Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (31 page)

I lean against the wall and try closing my eyes once more. I can make out the light from behind my lids, and I say a quick prayer now, reminding myself that
I’m okay. I’m not alone. I don’t need to be afraid.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually my heartrate evens out. While I’m feeling calmer now, my body still feels like it could use a cool down. I walk over to Jude’s large fridge and open the freezer door, hoping a gust of freezing cold air will chill me out. When I look inside, my rapidly rising goose bumps are the last thing on my mind. Instead, my focus is glued to the unbelievable amount of ice cream in front of me.

There are more than a dozen pints lining the top two shelves, organized by brand and flavor. He’s got vanilla, espresso, coffee, chocolate peanut butter, butter pecan, and pistachio; he’s got chocolate chip cookie dough, red velvet, cookies and cream, java chip, oatmeal cookie, and mint; and, of course, there’s a pint of gelato. I can’t stop staring and my mind won’t stop racing. Nothing I know about Jude could explain
this
.

When I feel two hands grip my waist, all thoughts of ice cream shatter into a billion little pieces and I scream, spinning around with fists flying.

“Teddy! It’s me—it’s just me,” Judah insists, grabbing my arms and gently but forcefully pinning them to my sides.

I look up into his eyes—his stunning grey eyes, now more alert than I’ve ever seen them—and I sigh in resignation, sagging in his grasp as I lean back against his refrigerator.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, sounding more concerned than angry.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, no longer able to look into his eyes. I attacked the man in his own kitchen. This is definitely not one of my finer moments.

I gasp when I’m suddenly being lifted in the air. Jude whirls me around and then sits me down on top of his kitchen island, the only thing between my panty-covered ass and his counter being the bottom of his t-shirt. I don’t have time to dwell on it, though. He grips the back of my neck and angles my head so that I have no place else to look except into his eyes.

“You were scared. What the fuck was that? And why are you out of bed? It’s two in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you. I’m not—I’m not afraid of you. I wasn’t thinking it was—I…I had a nightmare,” I admit. “I didn’t want to be in the dark, so I came up here. I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry if I did.”

He studies me for a moment. As his eyes dance around my face, mine dance around his. He looks dangerously tempting—his hair a mess from sleep, his jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble I’m sure will be gone in a few hours. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what he would look like with a beard. Then he speaks, snapping me out of my thoughts as his free hand grazes up my right thigh—over my dreamcatcher.

“I thought you said you
used
to have bad dreams?”

“It doesn’t happen a lot. It’s been a while since I’ve last had one.”

“And what happens? When you’re asleep, what do you see?”

I drag in a deep breath, furrowing my brow before I shake my head and let out a sigh. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m okay. Really. I’m sorry for hitting you.”

“I’ll live,” he mutters, still eyeing me suspiciously. “Are you going to be able to go back to sleep? Or are we up for the rest of the night?”

A small smile crosses my face at his mention of
we
. His gentleman tendencies never cease to amaze me.

“More sleep is definitely desired,” I assure him. “I just needed a few minutes.”

“And some ice cream?”

I sit up straighter, sucking in a breath before I say, “Oh, my gosh—you have a
ton
of ice cream! How does a guy like you have a ton of ice cream?”

He knits his eyebrows together before he lets me go, turning away from me. “A guy like me?” he asks. “What kind of guy is that?”

I watch as he opens the freezer and pulls out two pints of ice cream. He then reaches for his silverware drawer, pulling out two spoons. When he turns to face me again, he holds up each pint. One espresso. One cookies and cream. I point at the espresso and he hands it to me, along with the spoon, before leaning up against the counter beside me. He pops the lid off and digs in, and I follow his lead.

“Well?” he asks, reminding me that I’ve yet to answer him.

I look down at the ice cream in my hand before my eyes peruse his body, his chest bare and his shorts resting low around his hips. A tired, amused expression is written all over his face when my eyes finally meet his. My cheeks warm and I cough out a little laugh before digging for my first bite.

“Um, you just don’t look like someone who has an ice cream obsession.”

“It’s my weakness. Don’t tell anyone.”

I smile around my spoon, letting my bite melt over my tongue as I promise, “Your secret is safe with me.”

He only eats about four big bites before he puts the lid back on and discards his spoon in the sink. As he starts to return the partially eaten pint to its resting place, I cover mine as well. “Don’t stop on my account. I can afford to indulge in my weakness only if I practice moderation. If I don’t stop now, I’ll eat the whole damn thing. But go ahead. Eat as much as you want.”

“It’s okay. I should stop,” I say, handing it to him. “I’ll never get back to sleep if I eat anymore.” He nods, taking it away from me and putting it in the freezer before setting my spoon in the sink. I slide down off of the counter and he grabs my hand before leading me out of the kitchen, hitting the lights as we go.

Neither of us speaks a word as we climb back into bed. Earlier, when we fell asleep the first time, we were next to each other, but he wasn’t touching me. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. We’d been talking and he’d been teasing me about my lack of pool skills until we both drifted off. Now, as he stretches out beside me, I get the distinct impression that he’s not a big fan of cuddling. However, just now, the thought of his strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me as I attempt to ward off tonight’s demons, it’s too distracting to ignore.

“
Judah?
” I whisper.

“Yes, Teddy?”

I chicken out for a second, wondering if he’ll tell me
no
. Then I realize, I’ll never know if I don’t ask.

“Will you hold me?”

It’s too dark for me to see, but I can feel his eyes on me as my question is met with silence. Then I feel the bed shift before his hand rests on my side.

“Turn over,” he instructs. I do as he says, turning my back to him, and he pulls me against his chest, draping his arm over me. He’s so warm, sturdy, and heavy around me.

I love it.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice hardly above a whisper as my eyes droop closed.

T
uesday morning, after my alarm pulls me from sleep, I prop myself up on my elbows and look to the empty space beside me. It’s been two nights since Teddy slept over. Two nights since she asked me to hold her. Two nights, and it’s still the first thing I think about when I wake.

I remember finding her in the kitchen, and the look in her eyes when I had frightened her. She was wild when she turned around, pummeling me with her small fists, and I’m still haunted by my curiosity. I want to know what she was so afraid of. I want to know what nightmare still plagues her minutes after she wakes. The fact that she wouldn’t tell me when I asked only speaks of how bad it really is.

I shake my head at myself as I climb out of bed, not sure why I care so much. Aside from the fact that
that
version of wild isn’t what I have been desperately waiting for, I can’t explain why I’m still holding on to that night. Not wishing to think on it any longer, I set about my morning routine. After a workout, a shower, a shave, and cup of coffee with a quick breakfast, I’m out the door and headed to work.

I’ve got a lot on my plate today, the most important of which is a client meeting with Logan later this morning. Rick will also be joining us as we meet up with the head of the law firm we’ll be working with for the next couple months. They’ve just purchased a new office space in the town of Windsor, not too far from here, and they want a total renovation. The corporate building they will soon move into isn’t older than a year, but the growing company bought out three floors. They want them conjoined in such a way that makes it feel more like one, big, cohesive office. Rick and I have already discussed some ideas, and I’m confident in his abilities as our resident architect to wow our client today.

The first couple hours in the office seem to fly by as I meet with different associates to check on the progress of a couple ongoing projects, or projects we’re just getting ready to wrap up. When Logan pops her head into my office and tells me she’s ready to go when I am, I’m surprised to see that it’s already time for our appointment. She tells me that Rick will be meeting us there, as he is coming from another off-site location, and then I escort her to my car.

On our drive down, she chats mostly about work. She’s in the middle of the Mason Diner remodel, and from the sounds of it, it’s coming along nicely. I plan on peeking in on her progress later in the week. As soon as we arrive at our destination, we both shift our focus to the project at hand.

The meeting lasts for about an hour. I let Rick and Logan take the lead, jumping in when I’ve noticed something they have forgotten. Our client seems both anxious to get things moving and confident in our ability to deliver the quality of work that he’s after. We part ways with a handshake and a promise to be in touch in the next couple of days with final plans before we officially begin.

Just as I’m opening the passenger side door of the Porsche for Logan, I feel my phone alert me to a text from inside of my pocket. After she’s in the car, I close the door and walk around to the driver’s side, reaching for my mobile as I go. I see that I have a text from Teddy and a small smile pulls at my lips. I sink into my seat just as I open the message.

Teddy:
Look what I bought today…

Her second message comes through while my phone is still in my hand. It’s a picture of her. She’s holding a paperback copy of
Fight Club
in front of her face, so all I can see are her big, round, light brown eyes. Even with her mouth covered, I can tell that she’s smiling.

Fuck, I want that smile.

“Whoa—what was that?” asks Logan, pulling me from my thoughts.

I black-out the screen of my phone before dropping it into the empty cup holder in the center console and start the engine. “What are you talking about?” I ask, pulling my seatbelt over my chest.

“That
face!
Who just sent you a text?”

I turn to look at her, furrowing my brow in confusion. “What face?”

She laughs, folding her arms across her chest as she stares at me. “Don’t play innocent with me. It was a woman. No man makes a face like that unless he’s texting a woman.”

“What
face?
” I repeat.

“You like her. Who is she? Oh, my god! This is amazing.”

“Logan—
what
are you talking about?” I ask, growing frustrated with her antics.

“I’m talking about the way you smiled when you read that text. I’ve
never
seen you smile like that before. It was almost…”

“Almost what?”

She grins before she responds. “Sweet.”

I shake my head once before I shift into reverse and back out of the parking spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She laughs in reply, and I ignore her. Then my phone alerts me to another text. Before I can reach for it, Logan swipes it from out of the cup holder.

“Hmm,” she hums. “Teddy. Who’s…Wait—
Teddy?
From Mountain Time Art Gallery?”

“Give me that,” I mutter, holding out my hand. I don’t bother looking at her, my attention directed on the road ahead of me. She does as I request, but that doesn’t stop her from asking questions.

“We went there, like, a month ago. Are you
seeing
her? I thought you offended her.”

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”

“Oh, come on. We’re friends.”

“You keep telling me that,” I deadpan, sliding my phone into my pocket.