Chapter 14
Jude
“Don’t seeyour ass sitting at my bar too often.”
Bobby slings his towel back over his shoulder and sets two fresh waters in front of me.
He isn’t wrong. I rarely leave my sanctuary for a meal in town. I’ll join my siblings for the random drink or family get-together, but otherwise, I keep to myself.
The eager citizens of Fairview Valley stick their noses in my business whenever I decide to show my face. This time is no exception.
“You see it enough.”
“Food’s almost ready. Where’d your pretty little girlfriend run off to?”
“Not my girlfriend,” I grunt and accept a mouthful of the icy drink. The glass clinks loudly as I return it to the bar. “You talk about her like that again we’re going to have a problem.”
Bobby laughs. “It’s a compliment.”
“It’s predatory.”
“I’ll go check in with Ruben in the kitchen. Seems like someone is a little hangry.”
The tune he whistles as he goes is provokingly unbothered.
I can’t help feeling protective of Frankie. Despite the fact she’s stubborn as a rock. I have no doubt she could thrive in this town on her own, but the thought of her just barely scraping by fucks me up.
I know what survival feels like. Jack and I spent some time without housing in our teens, and it’s not something I’d wish on anybody, let alone knowingly leave them to deal with when I have the means to help them.
None of that has to do with the fact she’s also a decent fucking person. She deserves more than this world has handed her so far, based on the limited amount of information she’s given me.
Frankie hasn’t been exactly shy about sharing her story. That nervous need to fill the quiet has her revealing more than she probably intends. And I soak up every damn morsel, eager to hear more of her life spill from her lips.
She’s the most interesting story I’ve ever skimmed, and I find myself desperate to drink up every single word.
A warm hand settles confidently on my back, alerting me to her stealthy return.If I couldn”t smell Frankie”s perfume, I”d throw the mysterious limb off without thought.Even so, I tense at the unfamiliar touch.Fingertips dance along the collar of my shirt, dangerously close to the bare skin over my neck. At the proximity to the horrors of my past I”m yet to reveal and not sure I ever will. The longer she strokes, the more accustomed I become to the gentle pressure of her flush against me.
I raise my cold beer to my lips, taking a measured sip while I wait to see where she”s going with this.
She leans in, her torso firm against my side. The swell of her breasts flatten against my arm. Her breath is a soft breeze against my ear, and sends a pulsating throb straight to my cock. ”I need you to kiss me,” she whispers urgently.
The numbers take off like a bomb detonating in my head.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
My eyes soften as I turn to look down at her, and they sweep her face almost lazily. I search her eyes before glancing at her pink mouth.
”Please, Jude.” Those sinful lips barely twitch as she inaudibly mouths the words. ”Please, kiss me.”
I slide my fingers with all the gentleness I”ve never had to muster into the hair at the back of her head, sifting through the strands. They feel like silk. I fight the urge to twist her hair around my fist and play with it in my palm.
The entirety of her head is cradled in my hand as I wait for the numbers to stop, but they don”t. Higher and higher they reach, rolling through my brain like a freight train.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
No sign of stopping.
Fourteen. Fifteen.
My palms dampen. A bead of sweat glides down the back of my neck beneath the collar of my shirt, rolling over puckered scars and ruined skin.
Sixteen.
My heart thunders like horses” hooves racing across a pasture. I trace my thumb over her soft lips. The way her breath catches punches me in the gut.
Seventeen.
Rejection shimmers in her eyes beneath the pendant lights, a jagged dagger to my heart. I feel her tense in my hold.
Eighteen.
”Fuck it,” I mutter beneath my breath and slowly lean in.
Nineteen—
Shocked eyes drift closed just before my lips press to hers, and the numbers cease as the feel of her takes over my every thought. Time stands still. The sound in the bar fades away beneath the waves of white static in my mind. Blissful silence encases me until I”m nothing but Frankie. The feel of her beneath my lips. The warmth of her against me. She whimpers, and I haul her even more flush to my body, slipping my tongue between her pliant lips.
Something within my chest shifts, locking into place. A hole I wasn”t aware of is suddenly filled.
I sample her mouth, needing to taste her. This might be the one and only time I kiss her, and I”m not about to waste a single second of her in my arms.
For whatever reason, this kiss is different from any that have come before. I feel drugged without ever having used. The constant tension running through my body like an electric current ceases, banished by this connection to her. Frankie suppresses the recurrent urge to remain on high alert.
My shoulders relax as her arm wraps tight around the muscles. A groan rumbles in my chest, tickling my throat. I pull back, only to dive back in, too eager for more to let her go just yet.
Frankie practically crawls into my lap. Her movement forces my knee between her thighs. I nearly whimper at the heat pressed against my leg. The dampness I know to be hidden beneath her tight jeans.
All too soon, she”s pulling back. Her shoulders heaving as she fights for breath.
Our faces are only inches apart. I lick my lips, fighting every instinct to drag her out of this restaurant so I can properly ravish her. Her hooded eyes blink slowly, and a pink flush colors her cheeks.
I don”t know where the fuck this is coming from, but I don”t care. Not about her intentions. Not about mine.
One kiss and I”ve become devastatingly addicted to her.
Which is unfortunate, because I suspect this fleeting moment is a one-time thing.
Plates landing on the bar startle us apart. Frankie scrambles back onto her stool, damn near tipping over in the process. I hide my prideful grin behind a mouthful of beer.
”Not your girlfriend, my ass,” Bobby mumbles as he walks back into the kitchen.
”Eat.” I gesture to Frankie”s burger and pick up a single fry from my own plate.
”Don”t you want to know—”
”Eat first.” I chew slowly, then swallow. ”After your plate”s clean, I”m taking you home. Then you can tell me what the hell that kiss was about.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch the slight tremble in her hand as she sips her water. She sets the glass back on the cocktail napkin. ”Dillon”s here.”
”Who?”
”My ex.”
My head whips around so fast, my neck cramps. I set my burger back on my plate and stand.
”Where is he?” I scan the back of the bar for a total stranger. Though I bet I could pick out the prick without looking at a photograph. They’re all the same. Lanky. Arrogant. Wearing a bitch-ass expression right up until the point someone teaches them a lesson for beating up on women.
Her fingers wrap tenderly around my bicep. ”I think he”s gone.”
”He talked to you?” I look down into her pretty brown eyes.
”Yes.” Even in that one word, the shame she carries on her shoulders is apparent.
I settle back on my stool and pick up my burger again. ”Eat before it gets cold, Frankie.”
”I”m sorry. I shouldn”t have asked you to kiss me.”
”Baby, I”d have done a lot more than kiss you if I knew that asshole was watching. All you had to do was ask. But, I’m not about to let him spoil your dinner.”
I’d have fucked her on the bar if it taught that asshole a lesson. But I don’t tell her that.
I wait until she sinks her teeth into her burger before tasting my own. Her shoulders visibly relax as she chews.
“Good?” I ask, watching her go in for a second bite. The corner of my mouth twitches at her blissful expression.
“So good.”
“Ruben’s well known around here for his burgers.”
“Maybe we should make this a weekly tradition. I can already tell I’m going to be thinking about this meal tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
“Uh-huh,” she titters around another bite.
I finish chewing before I ask, “What?”
“You’re plenty agreeable when it’s you footing the bill. Does this mean you’re done fighting me over cooking us breakfast?”
“I can’t argue that the quiche was pretty fucking good.”
“Just the quiche?” She raises a single eyebrow.
“You’re adept at making breakfast.”
“It’s not just breakfast. I could blow your socks off with my fettuccine Alfredo.”
She could blow my socks off in another way that has nothing to do with food. Fucking hell. One kiss and I’ve been thrust back into my teenage years, unable to think about anything except kissing her again.
We finish our food. Her empty plate pleases me more than it should. As we stand to leave, her head swivels to scan our surroundings. Tension tightens her shoulders and drives them toward her ears.
I slip my hand casually around hers and tug her beside me.
“Let’s get out of here.” I dip my head, murmuring so only she can hear.
Her trusting nod swells my heart three times its size, and I guide her out the door.
The first step into the cool night feels like resurfacing from underwater. The fog from our shared bubble clears. Numbers tease the edge of my consciousness. The threat of her ex lingers, but I’m aware of the danger he presents this time.
For the past two weeks, he’s been a fictional character in Frankie’s story.
Now he’s the villain in mine.
“I think I screwed up.”
I pause in pulling my seat belt over my shoulder, turning to give her my full attention. “How so?”
She twists her fingers together in her lap and worries her lip.
A tingle begins in my fingertips, and sweat dampens my palms. I count to three before she starts talking again.
“When I was talking to Dillon, I said something about him dropping me off on the side of the road.” She licks her lips.
“That isn’t what happened.”
“I know.” She shakes her head. “I just, I think for a moment I forgot the details. I got confused.”
My heart crashes against my ribs. I grab her chin in my palm and tilt her face back to study her eyes. They look clear. Her pupils are equal size, dilating slightly the longer as I study her.
“Is this new?”
“I haven’t been able to remember since you found me.”
“What?” I bark, loud enough for her to jump. I slap my seat belt on, checking that hers is secure before cranking the engine and pulling out.
“My scans came back clear. The doctor said this can happen sometimes, and it’s often temporary. I think Dillon caught on to the fact I don’t remember and tried to twist the facts of what really happened in his favor.”
“What did he say?” I rage inside at the thought of that fucker using the knowledge against her.
“He said we had a fight. I just don’t remember what we were fighting about.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I snarl low. “I suspected you were bloody for reasons other than your tumble from his car. That motherfucker put his hands on you.”
Her breath hitches, and she exhales slowly, grounding herself. “I believe that too and it terrifies me that I don’t remember,” she admits quietly.
I yank the wheel in a hard left and park us in a residential driveway. “Come on.” I kill the engine and hop out.
Before Frankie has her door open, I’m at her side of the van. She steps out, and I pick up her hand again. Towing her gently, I ease my pace.
“Where are we?”
Three thunderous knocks on the front door is my answer. When thirty seconds pass without a response, I hammer on the door again.
“Open up, Jake!”
The porch light clicks on, bathing us in a yellow glow.
“Who’s Jake?”
The door creaks open. “What the hell, Jude? I’m sitting down to dinner.”
With Frankie’s hand still tight in mine, I drag her inside. “You owe me a favor.”
“Sure, come on in, buddy. Make yourself at home,” Jake says sarcastically. The door clicks shut behind us.
“We need an exam.”
Jake crinkles his nose. “Examining burning genitals isn’t something I do in my home. You’ll have to see me at the clinic.”
Frankie hiccups a laugh of surprise, her hand tightening on mine.
“Not that kind of exam, asshole. She needs her head looked at.” I drag her back to my front, crossing my arm over her chest and holding her tight against me.
“Have you been to the hospital?” Jake’s all business as he repositions himself in front of us.
“She has.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She’s still confused.”
“Maybe you should let her answer my questions,” Jake says over Frankie’s head. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Jake Parnell. Do you want to fill me in so this ogre doesn’t have an aneurysm?”
Frankie’s shoulders shake against my arm.
“He’s overreacting. I had a head injury two weeks ago after a fall. The doctor at the hospital said my scans were all clear and that I just had a concussion.”
“I see. Do you mind if I poke around?”
“Go ahead.”
“You mind letting her go?” Jake raises an eyebrow at me until I release Frankie from my hold.
Jake prods around the sides and back of her skull with his fingertips. “Jude says you’ve been confused?”
“I can’t remember what happened right before the accident. And then tonight, I recalled something incorrectly. Just for a moment. I remembered right after, but it was like for a second, the information wasn’t as clear.”
“Are you still having any symptoms of the concussion?”
“No.”
“Did you bring this up when you had the scans?”
“I did. The doctor said that it happens and the memory loss can be temporary or permanent.”
Jake runs his palms over his thighs. “He’s right, unfortunately. If your scans were clear and you’re feeling better otherwise, I think post-traumatic amnesia is likely. And not uncommon.”
Frankie shrugs. “That’s what I was told.”
“Then why attempt to bust my door down?” Jake raises an eyebrow with a slight grin.
Frankie leans in. “He was worried,” she stage-whispers.
I try to hide an exasperated huff with a cough.
“If he’s still worried, I recommend following up in the clinic with myself or another doctor. Since this isn’t an official diagnosis or anything.” Jake winks.
Frankie looks around the room as if she’s just realizing we’re standing in a stranger’s house. “This is a little odd to have a medical consult in someone’s living room.”
“We go way back,” I supply.
“And since someone hardly likes to leave his sanctuary, I make house calls. Otherwise, he’d have lost a limb to gangrene by now.”
A slow count to five is all it takes to imagine the anxiety in my body leaching from my feet into the floor.
“In all seriousness, I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you,” Frankie says.
I slip beside her and retake her hand. I tell myself I’m touching her for her benefit.
I’m telling myself lies.
“We’ll let you get back to your dinner.”
Jake walks us to the door and bids us good night.
“Do you have it in you for one more stop?” I ask once we’re back on the road.
“That depends if you’re springing any more random exams on me.”
“I think one’s enough for tonight.”
When I pull up at the only department store in Fairview Valley, she doesn’t say a word.
I grab a basket at the entrance. “If you need anything while we’re here, put it in here.”
“It might be nice to choose my own underwear,” she says cheekily.
My footsteps halt like I just stepped into quicksand. Images of what those underwear might look like fill my head while I will myself not to get hard.
“Good god, woman, I’m just a man,” I rasp.
If there’s one thing I could say about Frankie, it’s that at all times she keeps me on my fucking toes.
“What was that?”
“I said whatever you need,” I grunt, praying my cheeks aren’t red.
“I was just kidding. Your sisters have good taste. You should see the look on your face right now.”
“I do not have a look on my face.” I furrow my brows.
“I think this is that aneurysm Jake mentioned. Maybe we should’ve checked your head.”
The most I can muster is a scowl.
“What are we here for?”
I stop us in front of a display in the electronics department. “A phone.”
She rocks back and forth on her toes. “Okay.”
I throw the first prepaid phone I find into the basket.
“Need anything else?”
“Um, would it be okay if I got a sketchbook and some pencils? I can pay you back. Or you can deduct it from my check. Whatever works for you.”
Without saying a word, I lead us to the art supplies.
“Which one?”
“The basic one is fine.”
“No, which one do you normally like to use?”
She stops her fidgeting to look at me. “How do you know I have a preference?”
Without taking my eyes off the assortment of spiral-bound books, I dig into my pocket and retrieve her note from the day she stole my van. “Anyone who can draw like this doesn’t get that way without practice.”
“You kept my drawing?” she whispers.
“No.” I tuck the slightly worn paper back into my jeans, along with my vulnerability. “I kept your note as evidence in case you decided to steal my van again. The drawing is a bonus.”
That isn’t the truth and we both know it.
She looks behind us both ways before walking into the aisle. After a short perusal, she selects a spiral-topped notebook and continues down the aisle to the pencils on the other end. She pokes her head out, looking left and right. Her shoulders fall, and she turns her attention toward the rack.
“Frankie?”
She quickly grabs a pack of wooden pencils. “Hmm?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She drops the items into the basket. She steps around me and looks up and down the main aisle again.
I catch her wrist. “He’s not here.”
Guilt clouds her brown eyes.
“I promise he isn’t going to come near you again.”
“How do you know that?”
Blindly, I reach into the basket until my fingers find the cell phone. I hold the packaging up. “Because this is for you. As soon as we get home, I’m programming mine and each of my brothers’ numbers in here. If you see him, you call me. If you can’t reach me, you call one of my brothers. Until you remember what happened, we’re going to assume he’s dangerous, and that means we have your back until he’s no longer a threat.”
“It’s a big ask.”
“Nobody knows the meaning of family more than the Powells, and you might have just got here, but they’ve already claimed you. Just ask any one of my siblings.”