Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
There’s a knock at the front door.
“Who’s missing?” I ask, looking through to the kitchen. “Where’s Rachel?”
“Emptying the dishwasher.”
“Oh, sister,” Clark calls in an annoying singsong voice.
I look toward the door that leads into the hallway, getting up from the couch.
“Who is it?” Grandpa calls as I leave the room.
I find Clark at the open front door. “What’s up?”
He looks back at me with raised, accusing brows. “Someone for you.” Then he moves.
Revealing Jude.
My mouth goes lax, all bodily functions abandoning me. “Jude,” I breathe, stock-still on the spot. Fuck, what the hell is he playing at?
He holds something up. “You left your phone in my car when you were rushing to escape me.”
Clark looks between us, interested. “We’ve met,” he says to Jude, holding out a hand. “Although not formally.”
Jude smiles through straight lips, accepting and shaking. “Apologies again.”
“No sweat.” My brother narrows one eye my way. “It’s all beginning to make sense.”
I pass Clark, panicked, and step outside, pulling the door closed behind me. “Thank you,” I say, taking my phone and faffing with it in my hand, unlocking the screen, locking it again.
“Welcome,” Jude murmurs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Amelia, for the sake of clarity and for the avoidance of doubt, I don’t date more than one woman at a time.”
There’s that word again. Dating. I peek up at him.
“In fact,” he goes on, his rolling jaw indicating his mood, along with his darkening eyes. “I don’t usually date at all.”
So he just fucks women? Seduces them and gets them into bed? One at a time. I close my eyes and breathe out. I feel like I’m going mad. Yesterday wasn’t a date. Dates aren’t that amazing.
“I’m not looking for anything serious,” I say quietly. It’s the truth, and I need reminding of that. Especially after last night.
“Are you for real?” Jude nearly chokes over his words. “Because last night felt pretty fucking serious.”
And isn’t that my point? “Jude, this is all happening very fast.”
“Deal with it,” he snaps. “I am.”
I shrink, my head a mess of conflicting thoughts. I don’t know what’s happening with Jude, but I do know how I felt when I saw that message appear on his screen. Jealous. Injured. Vulnerable. I’m not ready for this.
I look over my shoulder to the closed door. “I have to go.”
“You don’t want them to know you’ve met someone?” he asks.
Met someone? It’s inadequate. Blindsided, derailed, smitten. “I don’t want them thinking that it’s more than it is.”
“What is it, Amelia?” he asks, his voice softening.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think you might figure it out soon and let me know?”
I brave facing him and wish I hadn’t. He does not look happy. “There’s no need to be like that.”
“Yes, there is,” he barks, and I flinch. “Remember last night? This morning?” He moves in closer, and I retreat, scared for him to touch me. Scared I’ll get a waft of his lovely cologne. Scared he’ll saturate every sense I have. I need to think. I need space. “Right,” he says. Then he laughs under his breath, the sound far from amused. Anger. I see it brewing in him, his dark eyes darkening further. “You win.” He turns and stalks off, and I wilt, folding on the inside. My brain is asking me what the hell I’m playing at, sabotaging something amazing. My heart? That’s cheering me on, backing me up. Protecting itself.
It’s an all-out war going on inside me.
I back into the hallway and take a moment to compose myself, giving Clark a warning look.
“So who was it?” Grandma calls.
“Just a salesman,” I say, heading to the kitchen at the back of the house, my heart sinking. My head a mess.
I win?
So why do I feel like I’ve just lost?
Chapter 21
“So you had the best time of your life and then ended it?” Abbie asks from the treadmill beside me. “I don’t get it. Well, I do; you’re falling for him. You’re scared. You should have just asked him about the message. What it said. Who she is. We’re all adults.”
“I don’t want him to think I’m some crazed, possessive, dramatic woman.”
“Well, that’s very gallant of you, considering his reaction when he saw you talking to another man.”
“And kissing another man,” I grumble.
Abbie chuckles. “I still can’t believe you did that. Look, we all know you’re not crazed, dramatic, and jealous.”
I felt jealous. God, I don’t want to be that woman. Of course a man like Jude Harrison has a history. We all do. But history doesn’t text you repeatedly. I grimace. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Like what? What’s more interesting than your current mindfuck over a disgustingly handsome millionaire?”
“How’s Mum getting on at the shop?”
“Oh, yay,” Abbie drones. “So interesting.”
I scowl and increase the pace on the machine. Hopefully I’ll soon be so out of breath, I physically won’t be able to talk.