Chapter 9
9
[Genie]
“ N ow what?” I mutter to the emptiness after the soft click of the entrance to Judd’s garage announces he’s left the building.
I remember saying to Judd I’m better at making messes than cleaning them up and I’ve certainly made a mess of things now.
I’m wearing his mother’s ring.
I’m hiding from my mother in his home.
And I’ve agreed to dating him, pretending we’re engaged for ten days.
What the eff-ity are you doing, Genie?
“Marching to the beat of my own drum,” I say to the empty room. “And now I’m talking to myself.”
I clamp my lips shut, realizing I’m still doing it. As I slip off the highbacked stool, I finally kick off the shoes that match this ridiculous costume of a dress I wore today.
“How did I get myself into that mess?” I mutter once more to the cavernous space deciding what difference does it make if I talk to myself. The point is no one is here to hear me.
How did I get into this dress and how will I get out of it? Then I’m hit with the reality that I don’t have a change of clothes. I don’t even have my phone.
I should call my mom. Just fess up to the truth. Judd isn’t mine. But my thumb tucks into my palm and rolls the gold band from the underside, righting it so the purple gemstone stands proudly on my finger.
It really is pretty.
Quickly, I glance away from the ring and decide I should eat. That whiskey I slammed earlier has gone to my head and a woman can’t survive on cinnamon rolls alone.
Circling the large island, I open Judd’s industrial-looking, double-door fridge to find it stocked full of fresh vegetables and fruits, plus an array of electrolyte drinks and protein juices. The selections are too healthy, and I’d need to be creative to compile a meal.
My day has been complicated enough.
“Wine it is, then.” I reach across the counter for my glass, then pick up Judd’s and pour his into mine. Holding the very full stemless glass to my chest, I wander the great room, taking it all in a second time.
The soft looking couches. The over-sized fireplace. The view of the lake.
The late-afternoon-slash-early-evening remains light a little longer as the season creeps toward summer, roughly halfway between the official start of spring and the end. The trees surrounding the lake are mostly awake, the green appears dusty in the fading light of another day.
I’m not certain how long I stand there, staring out at the silvery ripples on the distance lake but I finish my double glass of wine.
Wandering toward the dining room, I easily find the bar Judd referenced and the bottle of wine he opened.
“Engagement party for one?” I snark, lifting the bottle and setting down my glass.
I’m not really engaged. I’ve simply agreed to pretend I am.
When I’d normally be the first to demand honesty in a relationship, I’ll be living a lie for the next ten days. And I don’t feel as guilty as I should.
Judd Sylver is a mystery to me, and one I’d like to solve.
The fights. The mansion in the woods. The reserve still beneath the surface and yet, he seemed open enough.
He did save me from my mother. Rescued me from Heather. Brought me to his lair. I’m making it sound more sinister than it is. He did offer to take me back to my mom’s, and I have my reasons for not wanting to rush.
Janet Hurley is a complicated woman. One I’ve learned to navigate with great exhaustion at times. I love my mother, but I don’t always like her. And that in and of itself makes me feel guilty as well.
I miss my dad. He understood me. He appreciated me. And for the next ten days, Judd could be a good distraction from bad memories.
Not that Judd and I will be doing anything physical. Getting lost in one another’s bodies. We’ll just be . . . dating.
I internally groan. I’m a professional dater. Within minutes, I can tell how things will, or rather won’t, go and it’s all been daunting the past few years.
Still, I’m firmly against marriage which means I must firmly be in favor of singlehood. Unfortunately, I’m not embracing being alone as well as I once did.
“You’ll keep me company tonight, though, won’t you?” I say to the bottle of red and take a sip directly from it.
I could have gone with Judd. Maybe I should have gone with him. Maybe it would crack the code of sorrow around him. But I can’t witness someone pummeling Judd. Or Judd punching someone back.
I understand boxing is a sport, but the principle of it is where I’m stuck.
Wandering back into the great room, a chill ripples over my bare arms, and I pause near the couch with Judd’s suit jacket draped over the back. Hesitantly, I run my fingertips along the lapel as Judd had neatly folded the jacket so the back panels tuck beneath the sides. Next, I pinch the outer edge of the sleeve and skim my fingers along the silky material.
Closing my eyes, I envision my fingers running down the length of Judd’s arms. His skin warm beneath my touch. The ink vibrant and telling a story. What exactly is that unicorn beneath faded lines?
I set the wine bottle on the floor, and I pick up the jacket, holding it to my nose. Winter mint and sunshine lingers at the collar. I’d caught the scent as I pressed into his back while seated on his bike, but then the freshness of spring and the fragrance of pine mingled into our ride.
Holding up the jacket, the color reminiscent of Judd’s eyes, I wrap the material around me and tug at the opposite sides, tucking myself inside the silk lining and the hint of heat from Judd wearing this earlier.
If I were bolder, I’d remove my dress and only wear the jacket.
Instead, I pick up the wine bottle and pad on bare feet over the hardwood floor in the direction of the garage. This wing of the house has several doors and it’s time to explore.
My travels are short when I quickly come upon two closed pocket doors. Pressing them open, I pause on the pleasing whoosh they make, then I stare, wide eyed, mouth agape into the room.
Cue a Beauty and the Beast montage.
With my mouth still open, I enter the darkish room with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Suddenly, I’m Belle standing in the gifted library. This one is even complete with a sliding ladder.
“Holy books, Batman,” I whisper, twirling in a slow circle, trying to take it all in while not able to grasp everything at once. An etched glass window with X-patterned mullions. Rich, mahogany shelves. The extensive number of books. A deep-purple velvet chaise lounge in the middle of the room. If women could have wet dreams, I’m experiencing one.
Stepping closer to the bookshelves, I scan the eclectic mix of titles. A combination of old and new. A blend of gilded gold on leather spines and worn-creased bindings on modern paperbacks. Judd has everything from atlases to romance novels, and I tug a familiar book off the shelf.
Taking the treasured novel and my wine bottle to the lounger, I lean back against the raised arm panel, feeling like royalty. And an imposter.
Glancing down at the pretty ring on my finger, I wonder what the story is behind this piece of jewelry. Despite the significance of it being his mother’s, I sense there is more to the story. Why has Judd been wearing it since he was eighteen? The age feels significant, but my memory wavers. I can’t recall if he wore a chain during the time I knew him.
Maybe it’s simply a keepsake of his mom.
I wish I had something that belonged to my dad.
After his passing, my mother quickly cleared out his belongings. Then it was on to husband number two. Denny, then Henry, and finally Lester.
I tip back my head and consider again how I’m in Judd’s home and compare it to my mother’s place.
The house I grew up in changed with each of my mom’s marriages. Like a new husband warranted an entire renovation to the place.
There was Denny and the industrial kitchen. Henry and a new den with the addition of a game room. And finally, Lester and bedroom makeovers.
The only room that remained untouched was mine, which stands exactly as it looked when I was a child and last lived with my mom. The same ruffly curtains and childish furniture. A collection of dolls, that come to think of it, are not mine, and a pile of stuffed animals. The room is more museum than sleeping quarters, and I did not want to sleep in it.
I wonder if Judd would let me stay here. We are engaged . I laugh without humor. I’m never getting married. I’d be shit at it, as I’d told Judd. It’s not that I’d be disloyal or lack commitment, it’s that I don’t trust in the institution. Look how easily my mother has divorced and remarried? Nothing lasts forever.
I lift my head and reach for the bottle of wine I’d set on the floor. Taking another glance around the room, I speak to it.
“Have I entered Bridgerton ?” The space is reminiscent of Regency England. A writing desk stands in the corner. A slim wooden chair behind it. Plus, this chaise lounge despite its contemporary flair. Then, I recall the book in my hand, and I’m reminded I’m very much in the modern era.
“I bet you’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Judd Sylver?”
I open the familiar book by one of my favorite authors, but don’t get very far before my lids droop. The excitement and confusion of the day catches up to me. The whiskey and wine on only a cinnamon roll-filled belly might also have something to do with my sudden lethargy.
As I tip my head to the side, supported by the raised corner, I tell myself just for a few minutes .
Or maybe I speak to the empty room. It’s becoming a habit.
Eventually, something brushes my cheek, and I startle awake. The room is dark. The window is illuminated by an exterior light highlighting the X-pattern. Clutching the book to my chest, I shift and find Judd sitting in the wooden desk chair, now placed beside the chaise lounge.
“You’re back.”
Judd retracts his hand. It’s difficult to fully see him in the dim light.
His chuckle is quiet, like he’s afraid to break the silence. “I always thought when I finally brought a woman here, she’d be sleeping in my bed, not the library.”
I stare at Judd a second before I shift on the chaise. The kink in my neck is a reminder I’d fallen asleep in this quiet, dark space in an awkward position.
Has he never brought Heather here? I don’t ask. He said he didn’t want to talk about her anymore, and I really don’t either.
“I had my brothers pick up your car. It’s parked in the drive. They also retrieved your suitcase and other belongings from your mom’s place. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty.”
I chuckle. “Which brothers?” If I recall, the Sylvers are plentiful.
“Well.” Judd stutters and clears his throat. “My brother Sebastian didn’t always do things legally when he was younger. He owns the Curmudgeon Bakery. You might have seen him earlier.”
During the breakup scene. When the man behind the counter and I caught eyes a moment, both feeling trapped by the tension coming from the front corner of said bakery.
“And then Knox can be quite the charmer. He’s younger than me by two years but was a year ahead of you in school. He’s a firefighter and works at Sylver Seed & Soil like me.”
I remember Knox. He dated a girl from my grade named Halle Reynolds at the time.
Judd pauses again. “But I think the real smokescreen in retrieving your things might have been Ford. Who doesn’t want a professional sports star and hometown hero to show up at a local garden party?”
My mother would have absolutely been starstruck by the famous baseball player.
Judd clears his throat again. “That might have been when the not-quite-legal activities took place. Sebastian collected your things.”
I laugh at the thought of three grown men distracting my mother and guests to steal my belongings out of her home.
“What did you tell them about me?” How did he convince his brothers to gather my things?
“I said I had a friend in need of assistance.”
His silence after his simple explanation speaks volumes. He didn’t tell them more. Perhaps they didn’t ask.
“Anyway, I set you up in the guest room.” Despite the low light in the room, Judd looks wary a moment and he bows his head, fiddling with something in his hand. “And I have this for you.”
He holds up the item which I quickly see is a folded piece of paper between his forefinger and the middle one. Cautiously, I take it from him, but I don’t open it.
I hardly move. The way Judd is looking at me, I’m trapped in the corner of this chaise lounge. Or maybe it’s that I feel safer than I’ve ever felt. The energy around us crackles again and I lick my lips, watching him watch my mouth. I clutch the book in hand, which presses on his jacket which I’m still wearing, and each item feels like a layer I want Judd to unwrap and set me free.
I blink against the thought.
I’m not caged. I’m single and at liberty to do as I please. Which means I have the free will to leave . . . or stay.
“Thank you,” I whisper, finding my voice rough and low, and also afraid to crack this new silent tension surrounding us. One that feels like it could snap at any second, and yet I don’t want it to break.
I don’t want to want Judd Sylver.
My heart cannot take the possibility he might reject me again.
Even with this kindness. Even with this act. I remind myself Judd has wrecked me in the past.
“Sleep on it,” Judd whispers eventually, his voice deep like his throat is clogged. “And sleep well.”
“You too,” I whisper, still struggling as I watch him stand. His full height could feel imposing and yet I suddenly want nothing more than Judd to climb up on this chaise and cover me. Blanket me in his warmth instead of his suit jacket. Remove this awful dress and lay me bare on the velvety seat.
And those thoughts should not be filling my head.
Judd nods once, slips his hands into his pockets, and turns to walk away, while I glance down at the book in my arms and slip the folded paper he handed me into the pages, like a bookmark.
Then I curse the book for the fantasy it placed in my mind.
The one where Judd would not have left but picked me up like his future-bride-to-be and carried me to his room.
Silly romance novels.
I swing my legs over the side of the chaise and stand, escorting myself to the assigned guest room.
In the morning, I better appreciate this room. The four-poster bed is made of dark mahogany but delicately carved and antique-looking. Across the room is a low dresser that appears to match the bed set and beside it is an overstuffed bedroom chair and ottoman with violets on the fabric. The room is painted light purple, corresponding with the lightest shade of violet on the chair. The space is pretty, feminine and sweet, and for half a minute, I wonder if it was intended for someone else.
Not wishing to think about Heather, I sit upright and toss off the thick white duvet. Last night, I hadn’t bothered to unpack my suitcase or wrestle into pajamas. Instead, I simply stripped out of the custard-colored creation, shedding it like I’d scrape the inside of anything holding such a filling, and left the dress in a heap on the floor. I climbed into this bed, which might be the most luxurious mattress I’ve ever slept on, and fell into a restful sleep.
In only my underwear, I turn toward the nightstand where a small violet plant sits in a milk-glass pot. Beside it is the paperback from last night and the note peeking above the edge, reminding me I’d never read it.
I easily pull the sheet free and unfold it.
Will you date me for ten days? Check yes or no.
I giggle. Like a schoolgirl receiving a note from her secret crush, passed across the desks in the back of a classroom. Covering my mouth, as if to contain the childlike sound, I snort next.
Oh my gosh . Judd Sylver actually wrote me a note similar in fashion to the ones I once wrote him. And . . . I do a double take at the paper.
The four-by-six sheet has light blue lines like traditionally lined notebooks, but it’s the unicorn beneath the lines that catches my eyes. The one with a pastel swirl of color on its unique horn and the likeness of a white stallion that takes my breath away.
The paper is exactly the same as the one I once used to ask Judd if he’d be my friend on National Make a New Friend Day.
And it’s the exact same unicorn with faded lines over it that is inked on Judd’s bicep.
Suddenly, I’m leaping from bed, rustling through my suitcase and rushing into the bathroom to quickly take care of business. Then I’m marching into Judd’s great room prepared to demand answers when I’m stopped in my tracks.
Judd stands in his kitchen with his back to the hallway I exit. He’s wearing a black wife- pleaser tank and low-slung gray sweats that accentuate the firmness of his ass. His legs look long but thick in the loose pants. His upper body a sculpture of perfection. And those brightly colored arms remind me why I stomped out of my room.
As I near the island, Judd spins and flinches. “Jesus.”
“No. Genie.” I choke on my own joke. “Did you forget I was here?”
But then I remember why I’m standing here. The thoughts colliding in my head. Why? What? How? I don’t know if I’m irritated or aroused, and I hate that I can’t distinguish between the two. Maybe I’m both.
“Explain.” I hold up the note and rustle the paper. Then I point forcefully at his upper arm. “And explain.”
“Good morning, Genie. How did you sleep?” Judd’s mouth turns up on one side. A devilish smirk if I’ve ever seen one, and yet, I’m not certain I’ve ever seen that look on anyone. Nor reacted to the curve of someone’s lips the way I am right now.
“Judd,” I moan. “Do not good morning me.” I wave the paper in my hands again.
“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”
“That bed was heaven.” I give him my own smirk and cross my arms, arching a brow. Your turn .
Judd ducks his head and smiles a little wider. Just a sliver. Then his mouth twists, and he looks back at me. His cheeks turn a vibrant shade of pink and he tilts his face away from me. His lips move. The sound incoherent.
“What?” I chuckle, holding my hand cupped around my ear.
Judd clears his throat and looks directly at me. “I might have a notebook with unicorn paper in it.”
I laugh loud and spastic, choking on the sound. “Why?” Maybe he has nieces and nephews who love unicorns.
“Because you had one.”
My laughter sputters out. I blink a few times uncertain I’ve heard him correctly. I’m definitely confused. “When I was, like . . . eight?”
“And I was ten.” Judd continues to hold his gaze on me, but sadness pinches his brows and dulls those bright eyes. “You asked me to be your friend then.”
I huff out a laugh. “You remember that?” I uncross my arms and grip the back of a highbacked stool, suddenly feeling like I need something to anchor me.
“No one has ever asked me to be their friend like that.” He doesn’t look away from me. Although his words are soft, his focus is hard on me.
“With unicorn paper?” I lift the sheet once more.
Judd shakes his head and drops his gaze.
I wait out an explanation, thoroughly frustrated, before reminding him of one more detail. “You said you couldn’t be friends with a girl.”
His head snaps upright and Judd braces his hands on the kitchen island. “I was wrong to say that.” His face morphs from distress at the memory to something darker before he closes his eyes and shuts me out a second. When he opens them again, those same eyes shift once more, pleading with me. “I’d like a second chance.”
“At friendship?” I confirm, my shoulders lowering, my voice still tight.
“At everything.” His gaze remains fixed on me, but his voice is low.
I want to ask what’s everything. What does he mean? What does he want? Then, his phone rings, vibrating almost violently on the countertop.
“Shit,” Judd mutters, closing his eyes for another second, before reaching for the phone and answering it. “Yep.”
That single growled word is not the friendliest greeting, but then Judd hangs his head, going from irritated to tortured within seconds. He leans forward, bending at the waist and bracing his forearms on the island, then removes the phone from near his ear and taps it against his forehead a few times, while closing his eyes one more time.
Suddenly, he stands to his full height, puts the phone back to his ear and glances at me and holds. “Yep.” Still watching me, he says. “We’ll be there.”
He clicks off the call and tosses the phone to the countertop.
“We’ve been summoned to the weekly family meal at my brother’s house.”
“Which brother?” I ask, trying to keep track of who is who.
“My eldest one, Stone. He’s the town sheriff. But the call was from Clay. Next in line. He runs the Sylver Seed & Soil.”
Sylver Seed & Soil had been a major sponsor of the Buttercup Society Garden Party.
“Is that why you were at the garden party?”
Judd shakes his head. “I do work for the Seed & Soil. They call me the chief financial officer, but I’m really just the accountant. But that’s not why I was at the party.”
“Then why were you there?”
Judd continues to stare at me and the answer feels like a slow breeze. A tickle against my skin. A sudden chill that’s equal parts refreshing and a bit frightening.
Judd was there for me.
I clear my throat. “So, you need to go to your brother’s house for lunch.”
“ We need to go to my brother’s.”
“We?” I choke.
He licks his lips and slides his hands closer together on the surface of the island while continuing to watch me.
“They want to meet my fiancée.”