Mister Baller - Cassie-Ann L. Miller Page 0,13

fumble. I open my mouth, but instead of words, there’s hair in my mouth.

Dignity once again in peril, I gracelessly spit out my strands and try to smooth down my blonde frizzy mess. In the process, my fingers brush the wet stream trailing down my jawline.

Oh my lord. Can I catch a break?

While I hurry to wipe the drool from my face, Jude is openly watching me in amusement. One corner of his mouth swings into that infuriating half-smile of his. This is so embarrassing.

To hide his smirk, he brings a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. I don’t bother to tell him it’s probably stale. Go on smirking, asshole. He won’t be so smug when he takes his first bite of that cardboard.

Needing to move his attention from my latest mortification, I turn my focus to the empty mug on the table beside me. “I ran out of coffee. Sorry.”

I finished off the last serving of caffeine some time around midnight when I was valiantly trying to stay awake through another e-commerce webinar.

He swallows heavily and grimaces at his bowl. He picks up the cereal box to inspect it. That box had been sitting in the pantry long before Kirk left.

I snort-laugh at his grossed-out expression and try to camouflage it as a sneeze. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“No worries. I prefer tea." Distractedly, he jerks his chin at the steaming teacup on the counter beside him. He puts down the box. “Anyway, I’ll swing by the grocery store today to pick up some things. Stealing your cereal was a one-time offense. I promise.” Now his attention is on me. Fully. He offers a smile that’s surprisingly boyish. “Good morning, by the way.” His politeness catches me off guard.

“Good...morning.” I brush breadcrumbs from my forehead and tuck in my bra strap. I’m pretty sure I’ve got sleep lines all over my face. Self-conscious, I try not to imagine what I must look like to him.

“I really didn’t mean to wake you. You seemed pretty out of it there. I just needed some calories before heading to my physiotherapy.” He lifts his cereal bowl.

“Yeah, sure. That’s okay. Yes.”

We stare silently for a while. Then, he limps closer to the table and takes a seat across from me. I inhale instinctively, packing my lungs with his clean, male scent. I’ve always loved that smell on a man, but Jude is pulling it off better than anyone.

Now my weak, traitorous mind won’t stop imagining my ex’s best friend in my shower.

My body tightens, and things get warm on the inside. In my head is a movie of him, soaping up his tight, tanned body, bubbles trailing between his strong fingers as he runs them over his muscled biceps, down his hard chest and his tight abs and lower to his…

Is that 1980s porno music I hear in the background?

What?!

Obviously, someone unplugged my brain from the ‘common sense’ socket while I was asleep.

I need to snap myself out of this ridiculous and inappropriate fantasy. I hate Jude Kingston, and that’s all there is to it. So what if he’s got the greatest body within hundreds of miles? He’s an asshole.

Jude takes a seat across from me at the table. The stale cereal is giving his square, chiseled jaw a real workout. He hasn’t commented on it though so I pretend not to notice.

But he’s too close again and I can't escape the weight of his heavy stare.

Wanting to look busy, I drop my focus to my phone. I’ve got a bunch of text messages waiting that came in overnight. A few from Lexi apologizing again and promising to let me name her first-born as a thank you for letting Jude stay with me. Smiling at my phone, I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

The rest of the messages came in from Penny at three in the morning, around the end of her shift at the Frosty Pitcher.

Penny: You rented your spare room to Jude Kingston?! I know how you feel about him. Are you okay?

Penny: Got the promotion at work, btw!!!

Penny: The girls and I are coming over tomorrow to check on you.

Penny: And to celebrate.

Penny: And to make Jude Kingston-faced voodoo dolls, if needed.

Penny: 5:30? Sound good?

I smile at her concern as I type out a reply, confirming that 5:30 works for me. Penny may be my cousin but we grew up under the same roof and she’s the closest thing I have to a sister. She knows about my history

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