The Taylor family is iconic in the hockey world.
I come from a woman who proclaimed herself a hippie long after it was cool, barely held down a job, carted me to twelve cities, and even more schools in the eighteen years I lived at home, which never really existed outside Sharla’s 1993 maroon-colored Buick LeSabre.
Jude Taylor and I don’t only come from different tax brackets and different cities… he and I are worlds apart. Knowing what his future looks like, and what I want out of my life, I’m more determined to have nothing to do with him.
It’s that reminder that snaps me back to the present with the sting of a rubber band at my inner wrist.
I can easily fall for this guy. It’d just make me stupid to do so.
My smile falls from his teasing. “I need to get back to studying.”
His head tips to the side and his lips push out. He opens his mouth to say something, and then his expression changes back to his playful smirk. “Why do you think I’m here?”
He keeps his gaze on me as he digs into his backpack and pulls out a thick notebook. Then he grabs his phone, sticks his own earbuds into his ears, and grabs his laptop, flipping it open.
“You’re looking at me funny,” he says, eyes bouncing from his laptop to me. “Hard to peel your eyes off something this sexy, isn’t it?”
I laugh softly. He’s too much. He’s also correct. “Are you really going to study or are you going to distract me?”
Truthfully, he can distract me by his presence even if he is studying. That’s not entirely his fault though, it’s my libido’s. It’s been on hyper-drive since his hug and the texts about wanting to kiss me.
“Studying, beautiful. I’ve got a history final at eight a.m. tomorrow.”
History. It’s never interested me. “What’s your major?”
“History. Secondary education. If the whole hockey thing doesn’t pan out I want to be a high school teacher.”
“Seriously?” It’s… I’m well, stunned.
“Yeah, why not? Then I can coach high school or the youth leagues.”
He’s genuine. And honest. And I’m struck again with the fact I’ve misjudged him. I wouldn’t have thought a guy who comes from a family like his, one who’s probably worth millions, would want to be a teacher.
“You’re a good man, Jude,” I admit, my voice soft and unable to hide my awe at the simplicity of the life he’s just painted for me.
Not like it’ll happen. Barring some career-ending injury, he’ll be making millions and flying across ice in arenas all over two countries faster than I can finish my Physical Therapy Graduate Program.
He flashes me a look. “Don’t look so surprised, Katie.”
I wrinkle my nose but don’t correct him. I only let my friends call me Katie, mostly because it sounds like such a little girl name. He takes the victory and nods toward my own book.
“What about you? What’s your major?”
My pen taps on my book. “Biology for now. After I graduate, I’m staying here for graduate school for their physical therapy program.”
“Physical therapy, huh? Why? You want to get your hands all over sore, muscled men for a living?”
There’s an amused glimmer in his icy blue eyes peeking out beneath the bill of his ball cap.
“And to think… I was just beginning to like you, Jude Taylor.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “You like me. You might not want to, but you do. And I plan on sticking around until I can find out why and get you to change your mind.”
It’s a promise in his steely eyes, fierce determination etched on the features of his beautiful face.
I take it more of a threat. And for the first time since I’ve met Jude, I realize he terrifies the crap out of me.
Chapter Five
Jude insists on walking me home after the librarians start kicking out students in harsh, stern whispers. Not that I blame them. They let us stay well past the normal closing hour of midnight. Our backpacks are hitched over our shoulders. He strolls across the campus in a thick coat, hands shoved into his pockets and his ball cap pulled low on his head.
I’m bundled in a scarf, thick wool hat, and my favorite mittens and I can still feel the bite of the freezing wind through my down feather coat. My teeth chatter within minutes, making conversation difficult, and I have to hustle double time to keep up with Jude’s long strides.
“Thanks for walking me home,” I say as we turn the corner to the block where my apartment is up ahead. On the third floor, the lights to our living room are still burning bright and dozens of shadows flicker across the windows. Lizzie’s party is apparently still in full swing. “That was nice of you. Are you this protective of all the girls in your life?”
I mean it as a tease, but Jude scowls. His jaw hardens and I wonder if I’ve upset him because he pulls his hands out of his pockets and grips the straps to his backpack. Looking straight ahead, he says, “My brother’s wife was mugged a couple years ago walking home from the store. Broad daylight. She was pulled into an alley and beaten. My family was traveling, so I was the one who could get to the hospital first.”
“Oh, Jude.” I stop on the sidewalk. The freezing air turns burning hot. “I’m so sorry. Was she… is she okay?”
A muscle tics at the side of his nose. “She was fine. I mean after a few days, and they didn’t… they didn’t violate her, but they could have. And it happened in the middle of the damn day on the streets of New York. Scary shit.”
I have no words. There’s nothing I can say except another pithy I’m sorry.
“How is she now?” I ask instead, because I can’t imagine how easy it would be to recover from something that scary. I have my own scars and fears, and I haven’t experienced anything like that.
“She’s good. Firecracker, my brother calls her.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask which brother, but I’m not going to share my stalker-status with him just yet.
“Well, thank you, again.” I turn and head toward my apartment and he catches up in an easy stride.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“About my family? My brother? His wife?”
Am I that easy to read? “Why would I?”
He examines me. I can feel the weight of his stare on me as I keep my focus on my apartment up ahead. “Never mind.”
There’s laughter in his tone, but I ignore it. I’ve either surprised him or I amuse him, and right now, neither is good.
We reach the stairs and he stays on the sidewalk, scanning the empty street and walkways while I dig my keys out of my coat pocket. Had I been walking alone, they would have already been in my hand. It takes me a moment of fumbling with them through my thick mittens. Once I have my keys out and ready, I turn back to Jude.
“Thanks again for the walk home. And I guess the company wasn’t too bad either.”
He rolls his eyes at my sass. “Come to my game Friday. It’s our last one before break. Come see me play.”
I’m surprised by his sudden invitation and it takes me a minute. I should say no. I want to say yes. It’s best if I don’t go, though, and fortunately, I have a good reason.