Cole (24 page)

Jude crossed his hands in front of his face. “Holy shit, that is frightening.”

I threw my pillow at him, which he deftly snatched from the air before it made contact. He sat on the edge of my bed, and once again, I was acutely aware of his nearness as if electric charges were sparking between us.

“Thank you, by the way.” My eyes watered again. I’d had unwanted advances from guys before but I’d never been as scared as I had been this time. “Let’s not tell Finley.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Hopefully people are already too wasted to relay the story. At the moment, she’s busy swooning over Max.”

“Is he a trustworthy guy?” I felt better switching subjects and getting my mind off of my traumatic experience.

“Max is all right.” Jude combed his fingers through his black hair and it stuck out in every direction. I’d been so busy surviving the party, I hadn’t noticed just how heartbreaking he looked in his black t-shirt and jeans. “Fin has had a thing for the guy for the last three years. And I think he’s always liked her, but—”

“But he doesn’t realize how bad her problems are?”

“I don’t think Cole talks about it much. Just like my dad, he kind of likes to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. I don’t want her to get hurt. It’s the last thing she needs.”

“Your sister might be dealing with some things, but she has an incredible grasp on people and the world. I don’t think she’ll lose her head over him. He’s just a guy, after all,” I added with a grin.

“I’d say you’ve got a pretty incredible grasp yourself there, Valley. You’ve known my sister for a few days and it’s as if you’ve known her a lifetime.” 

“I feel like I’ve known her a lifetime. Hey, she mentioned you were pissed at Cole for inviting someone you didn’t want to see. Was that sleazebag, Mike, the guy?”

He shook his head. “Nope. That was a different sleazebag. Although after tonight, Mike’s definitely the king of sleaze. The other guy didn’t show. I think Cole told him not to come after my subtle warning.”

I laughed. “Was it anything like the subtle warning you gave Mike? I thought he was going to pee his pants. It would have been so great if he had. Who was this guy that you disinvited?”

“He’s the reason I’m wearing this thing.” He held up his ankle. “His cocaine, my freedom. I got pulled over in my car for speeding, and the fool dropped it between the seats. But my sentence is almost done now.”

“Then I guess you’ll be leaving soon?”

“Did Fin tell you that?” The green in his eyes moved from light gray to green depending on the light.

“She mentioned you’d be out of here once they took it off.”

He nodded and pushed up from the bed. He stared down at me and the electricity I’d felt when he sat near me only intensified. “So you’ve never lost your head over a guy?”

The way he looked at me had knocked the breath from me, and it took me a moment to find the air to speak. “Nope, never.”

His mouth turned up on one side. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet.” He walked to the door, opened it, and looked back. “I guess we can call the bet a draw since unforeseen circumstances got in the way.”

“No, you won fair and square. But I have to warn you, I’m a boring subject for a painting.”

“Trust me, Valley, you’re anything but boring.” He shut the door behind him.

Chapter 11

I sat in bed reading, waiting for Finley to wake up. I could still hear voices downstairs as if people were just sobering up enough to leave. Her knock came earlier than I’d expected.

She raced across the floor and jumped into my bed reminding me of my little sisters. “So much fun last night.” She flopped back and brought her hands to her heart. “He’s just as awesome as ever.” She sprang up to sit. When she was excited about something, she tended to move quickly and without warning like a hummingbird. “I hope you weren’t too bored. I didn’t see you much.” She grabbed my hand and her eyes went wide. “Supposedly Jude had to come to some girl’s rescue last night in the garden. The guy he kicked out is a real jerk. Everyone was happy to see him go. Did you see any of it?” she asked.

“No. I got hit with a nasty headache, so I turned in early.”

“Your eyes do look a little swollen. How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m feeling a lot better, thanks.”

She slid off the bed. “Well, Becky will be here in an hour to do our tattoos, so I’ll meet you down in the kitchen.” She skittered across the floor like an excited little kid. It was fun to see her so happy, but there was always that unnerving feeling that her mood could change instantly. “Jude drew me the cutest picture of Some Pig. I can’t wait to have Becky put it on my shoulder.” She flew out of the room.

Several pairs of unfamiliar bloodshot eyes peered up over the back of the couch when I stepped into the kitchen. They didn’t look terribly pleased with the clamor Finley was making. It was obvious she was being extra noisy on purpose. Even Some Pig seemed to be snorting in his food with extra loud zeal.

“Eggs all right?” she asked.

“Yep.

“Maybe we should add some onions and anchovies,” she said loudly in the direction of the couch. Groans of nausea followed the lingering party guests out of the room. “Ta ta and don’t let the door hit you on your sorry ass on the way out.”

“Uh, you were just kidding about the onions and anchovies, right?”

“Heck yeah. That would be gross even without a hangover.”

We sat to eat, but Finley just picked through the eggs and daydreamed with starry eyes.

I picked up a forkful. “You look like you’re stuck in fairy tale land.”

“I am. He’s just as funny and dreamy as ever,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure he likes me too.”

“Pretty sure? You two sat and talked together as if you were completely alone. An entire party went on around you, but neither of you were aware of it.” Momentarily memories of the horrid night flashed through my mind, but I pushed them back out of reach. Finley had been so absorbed in her evening with Max, she’d only heard vague rumors of what had happened, and I planned to keep it that way. It wasn’t anything she needed to hear about, and I definitely didn’t ever want to talk about it.

Finley stretched up and pulled a folded paper from her pocket. “Here’s the sketch for my tattoo.”

I looked at the drawing. Jude had captured the very essence of Some Pig in the simple drawing. “He’s truly talented.”

Finley smiled with admiration at her pig who was vacuuming up the rest of his food. “Yes, yes he is.”

“I meant your brother.” I thought about the bet and posing for him and wondered if I could endure it. I’d become absurdly self-conscious in his presence. And then there was the annoying trembling and fidgeting whenever he looked at me for longer than a second, which seemed to happen a lot. Standing for one of his paintings would definitely be nerve-wracking.

“Oh, of course. He’s definitely talented. He really wanted to go to art school, but my dad wasn’t very supportive. He wanted Jude to run the construction company. They had a huge fight about it, and Jude threw his fist through a wall. He broke three fingers. For a while it seemed he would never paint again.” She shook her head. “Jude has always been his own worst enemy.”

Tilly announced Becky’s arrival through the intercom.

“She’s early,” Finley said excitedly. “Do you want to go first? I have to warn you, it does hurt a bit.”

“I figured it was a little harsher than the rub-on ones I wore on Halloween. Why don’t you go first. I’m not completely sure I’m going to go through with it yet. I mean tattoos are really permanent.”

“What tattoo?” Neither of us had heard Jude walk into the kitchen. He looked at me. “You’re getting a tattoo?” I sensed some disapproval in his tone.

“Maybe.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Finley said, “but she’s going to get a spray of stars on her shoulder.”

“Maybe,” I repeated.

Finley looked a bit disappointed by my lack of commitment. “My tattoo is going to take a few hours, so you have plenty of time to decide. But I think it would look awesome. Do you want to watch me get mine?”

“I’m pretty sure that would make me decide against a tattoo. I’m sort of squeamish about needles.”

“Good, then you can pose for a painting while you’re waiting,” Jude said. “I’ve got a canvas ready.”

Finley looked at me with round eyes. “You’re going to pose for him?” It was hard to read if she was horrified or intrigued by the news.

I opened my mouth to answer but Jude spoke for me. “Yep, she is. Let’s go, Valley, while the light is still good.” He headed out.

Finley was uncharacteristically silent as I carried the plates to the sink.

“If you don’t want me to pose, I won’t.”

“Huh?” she looked up at me as if she had been deep in thought. “No, no. I think it’s great.”

“Really? Because there’s nothing in your tone that says great.”

She sighed loudly and I knew her true feelings were about to pour out. “I just don’t want Jude to scare you away. He has this way about him. Girls end up obsessing and then they get heartbroken. And it kind of seems—”

“I’m just posing for his painting, Finley. Besides, I’ve never obsessed about a guy in my life. He’d have to be pretty damn spectacular to get that kind of commitment out of me. It’ll be fine. Plus, your brother still treats me like I’m an annoying pest who has landed here to upset his life.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “Attention from Jude, no matter which kind, is a rarity.”

“Look, if you don’t want me to pose for him, I won’t. But I promise I won’t be scared off.”

My little pep talk seemed to have done the trick. The worry disappeared from her face.

“No, go ahead and do it. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She hugged me as if we were parting ways for years instead of hours. She walked out of the kitchen and Some Pig followed. I took a deep breath and headed out to the pool house. My confident speech had helped convince Finley that I could keep my head. Now I just needed it to work on me.

Chapter 12

I walked between the two dogs who sat like stone lions outside the pool house. The interior had been decorated as nicely as the main house. Music rolled quietly through the room. One side of the room had a sitting area, large screen television, and wet bar. The other side had been transformed into an artist’s studio, complete with canvas drop cloths, racks of painter’s supplies, and a collection of finished and unfinished paintings. The muddy, oily smell of paints filled the air.

Jude balanced on a stool and looked around his easel. “I’m just sharpening my pencils.”

I walked over to a collection of canvasses. There were several landscapes but most were paintings of people, both men and women. There was emotion in the faces that only a true artist could capture. They were nothing short of amazing. “You are really talented.”

“You think? Sometimes I question it. A lot of people can draw and paint.”

“True, but not many can capture the rawness of someone’s inner soul like you’ve done in these paintings.” I pulled out a canvas of a particularly pretty girl who was wearing a sheer as gossamer dress and staring out a window. “Like this girl, you can tell she’s had some crap happen in her life that has scarred her forever. You can see it in her eyes. Either that or she’s an exceptionally good model.”

He walked over and looked at the painting I held. “That’s Ginger. And you’re right. She’s had a shitty life.”

Jude looked up at my face. “Some people are easy to read. I can see every facet of their emotion in their expression, but you’re not like that.”

I smiled and replaced the painting into the pile. “Trust me, I’m not that complicated.”

“No? I guess we’ll find out. Follow me.”

We entered a small closet that was packed full with clothing and period costumes. He yanked out a peasant style dress and held it in front of me then shoved it back onto the rack. He did the same with several silky, sheer dresses but then grunted and returned them to the rack.

He looked me up and down. “The ripped jeans will work, but you need a different shirt.

I glanced down at my faded jeans that had both knees ripped out and a tear across the thigh. “I’m wearing these? I was kind of looking forward to one of these soft dresses.” I rubbed my hand along the row of dresses.

“They don’t suit you.” He walked to the end of the rack, pulled out a package, and ripped it open.

I stared down at it in utter disappointment. “But that is a man’s undershirt. That’s what I’m suited for, the prestigious wife-beater shirt?”

He looked up at me. “Who’s the artist here? You or me?”

“You, I guess, but I’m beginning to question your artistic intuition some.”

He handed me the shirt. “Bathroom is down that hallway.” He pointed around the corner.

I grabbed the shirt and plodded away.

“And lose the bra,” he called.

“Beginning to regret this whole thing,” I yelled back to him. The tank top covered enough that I didn’t feel too self conscious without a bra, but I still instinctually walked out with my arms crossed over my breasts.

Jude was sitting on his stool and looked up from his paints as I stepped around the corner. He laughed.

“Well, that makes me feel better,” I said angrily.

“Sorry. You look fine. It’s just that yesterday you laid out by the pool in a suit that rivaled two bandages, and today you’re shy about wearing a man’s undershirt.”

“And now I feel slutty for wearing the suit. This little endeavor is doing nothing for my self-confidence.”

“Nothing wrong with a little sluttiness,” he quipped.

“That’s it. I’m done.” I turned and headed back down the hall. I hadn’t even heard him move, but suddenly, he had hold of my arm.

“I’m just teasing you, Eden.” He pushed my hair back from my face, and the touch of his calloused fingertips lingered on my skin long after he’d dropped his hand. “You’re not slutty.” He stared at my face a long time. “You’re incredible,” he said quietly. And then in the dark, dimly lit hallway, his face leaned closer to mine and I thought a kiss would follow. But he held himself back. Or it was entirely possible that I’d just imagined the kiss because I truly wanted it. Then it dawned on me that the steely reserve I’d worked so hard to convince Finley of this morning was completely gone. My resolve to not fall for this guy was fading quickly.

He took my hand and led me to a stool he had placed ten feet away from his canvas. He patted the seat, and I climbed up on it. His fingers held my ankles longer than necessary as he slid the sandals off my feet. Then as if he’d already had the pose completely mapped out in his mind, he placed each foot on the bottom rung of the stool so that my thighs were apart and my bare knees peeked through the worn out jeans. He leaned back and looked at me as if he was assessing a piece of marble for a sculpture.

Then without warning, he grabbed the end of the undershirt and tugged it down so that my cleavage and the sides of my breasts were bared. Startled, I pulled back and his fingers lost their grasp. The shirt bounced back up.

He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “It’s still less skin than that bikini.”

“Fine,” I said, “but I may never forgive Finley for getting me that suit.”

He reached forward again and tugged on the shirt. The cool air of the room brushed my exposed skin as he took my hand. “Now hold it there and lean forward some.”

He leaned back again.

“Aren’t you supposed to squint past your thumb or something?”

He smiled but didn’t take his eyes off me. “I never have figured out why artists do that.”

His fingers took hold of my chin, and I sucked in a small breath. The near kiss or imagined near kiss in the hall had left me feeling unbalanced and vulnerable, and now I seemed to have little control over ridiculousness.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Uh huh.” I swallowed back a sudden case of nerves, and even after the last silly overreaction to his touch, I was completely unready for his next move.

His rough thumb reached up and dragged down lightly over my bottom lip. “Make sure to keep that pouty look you’re so good at.” His gaze never left my mouth as he spoke.

“I’m not pouty—”

He put up his hand. “Don’t move, don’t talk. This is perfect.” He strolled back to the sound system and glanced back at me. “I hope you don’t mind, I do my best work listening to Pearl Jam.” He turned up the music and then sat on his stool. For a few minutes, he fished around in his pencils and eventually chose one.

Then he lifted his green gaze for the first time since he’d sat at his canvas. His mouth opened slightly almost as if he was shocked to find me sitting there. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed hard once and then began sketching strokes across the canvas. He glanced my way and then returned his attention to the drawing. Several times he shook his head as if frustrated with the lines he’d drawn.

Fifteen minutes in, I discovered that sitting in the same position for an extended time was more taxing than I would have thought. A cool breeze danced through an open window and across the room, moving a long strand of hair across my face. “What do I do?” I asked.

“Don’t move yet. I’m just finishing with your arms.”

“But it tickles.” I moved my nose up and down but the hair stayed put.

He placed down his pencil and walked across the floor toward me. The crackling energy I’d felt between us the night before when he’d stood over my bed returned now and grew with hot intensity as the space between us disappeared. I was not the only one noticing the sudden charge in the atmosphere between us. He stopped directly in front of me, and even with loud music bouncing off the walls, I could hear the unnaturally fast rhythm of his breathing.

He hesitated a moment and then his hand came up slowly and brushed the hair off my face. His fingertips had only grazed my cheek, but I felt the sensation of his touch through my entire body. He looked back at me as if he’d smoothed his hands over every inch of my skin. The air between us heated and what had started out as a casual session between an artist and his subject had somehow erupted into something completely different.

Without a word, and leaving a stream of heated tension in his wake, Jude returned to his stool and sat. He picked up his pencil again and seemed reluctant to move his gaze from his canvas to his model. After a long pause, he looked at me with such raw, urgent emotion, I lost my balance and my foot fell from the stool.

“Sorry.” I quickly tried to reposition myself on the stool.

“That’s all right. Take a break.” He walked over to the wet bar, lit a cigarette, and reached below the bar to pull out a bottle of liquor. He poured himself a shot and threw it back. Then he relaxed against the counter and smoked his cigarette in sullen silence.

I got up and walked around to stretch. Jude was a hard person to read, and I had absolutely no idea what going through his mind. But I knew what was going through mine. Finley had warned me and I had waved it off as impossible. What a naive, self-confident fool I was.

Jude tossed his cigarette in the sink and returned to his canvas. I returned to my stool and attempted to recreate the same position and expression.

“Lean forward more.” His tone was colder than before. “That’s it. Now pull the hem of the shirt down lower.”

I exposed more skin.

He said nothing at first. “Lift your chin a little.”

I followed his directions.

He turned back to his canvas and then turned his face to me.

“Fuck it,” he growled and threw the pencil across the room. “Never mind. This isn’t going to work.” The stool scraped the floor as he stood abruptly, pulled out another cigarette, and slammed out the door of the pool house.

I sat there momentarily stunned and determined to fight back the tears of hurt that burned my eyes. The stool nearly fell over as I jumped off and raced to the bathroom to change. My hands shook as I changed quickly and took steadying breaths to keep from crying. I threw open the door and slammed directly into Jude.

“I’m sorry, Eden.”

“Whatever. I told you I’d be a boring model.” I tried to slip past him but his arm blocked me.

“That’s not the reason and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything except that this was a mistake.” His arm was like steel as I pushed against it.

He took hold of my waist and pressed me against the wall. “I was fooling myself. I thought I could handle it, but you looked so goddamned beautiful—”

The stress of the morning had taken its toll. Tears broke through. “Please, Jude, just let me go.”

Slowly, he backed away and held his hands up in surrender. I ran for the door. I swiped clumsily at my tears and then fanned my face to dry them. I definitely didn’t want Finley to know I’d been crying, so I went straight to my room and shut the door behind me. She would still be busy with the tattoo artist. I had a reprieve from human contact for a few minutes, and I took advantage of it.

I washed my face and plunked down on my bed feeling suddenly homesick. I wondered what my family was up to and if they’d arrived safely up north. Our family van was not really the long distance type of vehicle. I wondered if we’d be moving up north if dad got the job. And I wondered how long I’d last in this totally unconventional and somewhat turmoil filled summer job. Jude had definitely added a layer to the position that I was not prepared for.