Chapter 12
12
H e blurted it out so fast she wasn’t sure she heard him right. “What?”
“Swinging,” he repeated, and it was clear he wasn’t talking about playground equipment.
She shoved up to sit astride him, staring at him in shock. “You were a swinger?”
He nodded, his face so red he looked like a tomato.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed, her hands pressed to her chest. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’ve been in such a dry spell,” she wailed, throwing her hands up, “and the solution was there all along! How could I be so obtuse?”
“Um. That’s not the reaction I was expecting.”
“Sorry. It’s just when I think of all the time I spent watching porn and masturbating…” She shook her head. “Never mind, it’s not important.”
A smirk appeared on his face. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her finger at him. “You’re not getting off that easy. I want to know everything.”
The smirk turned into a grimace. “Everything?”
“Start with the highlights, and then you can go back and fill in the details.”
“Highlights. Okay.” He blew out a breath. “I went the first time because I had just broken up with someone, and I was looking to blow off steam. The club makes everyone sign an NDA, so?—"
“Club?” she interrupted. “Here in Detroit?”
He shook his head. “In Grand Rapids. I haven’t been since I moved.”
“Oh.” That was a vague disappointment—she wouldn’t have minded seeing the inside of a swinger’s club. “Sorry. Continue.”
“Where was I?”
“NDA.”
“Right. It felt safe, so I gave it a try. It was fun, so I kept going. Then I moved, so.” He shrugged. “I stopped.”
She had so many questions. “Do you miss it?”
“No.”
He said it with such simple finality that she blinked. “Not even a little?”
“I miss my friends,” he admitted. “But the rest? Not really.”
“You stay in touch with people you met there?”
His color, which had faded as they talked, zoomed back into the red zone. “Um. Yeah.”
Why was that making him blush, she wondered, then her jaw dropped as it hit her like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, it’s Tuck and Esme, isn’t it?”
He just sighed. “Yeah.”
“You had sex with Esme ?”
He was all but squirming beneath her. “Yes.”
An image of Esme, beautiful and built and va-va-va-voom, popped into Brynn’s head. “Wow.”
“Wow?” he echoed.
“I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got. Wait, did you have sex with Tuck, too?”
“No.” His lips twitched. “I’m straight.”
“Oh.” Deflated, she kissed that fantasy goodbye. “Bummer.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He laid his hands on her thighs, a curious light in his eyes. “This isn’t freaking you out?”
“Not really. Is it supposed to?”
“I thought it might,” he admitted. “Worried it might.”
“I’m not freaked out, I’m jealous.”
Curiosity turned to wary concern. “Because I slept with Esme?”
“What? No.” She waved that away. “I feel like I should high-five you for that. She’s so hot.”
“This conversation is not going at all how I thought it would,” he decided.
“I’m jealous of all the sex you had while I was wearing out my vibrator. I can’t believe I never thought of swinging.”
He stared at her for a moment, then began to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” she protested. “I had to replace the damn thing twice!”
He shook his head, still laughing, and sat up to wrap his arms around her. “God, I love you.”
She froze. “You what?”
His laugh faded, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t. “I said I love you.”
Her heart had lurched into her throat. She tried to swallow it down. “That’s what I thought you said.”
When she didn’t say anything else, one tawny eyebrow rose. “Too soon?”
She bit her lip. “Maybe?”
“We’ve known each other for nine months,” he pointed out.
“We’ve been dating for less than twenty-four hours,” she countered.
“We’ve been living together for a week.”
“That’s temporary,” she reminded him.
“Doesn’t have to be.”
Flustered, she stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“I like having you here,” he said simply. “And also, I love you.”
She tried to ignore the burst of pleasure the words gave her—and the urge to say them back. “My head is spinning.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed.
“It’s okay if you’re not there yet,” he assured her, lifting one hand to brush her hair back. His eyes were calm, his smile sure. “It’ll give me a chance to court you.”
She blinked. “Court me?”
“Woo you,” he clarified.
“Huh.” She thought about that for a second. “I don’t think I’ve ever been wooed.”
“Well, then brace yourself,” he warned and dipped his head to kiss her neck.
“Can the wooing be naked?” she wondered, tipping her head back to give him better access.
His laughter rumbled against her skin. “Oh, yeah.”
“Can it start in the shower?”
He tightened his arm around her waist, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. “I think that can be arranged.”
“I think I might like this wooing business,” she said and, wrapping her legs around his hips, let him carry her into the bath.
By ten-thirty Brynn was pacing the apartment, too restless to sit still. She’d taken Tilly for an extended second walk, telling Jude she wanted to work off the nervous energy. It had worked for the dog—she was snoring on the leather bean bag in the corner, dead to the world. But Brynn seemed more agitated than ever.
“Will it do any good to tell you you’re worrying for nothing?” Jude asked from the sofa. He was stretched out, a book in his hands, watching her pace.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Is there anything I can do to make you worry less?”
“Get a new agent?”
“That’s an option, but hopefully a last resort.” He set down his book. “It’s none of his business, Brynn.”
“He’s not going to see it that way.”
“He’ll have to.” He watched her pace for another few seconds, then set his book on the coffee table and rose.
She stopped pacing when he approached, looking up at him expectantly. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her and drew her in. She stood stiffly for a heartbeat, then her arms slipped around his waist and she melted against him with a sigh.
“Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.
He rested his chin on top of her head. “For what?”
“Being an anxious mess?”
“You’re not a mess,” he assured her.
“Give me a few hours,” she muttered.
“You can come with me,” he reminded her.
She snorted. “So I can have my panic attack in front of Grant? I’m not sure that’s a winning strategy, Jude.”
“It might make you feel more in control to be there,” he offered.
She drew back to look at him, her glasses sliding down her nose. “I’ll either end up in tears or yelling at him.”
He reached up to gently nudge her glasses back into place. “I don’t mind.”
Her gaze softened. “Thanks, but I’d rather our first official public outing not end in me needing a tranquilizer.”
“Fair enough. Maybe you should find something to do, then,” he suggested.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. See a movie, go shopping. Just get out of the house for a while.”
She blew out a breath, making her bangs flutter. “That’s a good idea. If I stay here I’ll just end up baking.”
“Why baking?” he wondered.
“It’s what I do when I’m anxious,” she explained. “Keeps my hands busy, my brain occupied. And if it doesn’t work, at least I have baked goods.”
“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” he said promptly.
She smiled, as he’d hoped she would. “You don’t even know what I’d bake.”
“I’m not picky. Really. Anything with chocolate will do.”
Her eyes, so solemn and serious only moments before, laughed up at him. “Esme said I could stop by the tattoo expo today if I was free. I bet there’s plenty to distract me there.”
Kissing his chocolate chip cookie fantasies goodbye, he nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“And we can compare notes about you in the sack.”
“On second thought…”
“I’m kidding.” She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, then laid her head on his chest.
“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her.
“I know,” she said.
They both pretended to believe her.
Jude got to the restaurant early, wanting to stake out his territory. The after-church brunch crowd was thick, but he was shown to a private corner booth quickly. He started to order a drink, then changed his mind and went with club soda. He was going to need every advantage he could get.
The waiter had barely delivered his drink when he spotted Grant across the restaurant.
Dressed in a black suit with a crimson tie that contrasted sharply with his steel gray hair, he walked toward the booth with the confident, ground-eating stride of someone used to being in charge. He slid into the booth, his mouth set in a grim line and his shark-like eyes glittering. “Jude.”
“Grant,” Jude replied, matching his agent’s abrupt, icy tone. “Nice suit.”
Grant made a show of looking Jude over, taking in the trim grey trousers and matching jacket he’d paired with a crisp white shirt left open at the collar. “You, too. I figured you’d show up in jeans and a Simpsons t-shirt.”
Jude lifted his drink to hide his smile. “I’ll tell Brynn you like it.”
Grant scowled and raised a hand to signal the waiter, his diamond pinky ring flashing. “Scotch, neat, with a twist,” he barked when the waiter appeared.
“Thanks,” Jude said to the waiter with a smile and waited until they were alone before turning back to Grant. “You want to watch the rudeness? I live in this town.”
Grant arched one silvered eyebrow. “Forgive me if my manners aren’t up to your standards. I’m a little preoccupied with my star client trying to blow up his career.”
“Kissing a woman is blowing up my career?” Jude asked mildly, unsurprised when Grant’s eyes narrowed warningly.
“It is when it’s this woman. Are you going to dump her or fire her?”
Jude sat his drink down. “Neither.”
“Fine, then I’ll choose.” Grant picked up his napkin and snapped it out. “I’ll have Chloe start the termination paperwork.”
“The hell you will,” Jude said in the same mild tone.
Grant leaned forward, his fist clenched on the napkin. “You fucking her already?”
Jude controlled his instinctive flinch—and the wave of anger that followed. “That’s not your business, Grant.”
“The hell it’s not. Do you have any idea what a sexual harassment accusation could do to your career?”
Forcing himself to take a calming breath, Jude leaned back. “She’s not going to accuse me of sexual harassment because I’m not sexually harassing her.”
“Don’t be naive,” Grant snapped. “She’s probably already got the papers drawn up.”
Jude fought the urge to snap back that he wasn’t naive and Brynn wasn’t some grifter looking to make a buck off him. It wouldn’t do any good. “It’s my business, Grant.”
Grant leaned in, his shark eyes glittering. “Look, Jude. You’re a good hockey player. You’ve got good hands, some experience under your belt, and the best hockey IQ I’ve seen in a defenseman in this town since Nick Lidstrom.”
Jude blinked, caught off balance. Being compared to a seven-time Norris Trophy winner was possibly the biggest compliment he’d ever received, and the incongruity of hearing it while being simultaneously berated was strange, to say the least.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t fuck this up,” Grant continued. “This team—this town—aren’t invested in you yet, and until they are, you have to keep your ass clean.”
“I’m going to marry her.”
Grant shoveled a hand into his hair and grabbed on so tight Jude wondered that he didn’t yank it out. “What?”
“I’m going to marry her,” Jude repeated. He hadn’t meant to say it—it just popped out—but now that it was out there, he realized it was exactly what he wanted.
“You asked her to marry you?”
“Not yet,” Jude admitted. “But I will.”
“Why?”
Jude stared at his agent, a man who had been his friend, and thought how very sad it was that he didn’t know. “Because I love her.”
“Jesus Christ.” Grant scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I know this last year was a lot. The call-up, the move, not being sure if they were going to keep you or send you back down.”
Jude sipped his drink and nodded, wondering where this was going.
“And I know you haven’t gotten laid in a while.”
Jude started to ask how the hell he knew that, but Grant was still talking.
“And if you want to have yourself a tasty little treat?—”
Jude’s grip on his temper slipped. “She’s not a damn lollipop,” he snapped.
“Jude, listen?—”
“No, you listen.” Jude set his drink down. “You’re a good agent, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But if you push this, if you make me choose between you? I’m choosing her.”
Grant’s face went to stone. “You’re making a mistake.”
“If I am, it’s my mistake to make.”
Grant stared at him for a long moment, his hand fisted on the table. “I’m not going to change your mind about this, am I.”
It wasn’t a question, but Jude answered anyway. “Nope.”
“Because you love her.”
“Yep.”
Grant tapped his fist on the table, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “We need a plan for when the press starts asking questions.”
“I’ll talk to the team’s PR office. Brynn has a pretty good relationship with them. We’ll see what they think and come up with something.”
“I want my people looped in.”
“I’ll have Brynn talk to Chloe.”
“Fine. One thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When I talk to her, am I talking to your assistant or your girlfriend?”
“Does it matter?”
“If I think I’m talking to the assistant and hurt the girlfriend’s feelings and you get pissed, yeah, it’s gonna fuckin’ matter.”
Jude stood. “Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to assistants in a way that could hurt their feelings.”
“Hell,” Grant muttered. “You’re not staying for lunch?”
“Nah. I’m gonna go get my girl.”
“Great.” The waiter delivered his drink, and Grant downed half of it in one gulp. “Try to keep the PDA to a minimum until we’ve got a media plan, will you?”
“I’ll do my best.” Pulling a few bills out of his pocket, he dropped them on the table. “Thanks, Grant.”
“For what?” Grant asked, sarcasm dripping. “Caving to blackmail?”
Jude held out a hand. “For not making me choose.”
Grant sighed and took his hand. “I still think this is a bad idea, but for your sake—and mine—I hope it works out.”
Taking the self-centering philosophically—after all, he’d expected nothing less—Jude just nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Grant released his hand and waved him away. “All right, get out of here. Go find your girl and live happily ever after or whatever the hell.”
“That’s the plan,” Jude said and headed for the door.
Brynn was grateful she’d texted Esme that she’d be coming by, and Esme had responded with a day pass to the expo and directions on how to find her. The pass made getting in easy, and without the directions she’d never have managed to find Esme in the sea of tattoo artists, vendors, and enthusiasts.
She’d spotted the banner with the name of Esme’s tattoo shop on it and was almost there when she happened to look at the booth next door, where a small crowd had gathered to watch whatever was happening. She started to walk around them, and the crowd parted just enough for her to see in the booth.
She stopped dead and stared. “Is that guy getting his penis tattooed?”
The guy next to her grunted. “Yep.”
“With what?” Brynn wondered.
“That,” the guy said, pointing to a drawing hanging up at the back of the booth.
Brynn blinked at it. “That’s Scooby-Doo.”
“Guy must have lost a bet,” someone else speculated.
“Brynn,” Esme called, waving from her booth next door, and Brynn slipped through the crowd to join her.
“You made it,” Esme said with a smile. She wore snug jeans and a black tank top, her black hair was up in a high ponytail that put the streaks in her hair on full display, and her lips were painted murder red.
“Barely,” Brynn replied, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder to see how Scooby was coming along. “I’m not interrupting your work, am I?”
“I finished with a client a few minutes ago, and I’m due for a break. I’m taking fifteen, Chris,” Esme called to the lanky, dark- haired man doing a leg piece at the back of the booth on a bored-looking guy playing on his phone.
Chris jerked his chin in acknowledgment, the needle never leaving his client’s skin, and Esme motioned for Brynn to follow. “Come on. We’ve got a couple of chairs stashed behind the booth. I’ll buy you an energy drink.”
“Got anything decaffeinated?” Brynn asked, ducking through the drape behind Esme. There were two folding chairs with a battered Igloo cooler between them.
Esme flipped the lid of the cooler back. “Water okay?”
“Perfect.”
Esme handed her the bottle, grabbed an energy drink for herself, and sat. “Have a seat. Jude didn’t come with you?”
Brynn sat and sipped her water, hoping it would ease the tightness in her throat. “He’s having lunch with his agent. He said he’d come by after.”
“Cool.” Esme leaned back in her chair. “So, what do you think of the expo?”
“The man in the next booth is getting Scooby-Doo tattooed on his penis.”
Esme let out a low laugh. “I figured by the crowd it was something like that.”
“Do you see a lot of that sort of thing?”
“Well, Scooby-Doo is certainly a choice,” Esme said. “Or did you mean the penis?”
Brynn nodded. “That part.”
“Sometimes. Usually, the person asking for it is too drunk to tat. And they hardly ever come back when they’re sober. But every once in a while.” Esme took a sip of her drink. “Do you have any?”
“Tattoos?” Brynn shook her head. “No. I’m too scared it’ll hurt. My friend Amy has a couple, and she says it’s not that bad, but…”
“Everyone’s different,” Esme said easily. “What feels like nothing to one person can be horrible for another. And placement matters.”
“Amy says I should just get one on my ass. Because, you know, padding.”
Esme’s lips twitched. “I do know.”
“But if I’m going to get a tattoo, I want to be able to see it.”
“I agree,” a new voice chimed in, and Esme looked up to smile at Tuck, who had poked his head through the drape at the back of the booth.
“There you are,” she said warmly, reaching out a hand. “I thought you got lost.”
Tuck pushed the drape aside and bent to kiss her. “Sorry. I got distracted watching someone do a traditional Māori face tattoo.”
“Oh, nice. But you were supposed to bring me food.”
Tuck reached back and produced a chocolate bar from his pocket. “Got you covered, babe.”
Esme took it with a grimace. “I wanted real food.”
“Which is why I ordered you a salad,” Tuck said. “It’s on its way.”
“You’re the best.” Esme grabbed a fistful of his beard and tugged him down for another kiss.
“I know.” With a smirk, Tuck scooped her up, sat, and settled her on his lap. “You want something, Brynn? I can add to the order.”
Brynn shook her head and tried not to sigh with envy at the picture they made. “I’m good, but thanks.”
“No problem. So, did you and Jude bone?”
Brynn spit out the water she’d just drank, and Esme whacked him with her candy bar. “Tucker!”
“What? Like you don’t want to know?”
“Of course, I want to know, but you don’t just blurt it out like that.”
“Why not?”
“I apologize for my husband, Brynn,” Esme said, whacking him with the candy bar again. “He has no tact.”
“Um. It’s okay,” Brynn managed, wiping at the front of her shirt.
“And who says bone?” Esme asked, exasperated.
“I do. I say bone,” Tuck said and turned avid brown eyes on Brynn. “So, did you?”
Esme whacked him with the candy bar again, and Brynn began to laugh.
“Don’t encourage him,” Esme grumbled, but she was smiling.
“Yes,” Brynn finally managed to say. “We boned.”
Tuck sent his wife a smug look. “Told ya.”
“Behave,” she admonished him and turned to Brynn. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Brynn said, surprised at both the question and the concern in Esme’s expression.
“I only ask because…well, you seemed upset when you got here. And not just about Scooby-Doo.”
“Scooby-Doo?” Tuck echoed.
“Yeah, well, that’s because Jude’s agent is…”
“Is what?” Esme asked when she trailed off.
“Not in favor of us being together,” Brynn finished.
Esme and Tuck exchanged a look. “Does he get a vote?” Tuck wanted to know.
“No,” Brynn admitted. “But he sure has an opinion about it.”
“The boss/assistant thing, I assume?” Esme asked.
Brynn nodded. “He’s going to try to convince him to dump me, fire me, or both.”
Tuck snorted. “Good luck to that guy.”
Brynn stared. “What?”
“You ever tried to convince Jude to do something he doesn’t want to?”
“All the time,” Brynn answered, perplexed. “I’m his assistant.”
“Yeah? What’s the last thing you convinced him to do?”
“To let me take pictures and video of him at practice and in the gym for social media,” Brynn replied.
“Yeah, I bet he hated that,” Tuck mused, then waved a hand. “But he knows that kind of thing is part of the gig. He was probably always going to agree, he just wanted you to work for it.”
Brynn blinked. Work for it?
“I think what Tuck is trying to say,” Esme interjected, “is that we’ve known Jude a long time?—”
“That’s not what I was saying at all,” Tuck protested.
Esme patted his arm. “I know, baby, but you were fumbling it.”
“Was not,” Tuck muttered.
Ignoring him, Esme turned back to Brynn. “Jude is not a man who could be talked into abandoning someone he cares about.”
“I know that,” Brynn claimed, then sighed. “But I’m still scared.”
“I thought we talked about this,” Jude said from behind her, and Brynn nearly fell out of her chair.
He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Woah, there.”
“What are you doing here?” she managed.
“I finished with Grant early.” He slid his hand down her arm to take her hand and pull her to her feet. “And I had a delivery to make.”
“Delivery?” she echoed blankly, then noticed the paper bag in his hand.
“One chef salad, ranch on the side,” Jude declared, handing the bag over to Tuck. “And an order of fries.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Tuck passed the bag to Esme. “Here you go.”
“You had Jude bring me a salad?”
“None of the food delivery apps would come to the Renaissance Center,” Tuck complained.
“You mean you would’ve had to meet them outside and you didn’t want to.”
“That’s what I said.”
Esme rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Jude.”
“You’re welcome. Excuse me.” Jude turned to Brynn. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she managed, then he was kissing the breath out of her.
“Aw,” Tuck said. “You guys are so cute.”
“Shut up, Tucker,” Esme said, and there was a whap that told Brynn she’d hit him with the candy bar again.
Jude lifted his head to smile down at her. “You gonna stop worrying now?”
She swallowed. “I guess that depends on what Grant said.”
“He said everything you thought he would,” Jude said calmly, lifting one hand to brush her bangs out of her eyes.
She forced herself to breathe. “And what did you say?”
“That it was none of his business.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “That’s it?”
“He wants to put a plan in place for if or when the media starts asking questions. I told him we’d talk to the team’s PR people, and loop Chloe in.”
She nodded. That was reasonable, and smart. “Okay. And?”
“And then nothing. I left, picked up Esme’s salad and fries, and here I am.”
“That can’t have been it.”
“There was some discussion of possible consequences,” he admitted.
“I bet,” she muttered.
“But he’s on board.”
“How is that possible?” Brynn wondered.
Jude feathered his fingertips over her lips. “Because I told him if I had to choose, I’d choose you.”
That got him an aw from both Tuck and Esme
Jude rolled his eyes. “Shut up, you two. I’m wooing.”
“I never saw anybody woo before,” Tuck said. “Do you need lube for that?”
“You never know,” Jude said, his blue eyes glowing with humor and heat and so much love she almost couldn’t believe it.
“Jude,” she said softly.
“Brynn,” he said. “I told you. I love you.”
Esme gasped, Tuck hooted, and Brynn smiled. “I know. I love you, too.”
Delight leaped into his eyes and he scooped her up, kissing her with such emotion that tears sprang to her eyes. Then he was spinning her in a circle, laughing.
“You hear that?” he called out, giddy joy on his face. “She loves me.”
“We heard,” Tuck called back while Esme clapped and cheered.
He spun to a stop, holding her tight. “She loves me,” he said again, quietly, reverently, and laid his brow against hers.
“Jude?” Brynn asked.
“Yeah?”
“Were you always going to say yes to me taking pictures and videos of you at practice and in the gym?”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Probably.”
“So you just gave me shit about it for fun?”
His smile grew. “I don’t think you should talk to Tuck anymore.”
“I already gave her my number,” Tuck informed him.
“You want to hang out here for a while?” Jude asked, ignoring his friend.
She shook her head. “I already saw a guy getting Scooby-Doo tattooed on his penis, so I’m good.”
His eyebrows rose at that, but all he said was, “Want to go home?”
“Yes, please.”
Jude looked at his friends. “You two want to meet us for dinner tonight?”
“You buying?” Tuck wanted to know.
Esme elbowed him. “We’d love to.”
Jude started walking backward, taking Brynn with him. “I’ll let you know where and when.”
“We’ll be there,” Esme promised, smiling, and gave Brynn a wave.
“Thanks,” Brynn said, her gaze darting between Jude and Esme as Jude towed her toward the exit. “For the pep talk.”
“Anytime,” Esme called after her.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tuck advised.
“Is there anything he wouldn’t do?” Brynn asked Jude.
He hit the release bar on the exit door and they spilled out into the sunshine. “Not much.” His hand tight on hers, he smiled. “Do we need to stop for anything on the way home?”
“Maybe some lube,” she said breezily. “I think I’d like you to woo my butt tonight.”
His grin spread, his eyes like bright blue flames. “You would?”
“Why not? Carpe the goddamn diem,” she declared.
“Oh, I’ll seize it,” he vowed, eyes glittering. “I’ll seize the hell out of it.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said smugly and, with his hand in hers, walked into her future.