When Kirk moved out, I purposely limited my football watching. Years of being forced to religiously sit through Sports Center, just so my ex-husband could complain about not being drafted to the big leagues sort of soured me on the game of football after he left.
But if I hadn’t steered clear of the sports networks, I wouldn’t be so stunned right now by how remarkably Jude grew into a man.
I internally kick myself for ogling him. This man was the primary reason that Kirk was such a pisspoor boyfriend back in college. Jude was the worst kind of influence and Kirk was all too eager to serve as wing-man to the captain of the football team. Where Jude went, Kirk followed. And usually, Jude was headed somewhere dubious. Somewhere with loose girls and free flowing alcohol.
Needless to say, Jude and I weren’t friends. We warred for Kirk’s time and attention. Sometimes I felt like he made himself an obstacle on purpose. He probably enjoyed the thought of me pining away alone while my boyfriend was running around campus like a carefree bachelor.
Again, I remind myself to put my grudge aside. The money he’s paying for renting my spare bedroom will make this crazy, crazy situation more bearable.
If I have to sleep—um, live—with the enemy for a couple weeks to catch up on my bills, then so be it.
Soon, we're back in the living room. Again, when I turn around, Jude is blocking my path, standing there, seemingly in no rush to move, examining my face, making me feel like a thing under a microscope. It’s almost as if there’s something he wants to say but he’s holding back.
Needing something to do with my hands, I focus on straightening the picture frame Jude set on the mantle a few moments ago. I have to deliberately remind myself that I’m no longer that awkward college girl who felt excluded by the cool guy. Jude always did have a way of making me feel a little unsure of myself, like I didn’t measure up. But this is the adult world. I have adult responsibilities. It’s time I act accordingly.
I clear my throat. “Upstairs?” I suggest.
He budges a half-step and another bolt of agony flashes through his expression.
He grunts, blinks, nods.
Wow—this guy is in a lot more pain than I expected.
Before my sympathy can grow roots, that carefree smirk is right back on his face. He sweeps an arm through the air. “After you.”
Then, he’s following me up the stairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
I find myself moving slowly so Jude doesn't feel pressured to keep up with my pace and put extra strain on his knee.
In any case, I'm the one at risk of tripping and falling flat on my face. Enemy or not, my body knows there’s a delicious man in proximity, and instantly switches to self-conscious mode. I think I feel his eyes on my enormous ass, and he's probably judging me.
I know it's silly but it's hard not to feel self-conscious. I’m guessing he only dates fashion models with butt cheeks like firm, little tangerines and here I am, looking like I stuffed a keg down the back of my pants.
When we get to the landing, Foxxy Cleopatra—Foxxy, for short—makes a guilty dash out of the hall linen closet into the bathroom. “You know you’re not allowed in there, you sneaky little thing,” I mutter and I hear Jude chuckle low from behind me.
I point out the two bedrooms, quickly motioning to mine before walking him through the accommodations he’ll call his own.
I stand at the doorjamb as he explores the tiny space. “It’s furnished, as you probably saw in the website pictures. But you can rearrange as needed.” I step back into the hall, and I can feel him on my tail without looking up. “I have my own ensuite bathroom, so the hall bathroom is all yours.”
I glance around the narrow space, chewing on my lip, trying to remember if there’s anything else to cover. It’s really hard to think right now with him all in my personal bubble.
We stop in front of the hall linen closet. I open the door, grabbing a bath towel. For good measure, I slap a hand towel on top of it.
When I turn to hand it to him, Jude is yet again closer than I expected.
I get another hit of his manly scent. I want to huff him. That mouthwatering scent of his should