Chapter 20
Ash
I knocked on Jude’s door at six. Riley stood beside me with her arms crossed and her evil doll grin already painted on her face.
“This is a terrible idea,” she said.
“It’s a great idea.”
“He’s gonna kill you.”
“Probably.” I knocked again, louder this time. “But it’ll be worth it.”
The door swung open, and Jude stood there in his typical sweatpants and baggy shirt, moon boot wrapped around his right foot. His hair was unstyled, falling across his forehead in a way that made my lips quirk into a smile.
“What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked between us. “And why is Riley in costume?”
“Get dressed.” I pushed past him into the apartment. “You’ve got work tonight.”
“What?” He turned, confusion written all over his face. “Ash, I can’t work. I’m injured.”
“I know that.” I headed to his bedroom and started pulling clothes from the closet. “That’s why this is gonna be different.”
“Different how?” He followed me, hobbling on the boot. He didn’t need the crutches as much anymore, but walking was still slow and problematic. The over-the-top protective side of me was desperate to lend him a hand—or toss him over my shoulder again—but I knew he’d rebel with Riley present.
“Ash, you know I can’t perform. Doctor’s orders. Parker’s orders. My fucking ankle’s orders.”
I tossed his tactical pants at him. Jude missed catching them, so they draped over his head and shoulders.
He grabbed them with a huff, his hair now messy beyond belief.
It was such a good look on him, though my judgment was no doubt skewed.
It reminded me of how he looked when I was through thoroughly debauching him.
And I’d certainly seen Jude in that state a lot this week.
Getting to spend actual time with Jude had been surreal.
Not just stolen moments in storage closets or hurried encounters in the parking lot, but real time.
Mornings waking up in his bed and nights falling asleep with him pressed against my side.
Once he got his head to shut up, Jude was a real snuggler, and I loved it.
Being nicer to each other hadn’t dulled the sex either.
It was still incredible, maybe even more so now.
Thursday night we’d barely made it to the couch before I’d had him bent over the arm, both of us still half-dressed and frantic.
Yesterday morning I’d fucked him against the bathroom counter, watching his face in the mirror as he came apart.
He kept swearing revenge and saying he was going to fuck my lights out, but until his ankle healed, we both knew I was in charge.
But it was the other stuff that really got to me.
The so-called boring stuff that couples did, like the night we’d argued about which Lord of the Rings movie was better while we ate takeout or him swearing like a sailor when I said the Hobbit trilogy had its moments.
He’d gotten passionate about it, gesturing wildly with his hands, eyes bright with interest. I’d kissed him mid-rant just to shut him up, but he’d still ranted and raved against my mouth. He was so fucking stubborn.
I’d forced him out of the apartment twice.
Once to the park down the street where we’d sat on a bench and he’d bitched about the sunlight while I fed him pieces of a sandwich.
The second time to that Thai place I’d gotten takeout from; the curry was actually worth eating hot and fresh, and it was only afterwards that Jude realized that was our first official date.
The way he’d apologized in the car made his obliviousness worth it.
Watching his interactions with the world outside his apartment was something else. He smiled more. Laughed easier. His sharp edges softened when it was just us, but that addictive spark of defiance was always just there, simmering below the surface.
Like now, when he was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and looking annoyed at me. Even that was adorable.
Yeah. I was in deep.
“Just do what you’re told, Jude.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Nope.” I grabbed his shirt next, then his vest and the tangle of shoulder, waist, and thigh holsters that I loved seeing him in. “But you’re gonna put these on, anyway.”
“Ash.” His voice went flat. I knew him well enough to know it as the tone he used when he was two seconds from losing his patience. “What the hell is going on?”
Riley appeared in the doorway, phone in hand. “We gotta leave in fifteen.”
“Why?” Jude looked at her, hoping for an explanation. When none came, he glared back at me. “What’s going on?”
“Less questions and more doing what you’re told.” I shoved the shirt into his hands. “Get dressed, or I’ll dress you myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little bit.” I grinned, then I slapped his ass just because I could. “Come on. We don’t have all night.”
***
Ten minutes later, I had him in the passenger seat of Riley’s car.
He was still firing off questions neither of us would answer when I waved at him through the window.
I didn’t envy Riley’s part in all this. I got to close the door on his tirades and escape to my own car while she was stuck with him.
And for longer than Jude realized. I needed to get to work before them, but there was no way anyone but me could have gotten Jude out the door, so I’d asked Riley to bide her time.
Take a wrong turn or two, maybe head into a drive-thru with a line that was too long to justify the carbs.
Even though she loved Jude, I was going to owe her big for this.
I pulled into the Ridgeway lot and killed the engine before the car had fully stopped rolling. The door slammed behind me as I sprinted toward the employee entrance, heart pounding. Not from exertion. From nerves.
This had to work.
Jonas was leaning against the wall outside our prep area, an electronic vape in hand. I could smell the watermelon flavor from here.
“All set?”
“Yeah, man. Riley’s gonna text when she’s ten out.” He jerked his head toward the staff room. “Everyone’s ready.”
“Good.”
I ducked into the changing room, where Simon was already half dressed in his Hunter gear. He glanced up, grinning.
“You look like you’re about to puke, Ash.”
“Shut up.” I grabbed my costume from the locker and started stripping. There was no time for modesty. “Everything in position?”
“Relax. It’s done.” Simon adjusted the buckles across his chest, the ones that mimicked Jude’s design but never quite sat the same way. “Parker knows. The social media team knows. Half the park probably knows by now.”
I yanked my shirt over my head. “If this goes sideways, I just....”
“It won’t.” He leaned against the counter, watching me with that insufferable knowing look. “Everything’s sorted for your boyfriend to make heart eyes at you.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Right. You just spend every night at his place doing totally platonic physical therapy.”
I flipped him off.
Honestly, half the crew had worked it out by now. I’d told Jude about the speculation a few days back when I’d heard Jonas telling someone to ‘check with Jude’s keeper’ while pointing at me. Jude had shrugged it off with that distant look he got sometimes, like none of it mattered.
I’d tried to feel relieved that he hadn’t freaked out entirely, but instead it just broke my heart to see how far he’d withdrawn from the team that loved him. For all our quiet couple-time—and mind-breakingly good sex—Jude still viewed his ankle like it was a death sentence.
It was one of the many reasons that tonight had to work.
I pulled on my tactical pants and the straps and holsters that made us Hunters look dangerous. My fingers moved automatically now. In one week with Simon and I’d learned to get dressed faster than I ever had with Jude watching.
That wasn’t a fair comparison, though. With Simon, I was always the one running late, and Simon never looked at me the way Jude did. I’d challenge anyone to achieve anything with Jude staring daggers into their backs.
I sat down in front of the mirror and opened the face paint. White first, then black, and the skull took shape in smooth strokes and contoured curls. I’d done this enough times that muscle memory carried me through while my brain spun out of control.
“You know Amanda wants to do a double-date thing, right?” Simon said behind me.
I paused, brush halfway to my cheekbone. “What?”
“Amanda. My girlfriend.” He said it the way he always did, like the word itself was magic. “She’s dying to meet Jude. Wants to know if he’s keen on pottery and wine.”
Jude? Doing pottery and sip? Sure, weirder things had happened, but hell also hadn’t frozen over, so the outlook was doubtful.
I shot him a look in the mirror that said a million words. He just laughed.
The thing about Simon was that he made it look effortless. Being in love. Being happy. He and Amanda had a rhythm, a groove, where they just fit. No games. No fighting for control. Just them, together, easy as breathing, and they wanted the whole world to know.
I wanted that so badly it ached.
I wanted to be allowed to look at Jude the way Simon looked at Amanda and not worry that he’d hate it. I wanted Jude to look back and not flinch away from what he saw.
It was early days, I reminded myself. We’d barely started, and unlike in the movies, people didn’t tend to fall madly in love in just a week.
They got to know each other and built foundations first, and while I was too chickenshit to say it to Jude, I was positive our foundations were already strong enough to support the world.
Jonas stuck his head in. “Riley just texted. Five minutes.”
My stomach dropped. “Shit.”
Simon clapped me on the shoulder. “Go. I’ll clean up your mess.”
I bolted.
The staffroom was already full when I got there, with other performers drifting in. It was a chaotic, noisy mess.
But then Riley appeared at the door with Jude leaning on her, crutches under his arms, and everything stopped.
The room erupted.
People crowded in, calling his name, touching his shoulder, his arm. Welcome back, and we missed you, and holy shit, man, that ankle. Jude’s face went through about six different emotions in three seconds, landing somewhere between overwhelmed and genuinely moved.
I hung back. Watched him soak it in, the way his jaw worked, the way his eyes went bright. He’d been trapped in that apartment for days, cut off from the thing he loved most. From these people and this place.
Jude might not ever admit it, but he needed this. He needed to remember he belonged here, even if it was only for a few insane weeks a year, and no silly little ankle injury could rob him of that.
Eventually, Riley caught my eye over the crowd and raised an eyebrow. I nodded and started pushing my way through until I got my hand on Jude’s lower back. He turned, startled.
“Come on.” I guided him forward, letting him lean on me as the crowd parted around us.
“Ash, I really don’t understand what—”
“Chair. Mirror. Face paint. Now.” I guided him toward the makeup station, ignoring his confusion. “You’re putting your scary face on.”
“But, my ankle—”
I leaned in close, voice dropping to a growl only he could hear. “Do what you’re told, or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out there in front of everyone. And you know I’ll do it.”
His breath caught, and a dark, hungry need flickered in his eyes.
“Understood, Jude?”
“Yes, Ash.”
I tried not to smirk too hard or let those two little words go to my always-eager dick.
“Once your face is done, you do exactly what Riley says. No arguments. No questions.”
“And if I don’t?”
I smiled, watching his throat work as he swallowed.
“Then I come back here and make good on my threat.”
“Fine.” His voice had gone rough. “I’ll behave.”
“Good boy.”
Those two little words came so naturally that I couldn’t have stopped them even if I’d tried.
Jude’s pupils dilated. His lips parted, and for one glorious second, I watched him forget how to breathe.
Fuck. That reaction did things to me. Made heat pool low in my gut, made my fingers ache to grab him by the throat right here in front of everyone.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then snapped away. Red crept up his neck beneath the collar of his shirt.
I stepped back before I did something stupid.
“Paint. Now.”
He sank into the chair without another word.
I straightened and headed for the door.
Time to go to work.