the back of the store when the bell over the door jangled. Wiping his palms on the seat of his jeans, he sauntered into the main part of the store and saw his twin sister striding toward him.
Tara seemed to glow, and he had to admit, marriage agreed with her. Unlike his own dark hair, hers was newly highlighted with threads of gold. When he looked in the mirror, he saw lackluster brown eyes with fatigue shadows. Hers had sparkle.
“Hi, sis. You’re lookin’ good.”
“Thank you,” she beamed.
“Mom left early,” he said. “She had an appointment with her CPA.”
“I didn’t come to see Mom.”
“Huh.”
“I’ve been in my honeymoon bubble, but I had to find out what’s going on with you.”
“Me? Nothing’s going on with me.”
“The aunties and Mom are worried. You haven’t accepted any family invitations and you haven’t been returning texts or calls.” She wagged a finger. “I don’t know what’s happening with you—”
“It’s called working hard.”
“Hmph. That’s an excuse.” She tossed her head. “Anyway, the aunties are badgering me to find out if you’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner or not. Since you didn’t answer my texts either, I decided to check on you to see if you were still alive.”
He shrugged, not bothering to argue with a woman who’d shared his bathwater more than a quarter century ago.
“The aunties also want to know if you’re coming to Thanksgiving and will Jude be your plus one. By the way, dinner is at two p.m. and Pru says be on time or else!”
Aah, there it was. His family’s motivation for sending Tara over here. To find out if he and Jude were still an item.
“I’ll be at Thanksgiving…” He paused. “Without a plus one.”
“Oh, really, Tom?” His sister looked practically heartbroken.
“It’s fine.”
“I really liked Jude. What did you do to send this one running for the hills?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Ooh, little brother is getting pissy. You know I’m asking myself why.”
He wasn’t rising to the bait and telling her anything about Jude. “I’m only two minutes younger.”
“And those two minutes make all the difference,” she teased, and then her tone turned sympathetic. “It must have been a tough breakup if you’re not willing to talk about it.”
“We didn’t break up. We were never together. You can’t break up with someone you’re not with.”
“Jude might see things differently.”
“What do you mean?” He scowled.
“For a smart guy, you sure can be dense sometimes,” she said and walked right out the door.