Chapter Two #2
He raised a single eyebrow. “You’re pretty damn proper for a waitress.”
Of course he knew she was a waitress. Gossip seemed to be the only thing Callaway Rock and Boston had in common.
It wasn’t something she was ashamed of. She had a job, which was more than many people could say.
She glanced at his beer, but it wasn’t a brand she recognized. “I don’t suppose you have another one?”
Jude threw back his head and laughed, the sound deep and cruel. “Go home, honey. You couldn’t handle me on your best day.”
She took a step back, about to argue that she wasn’t trying to handle anything, but her courage failed her. Why did I think this was a good idea? She pressed her lips together, hating that her eyes burned at his rejection. Keira wouldn’t cry over some man who probably isn’t worth her time .
Carrigan wouldn’t have been rejected in the first place .
She spun on her heel and hurried back to her home, vowing that her explorations into this new life were strictly to exclude flirting from here on out. She’d gone this long without sex or a relationship. She could just keep on going for another twenty-four years.
***
Jude felt like a piece of shit as he watched Sloan scurry back to the O’Connor place.
He took a swig of his beer, hating the guilt that rose when he pictured the hurt and humiliation on her face.
He’d been doing her a fucking favor, not that she needed to know that.
She might be a part of this because of her connection to Sorcha, but that didn’t mean she had to be caught in the crossfire.
Must have taken some pep talk to get her ass over here to begin with .
And he’d shot her down in two seconds flat.
He drained the rest of his beer. What the hell was he supposed to do?
Apologize? He might like her tight little body and soulful eyes, but that just meant he’d be down to rock her world for a few hours.
Call him crazy, but Sloan didn’t strike him as a woman who was down for a dark and dirty fuck.
She was too sweet for that sort of thing.
Jude didn’t do sweet.
But…
He set his bottle down and turned to consider the O’Connor place.
If he went over and shared a beer with her, it didn’t have to mean a damn thing.
If she was living there, it was possible she knew where Sorcha was, or at least when the old woman would be back.
He could be charming when it suited him.
Maybe.
Reconnaissance. That’s all it was.
You’re a goddamn liar .
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called it .
He ducked back into his place and grabbed two beers from the fridge. Ten minutes, thirty tops. He’d be in, get the information he needed, and get out. Then he could go back to researching and planning out his next step.
She answered the back door, her big dark eyes surprisingly shiny, which only served to make him feel more like an asshole. Jude held up the two beers. “I was out of line. Sorry.”
She blinked. “I don’t know if I want the beer now.”
Well, hell, he didn’t exactly blame her. But since he’d made the effort to come over here, he wasn’t about to leave without accomplishing what he’d set out to do. Jude tried for a smile. “It’s better than the shit they sell at the general store down here.”
Her eyebrows slanted down, making him think of a disapproving kindergarten teacher. “That’s rude. From my experience, beer isn’t all that wonderful, regardless of its brand. You don’t have to be a snob about it.”
It never failed. Even when he was doing his damnedest to be charming and meld into the world around him, he invariably said something to set himself apart.
He doubted Sloan had that problem. She fit right in with the people of Callaway Rock, sliding into the rhythm of life in this place without missing a step.
He didn’t really understand what that was like.
He could fake it for a time, but the truth always outed.
And the truth was that Jude didn’t fit in anywhere.
He held up the beer. “Do you want it or not?”
Her shoulders slumped, but she made a visible effort to pull herself together. “Yes.”
He could do better than this. He had to.
Jude sank onto the wicker chair on the porch across from where she stood and popped the cap off his beer.
She really was a petite little thing. He had the strangest urge to sit her down in front of a pile of food and make sure she ate.
Jude shook his head and waited for her to take the other chair.
They were delicate to the extreme, and he felt like an idiot perching there, half-sure it would break under his weight and send him sprawling on his ass.
But he was trying to be less threatening, so he didn’t surge to his feet like he wanted to.
Sloan took a tiny sip of her beer and made a face. “This is…good.”
“Not much of a beer drinker then, even with all your experience ?”
“Not much of a drinker at all.” She took another sip, and he almost laughed. “If this is what the so-called good stuff is like, I don’t think I’m going to start.”
How old was this girl? He put aside his weird impulses, which seemed to pop up whenever he was around her, and surveyed her with a critical eye. Too thin, too much history, but she had a world-weary look in her brown eyes that only came with some years in the rearview. She’d seen things.
Still, he wasn’t a man to leave things to chance. “Are you even old enough to drink?”
She glared, giving the first indication that there might be a backbone in there. “I’m twenty-four.”
A baby.
Not that he was ancient. But thirty-five was a whole hell of a lot of living—and hard living—in comparison. He took a drink of his beer. “So you didn’t have much of a twenty-one run.”
“My older sister tried.” She took a hasty sip of beer and set the bottle down. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you for the beer.”
He leaned back, carefully stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. Going home was the right thing to do. He’d repaired whatever blow he’d delivered to her ego. Staying around was just asking for trouble.
Jude opened his mouth to say good-bye, but that wasn’t what came out. “You have any vodka in this place?”
“What?”
“Vodka. The more expensive the better. I have some in my house, but you’re a smart girl and that means taking drinks from strange men is something you don’t do.”
She blinked. “I would think inviting strange men into my house is also something smart girls don’t do.”
Not unless they’re looking for trouble . He kept the words restrained, but only barely. Fuck, what was it about this woman that tried his control so thoroughly? He didn’t know, and that made her dangerous in a way he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t afford distractions right now.
I could ask her about Sorcha .
But if he did, he’d spook her, and she might tip off Sorcha before the woman finally flitted back into town. So he affected a neutral expression. “What do you say?”
She seemed torn, but finally nodded more to herself than to him and stood. “I saw some liquor, but I didn’t investigate to see what kind of bottles they were.”
He had when he’d been snooping around, so Jude knew there were three bottles of Belvedere stashed in one of the cupboards. He noted the tense set of her shoulders as he followed her into the house, and fell back another step so he didn’t loom over her. It didn’t seem to help.
Sloan pulled out one of the bottles and held it up. “Vodka.”
“Good.” He decided waiting for her to take the lead just wasn’t going to happen, so Jude nudged her to the side and went through the cupboards like it was his first time here, coming up with two tumblers, a carton of cranberry juice, and one of those little lime-juice things.
He caught her staring and shrugged. “Just sit down and I’ll make you a drink that you don’t have to choke down. ”
“I don’t…” She looked away and then back. “Why?”
“Why what?” He dropped a handful of ice into each glass and poured healthy dashes of vodka. He didn’t necessarily want her sloppy drunk, but the tight set of her shoulders could do with some loosening up.
Right. Because you’re such a fucking white knight.
He wasn’t. The longer he spent in her presence, the clearer it became he didn’t have any intention of leaving her alone. It had been a while since he’d had sex—too long if he was really considering taking this woman to bed.
But ever since the thought occurred to him last night, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He wanted her, and it was only some long-dead honor demanding he stay the hell away from her.
His honor had died with the rest of his family.
Any chance he’d had of resurrecting it had died with his first mark when he was twenty-one.
Jude finished the drinks off with the cranberry juice and a squirt of lime and then found a spoon to stir them. He slid one over. “Try it.”
She took a sip and gave him a cautious smile. “That is a bit better.”
He downed half of his drink in one swallow, not sure if he was searching for the drive to leave or to make a move on her. At this point, it could go either way.
Sloan took another drink, longer this time. Little circles of pink appeared high on her cheeks, giving her some much-needed color. She licked her lips, and he damn near groaned. “You never answered my question. Why are you doing this?”
Jude finished his drink. “I was a dick before for no reason. You caught me off guard. So I’m sorry.”
“You don’t like me.” She smoothed back her dark hair. “You haven’t since we met.”
“I thought you were breaking into my house. I got a little territorial.”
“A little?” Sloan shook her head and drank more. “I don’t think there’s a realm on earth where manhandling me on your front porch in the dark could be qualified as a little.”
He couldn’t very well tell her that he thought she might be one of his targets, wandered into his lair. Lair? Dramatic to the very end . Jude poured more vodka over his ice, not bothering with the juice this time.
She watched him drink it, her gaze lingering on his mouth. It wouldn’t take much. He could touch her in some innocent way, lower his voice so she’d lean close, cup the back of her neck and…
Fuck. Jude finished his drink and set it on the counter. “Thanks for the drink. We should do it again sometime.” And then he walked out before he could talk himself out of it.
Or into a whole different set of mistakes.