17. Jude
Jude
This goddamn cold is determined to make my life miserable today.
My fingers are numb despite the thick gloves I’m wearing.
The wind keeps cutting through my jacket, and the damn replacement window refuses to sit properly in the frame.
I balance on the ladder, glaring at the pane as if I can intimidate it into cooperating.
Reopening is in a little over a week, for fuck’s sake.
“Taylor,” I call. “Hand me the drill.”
Nothing.
I grit my teeth.
“Taylor.”
Still nothing.
With an impatient growl, I look over my shoulder. He’s standing a few feet away, staring at me with a strange expression.
“What?” I snap.
He blinks, as if I’ve interrupted some deep thought, then finally hands me the tool. “I saw Roman coming out of your room last night.”
I take it from him. “And?”
He’s trying very hard to look casual, but failing miserably. “Are you and Roman sleeping together?”
“That’s what grown folks do, Taylor. They fuck.”
The words come out rougher than I intend.
I turn back to the window. A few seconds pass, and he doesn’t respond.
The silence stretches long enough to make me look around.
Taylor is walking away—no, storming. His shoulders are stiff, hands tucked in his pockets.
He disappears around the corner of a building, and for a moment, I consider letting him go.
Cursing under my breath, I climb down the ladder. I soon find him in the barn, pacing. He stops when I enter and turns his back to me.
Closing the distance, I spin him around. “What’s your problem?”
Taylor stares at his feet. “Forget it.”
Like hell I will. “No. Tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
I tilt up his chin with my index finger. “You’re such a terrible liar.”
He exhales sharply. His shoulders slump. “Like I said, it’s nothing. I was just being an idiot.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
Another sharp sigh, and then he winces. “I thought...” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“Taylor.”
His gaze meets mine. “I misread the signs.”
And now I’m confused. “What signs?”
“The ones where you flirted with me. I thought you were interested. Obviously, I was mistaken.”
Oh... now it clicks. A chuckle escapes. “Roman and I aren’t together, pretty boy. It’s nothing serious.”
Surprise settles in his eyes. “Okay...”
“Satisfied?”
“Yeah—well, no. I don’t understand. You’re both living together. How can you be casual?”
“Because we don’t want anything more than that. I’m not looking to settle down anytime soon, and Roman... well, he pretty much swore off relationships when his partner left him years ago.”
“Damn.” Taylor winces. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” I sigh, feeling a familiar rush of pity for Roman. “Imagine your boyfriend packing up and leaving when your business started falling apart.”
“God, no. I can’t imagine that,” he says. “But if that happened to me, I wouldn’t want to get burned again, either.”
Ah. So he understands. Good. “Well, there you have it,” I reply.
“Not quite.” He quirks an eyebrow at me. “I understand Roman’s point of view, but why don’t you want to settle down?”
The easy, rehearsed response floats off my tongue. “I like my freedom.”
“Oh… okay.” It’s hard to tell if my answer satisfies him.
“Are we cool?” I ask, throwing up both hands, when he says nothing more. “Is the interrogation over, detective?”
A sheepish smile tugs at his mouth. “I wasn’t judging you and Roman, you know. I really don’t care if you are... um...” His gaze averts to my chest. “You do you. And him. And whoever you want—okay, I’m going to shut up now.”
I snicker, gently patting his red cheek, then I turn and head to the door. Almost there, I pause. “You were wrong about one thing.”
“Which is?”
I walk back to where he’s standing. The space separating us shrinks until I can see every detail of his face—the faint freckles across his nose and the curiosity in his eyes.
Reaching up, I tuck a golden strand behind his ear.
The gesture feels surprisingly natural. A tenderness settles over me that I don’t entirely understand, but for once, I don’t want to fight it. “You didn’t misread the signs.”
Taylor wets his lips. He takes a step closer.
Then another. His gaze lingers on my mouth.
For the first time all day, I don’t feel cold at all.
In fact, my entire system is on fire. A violent spark of need erupts inside me, testing my self-control.
I’ve never wanted to kiss another man so fucking badly.
But the last thing I’d want is for him to do something he’d regret.
“I want more than signs,” he whispers, tilting his head, staring up at me, wetting his lips once more. “I won’t be here for long.”
His words send a healthy flow of blood to my groin. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
The tension between us snaps when our lips meet. I kiss him softly at first. Carefully. Almost as if I’m trying not to break him. But then he moans and grips the front of my jacket. He breaks the last shred of my restraint.
Groaning, I press him against the steel wall. My tongue dives between his lips. He kisses me back with the same hunger, matching every stroke, every lick, making me hard as hell. I pound him into the steel, letting him feel what he’s doing to me.
“I want you,” I whisper.
He sighs into my mouth. I sense his hesitation, even though he’s as hard as I am.
“It’s okay. You can tell me to fuck off,” I assure him. “Say the word, and I will leave you alone.”