Chapter Two #3
Once Jude has paid for his drink, he joins me.
He looks uncomfortable as he perches in the tall chair.
I smile as I study him. He avoids making eye contact with me, but I don’t think it’s because he’s shy.
He’s closed off. I suspect he’s been a unit of one for a long time and has forgotten how to interact with others as anything other than a cop.
I clear my throat. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Jude. Do you have any brothers or sisters back in Florida?”
He grimaces. “No. I’m an only child.”
“Aww, that’s too bad.”
He glances up. “Is it?”
I lift one shoulder. “I’m sure your parents would have wanted a bigger family.” Most wolves like to have at least three kids.
He huffs quietly. “You don’t know my parents.”
His answer isn’t exactly what I expected. “Are they sad you left Florida?”
“No.”
I widen my eyes at that. His experience is so different from how my close-knit family operates, it’s hard to wrap my head around. “Seriously? They didn’t care that you left?”
“They died a long time ago.”
“Oh, damn,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.” He just shrugs which seems rather cold.
He clears his throat. “But even if they had been alive when I left, they wouldn’t have cared.” His blue eyes meet mine with an almost challenging look. “I gather from the horrified expression on your face your family is different?”
My laugh is raspy. “Hell, yes. My mom would die if me or my older brother left the mountain. Her kids are her life. Dad’s the same way. Jack, that’s my brother, and I never once thought about leaving Golden Peak. This is home.”
“Not all families are the same.”
“No, I know.” I do know that, but family is very important to me. It’s always shocking to me when other’s don’t feel the same. Especially wolves. The pack and family is everything. At least, that’s how it is here in Golden Peak.
The awkward conversation dies a natural and welcome death when Marie brings our drinks and food over to our table. I busy myself with my sandwich and Jude takes a sip of his latte. He nods as if he approves. We sit in silence for a while but then Jude straightens and meets my gaze.
“So, who runs things around here?” he asks.
I set my half-eaten breakfast sandwich down. “Well, of course we have Mayor Jones. She works closely with the town council and the chief to keep things running smoothly.”
Jude’s eyes flicker. “No, I mean who really runs things. Not politically but…”
I catch on to what he’s actually asking. “Oh.” I glance around and lower my voice. “The main pack around here is the Golden Peak Wolves. Caleb Rourke runs things. He’s a good guy. Keeps things stable.”
“Okay.” He shifts in his seat. “And you belong to that group?” I hesitate and he adds, “I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t step on anybody’s toes. It helps if I understand things.”
“I get it.” It’s good that he’s asking. He’s not doing it in a challenging way. He’s just trying to orient himself. Figure out where he stands. That’s okay. In fact, that’s good. “The Golden Peak are my people, yeah.”
“And there won’t be any problem with me being… an outsider?”
“I don’t see why there would be.” I give him an encouraging smile. “Unless you treat wolf business like police business.”
“Fair enough,” he says softly.
“Caleb has no issue with outsiders unless they start trouble. I don’t see you causing problems so you have nothing to worry about.”
“No, I’m just here to do my job. I don’t want any trouble or drama in my life.” He picks up his latte and takes a sip.
I watch him for a minute, then ask, “I’m assuming since you’re here you have no allegiance to any pack in Atlanta?”
He shakes his head.
I frown because it’s very unusual for a wolf to have no pack. A pack is family. How does someone go through life without that support system in place? “How about back in Florida?”
He meets my gaze. “I’m not affiliated with any group. I prefer it that way.”
“Do you?” I murmur. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
He drops his gaze. “No.”
I don’t believe him. He might be closed off but he’s still flesh and blood.
Everyone gets lonely sometimes. Even wolves who prefer to go through life single get lonely on occasion.
But now is not the time to push. Maybe when I know him better I can ask him some more questions. For now, I’ll leave it.
I shove the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and wash it down with coffee. As we’re leaving the coffeehouse, my radio crackles with a call.
“Unit 12, we have a 10-15 at Patterson’s Drugstore on Main. Juvenile shoplifting.”
I tap my shoulder mic. “Unit 12 responding.” Meeting Jude’s gaze, I say, “Looks like you get to go on your first call with GPPD.”
“Yippee.” Jude’s tone is sardonic. “I get to pop my cherry.”
It’s obviously a joke, and I’m taken off guard when heat flushes through me at his choice of words.
Why his cliché sexual reference affects me physically I have no idea.
But I’m embarrassed by how my body reacts to the thought of him popping his cherry.
There’s something about Jude that makes me physically aware of him in a way I’m not comfortable with.
But I’m not about to examine those feelings right now, so I push them away. We have a job to do. I don’t have time to think about why my new partner makes me feel like I’m going through puberty all over again.