Before I can even think about replying, there’s a knock at my front door.
Jude: You might want to answer that. Your dinner has arrived.
I’d like to say I don’t rush to answer it, but that would be a lie.
The minute I look through the peephole and see Jude Cooper standing outside my house, I suck in a breath, close my eyes, smooth my hands over my hair and quickly check my ‘not expecting visitors’ clothes before gripping the handle.
Then, with my heart hammering against my ribs and my body feeling like I’ve stuck my hand in a power socket—so much for being relaxed—I swing the door open.
“Uh… heeey,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.Why is he here? How is he here?
“Hi,” he replies, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
Then my sass kicks in, nerves, butterflies, swooning be damned. “Exactlyhowlong have you been plannin’ on turnin’ up on my doorstep, hubby?”
“Well, I drove straight through from home after leaving your brothers this morning. Then I got here and spent a good while tryin’ to decide how to spring this on you. Then I figured food is supposedly a good icebreaker like on first dates and all, so when you mentioned dinner, I jumped on it.” Is it wrong to find Jude’s rambling cute? “Then I had to track down the restaurant with the best Chicken Pad Thai, find my way back to your street, and add on the last ten minutes I’ve just spent sittin’ in my truck tryin’ to find the courage to walk up and knock on your door.”
A giggle erupts out of me. His eyes widen before they melt right in front of my eyes and he smiles.Ice officially broken, hubby.
“With all of that now out there,” he says, shivering. “Do you think you might invite me in soon so that you don’t have to callmybrothers to tell them I froze to death on your doorstep?”
His wry smirk dazes me for a second before I step aside and wave him through. “Can’t have that now. I don’t think your brothers would appreciate a Wilson bein’ the cause of your demise.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s been a possibility, right?” he laughs as he walks past me, coming to a stop in the hallway. I don’t miss the chance to take a peek at the back of him as he walks by me, the subtle smell of pine and patchouli hitting my nose. Something about his presence—or maybe it’s just him in general—has my racing pulse slowing down.Just like when I first met him.
I close the door before turning around. Any words I thought I might say get stuck on my tongue the moment our eyes meet again as we end up standing there just staring at one another.He’s really here.
He looks more handsome than I remember. His dark brown hair has gotten a little longer since I saw him last, but the back and sides are still tidy and clean cut. He’s wearing a heavy winterjacket over the top of what looks like a red and black plaid shirt with a black thermal peeking out from underneath. Finishing off his outfit is a pair of black denim jeans and his no-doubt, ever-present work boots.
I snap out of my daze as my manners kick in. “Can I take your coat?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Looking just as distracted as I feel, he juggles the takeout bag in his hand as he strips off his top layer and hands it to me.
The divine smell of the Thai takeout has my mouth watering, something I must not hide well because he chuckles and nods toward the kitchen at the end of the hall. “How ‘bout we dish this up and then I can tell you why I’m here?”
“So, thereisa reason?” I rush out as I stop in front of him. “Has somethin’ happened back home? Is everyone OK?”
His features soften as he moves to my side and puts his hand on the small of my back—succeeding in scrambling my brain—before pressing gently to lead me toward the kitchen. “Everythin’ and everyone is fine. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
My brain starts to glitch and I put it down to too many surprises happening close together. At least I have the patience to wait until we reach our destination before launching into the barrage of questions that burst out of me.
Stepping away, I whirl around. “OK. Why didn’t someone tell me you were comin’? You got my address from my brothers, right? In fact, why didn’tyoutell me you were drivin’ here instead of bein’ quiet all day and makin’ meworry?”
Jude’s expression goes from stunned, to cautious, to a gentle smile that makes his eyes look like molten chocolate. “I promise to explain everythin’, but can we eat first? That restaurant smelled so good, and then I had to drive here with it, and I’ve been on the road all day eatin’ gas station snacks. Take pity on me?” The man even bats his lashes at me. How can I refuse? “Ipromise, it’s not bad. I…” He shakes his head before looking up at the cabinets. “Where can I find plates?”
I point to the far corner and watch as Jude—the man I barely knew six weeks ago—moves about my house like he belongs here.
“Cutlery?” he asks.
“Top drawer.”
He finds what he’s looking for and gets to work splitting up my favorite guilty pleasure takeout.
For a moment, I stop thinking. Or maybe I disengage my brain to mouth filter. “Are you butterin’ me up for somethin’? Is that what this is about?”
Jude chuckles. “You’re very suspicious tonight,” he says, smiling at me like he thinks I’m adorable.
“Should we eat at the table?” he asks, quirking his brow and looking far too good doing it.