The rest of the drive is silent but for the music that streams though the speakers at a level just above the hum of the motor. I try to think of something to say. To break the ice. But instead, my mind keeps going back to him catching me in my daydream. Does he know how dirty it was? How aroused I am? God, I hope not, but by the cocky lift of his lips when I sneak a glance his way every few minutes, I can’t help but wonder. So much for comfortable silence. If my cheeks could catch fire, I’m sure they would.
Thankfully, the traffic is light with the later hour and it’s only ten torturous minutes before the GPS directs him into my neighborhood. “It’s the beige building up there after the stop sign. It’s easier if you pull into the second entrance.”
He nods, then his brow pinches as it comes into view. Judging. My building is underwhelming with its lack of design and paved parking lot in desperate need of a resurface. The neighborhood is a little rough. I’m sure he’s less than impressed. Though, with my car, I don’t know what he expects.
Jude certainly lives somewhere a lot nicer. Shit. It hits me that I actually have no clue where his place is. “I’m sorry, this is probably way out of your commute. I’m sorry.”
“Rachel.” His scowl grows as he turns into my complex, then pulls to the side to let the engine idle while he directs his full stare my way. “Please, for the love of all things holy, stop apologizing.”
“I’m—” Damn it. I almost apologize. It’s second nature, and I never thought about how often I must do it until now. My fingers clench around the strap of my seat belt with nervous energy. “I feel bad putting you out.”
“There’s two things you should know about me.” The lines on his forehead disappear with his expression and he lets loose a wry chuckle. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to; you have no reason to feel guilty. If I offer you a ride home, or to help with your car, it’s because I want to.”
“What’s the other thing?”
“I don’t apologize. Ever. And it drives me mad each time you say sorry for something I want to do.”
Fair enough. But now I feel bad about apologizing to him all day. I don’t say that, though. Something tells me it’d only bring back his scowl, and I much prefer Jude smiling. “I still don’t understand why you insist on being my Uber driver.” My teasing does the trick, and his grin fills me with more satisfaction than it should. I point to the end of the building. “My apartment is around that corner. One-twenty-seven.”
He gives me one last grin and steers the vehicle closer, finding an open spot along the way to idle in since the entire lot is full. At least any spaces within walking distance.
“You can drop me here.”
“I can park.”
I reach out to touch his arm. “Jude. Right here is good. Thank you.”
He looks as if he wants to argue, but nods. He shifts the SUV into park and hops out to meet me around the back at the lift gate. “Here you go.” He grabs my bags and hands them to me so I can arrange them on my travel dolly.
“Thanks.” I raise my hand to wave. “For dinner and everything.”
“What time do you need to be to the studio tomorrow?” He closes the back of his SUV with the touch of a button.
I tilt my head. “Nine. Why?”
“I’ll be here at seven.”
“Jude.”
“Rachel.” He drawls my name out in an almost comically long manner.
“I’m too tired to argue.” I sigh and shake my head, tugging on my cart of makeup. I hate that I’ll only be indebted to this man more, with no way to pay him back, and yet grateful all the same because I really do need the assistance.
He winks and lets loose another of his goose bump-inducing chuckles. “Never underestimate me. Not when it comes to getting what I want.” There he goes again with that cocky assurance. I hate it. Because I like it too. He turns and raises his hand, calling out loud enough I hear, “Night, Rachel. Get some rest, sweetheart.” His backside looks mighty fine walking away. So good that I almost forgive him for getting in the last word. Almost.
10
Jude
The next morning I wake early, shower, and dress for the day before heading over to Rachel’s apartment. Traffic’s a bit much, as usual, but I crank my tunes and enjoy the promise of my next conversation with Rachel. I don’t think it’s possible we can be in the same room without arguing, but there’s something about the challenge that works me up in the best kind of way.
I don’t love her neighborhood, and the complex doesn’t appear very safe. I passed several sketchy-looking men on the short walk from the parking lot to her apartment door. The thought of her having to make the same walk by herself gives me a sick feeling. I give the door a knock and wait until it opens.
“Oh, hello,” a gorgeous brunette, taller and thinner than the one I am here to collect says with an inviting smirk. “I’m Crystal. I don’t think you’re here for me but we should change that.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her forwardness. Normally, it’s something I would relish in, at the very least get her number and save it for another time, but for some strange reason the urge to do so isn’t there. “I’m here for Rachel.”
Her brow scrunches. “Who?”
I tilt my head, not liking her game. A sense of protectiveness comes over me. Is this woman Rachel’s friend? God, I hope not. Before I can open my mouth to answer her question, Rachel appears from the hallway.
It’s as if
