Any minute I’m going to hear an obnoxious alarm and wake up from this dream.
His laugh vibrates through his T-shirt. “This is fun. You’re like a blond Magic 8 Ball.” He’s warm and solid, and I can’t think of a single reason to leave this bed. “Will I get more kisses today?” I nod slowly to be sure my answer is clear. “Yesssss,” he whispers. “This one’s important. Ready?”
I’d play along all day to keep him here so I can listen to the low hum of his voice.
“Do you still love me?” I squeeze my arm tighter around him and nod. “I had to be sure nothing changed since 3a.m. when Idefinitelysaid it first.” He snatches my hand just before he gets pinched.
Jude drags his three-day beard across my palm before kissing the inside of my wrist. “If you don’t want to be kissed before you brush your teeth, consider this your two-minute warning.”
We got by on sandwiches and store-brand sodas and slept on a lumpy mattress with metal bars under our backs. The storm was loud enough to make us question the strength of the roof over our heads, but I couldn’t have asked for more.
Best. Night. Ever.
Too bad this isn’t a resort. I could get used to hiding in the woods, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. My win-loss record in life is less than stellar.
And I’ve never had so much to lose.
Outside the cabin, evidence of last night’s storm is everywhere. What isn’t under an inch of water is littered with soggy leaves, branches, and walnuts, so I watch my step and keep a tight grip on my emotional security human.
Jude nudges me as we reach his SUV. “You okay?”
“Perfect,” is the word that comes out of my mouth, but internally I dread our return to the real world. I’ll get less of him for the next six weeks than I’ve had for the last year.
He watches my face for a beat as he presses the unlock button. “Hang on. Let me put your backpack in the back of the truck.”
“Right. Yourtruck.” I smirk.
We rarely disagree, but this is one of our few points of contention. To me, this is an SUV. To him, anything that’s not a car is a truck. If this is our biggest fight, I’ll gladly let him win every time.
“Yes,truck, Punk. Come here. I’ll show you.”
I toss him a skeptical glance. I’m well acquainted with his 4Runner. Leather seats, tinted windows, roof rack, running boards, incredible sound, and matte-black emblems and wheels—this vehicle is its own main character. It’s a six-foot-four burnt marshmallow mountain man. It should have a beard, full sleeve of tattoos, and wear flannel. But it’s also soft and sweet on the inside, like someone else I know.
I might be a little bit in love with it.
Jude doesn’t worship it like some guys do, but it was his dad’s, and I know he loves it.
He opens my door and helps me climb in as usual but swivels my legs sideways, pulling me to him. The mischief in his eyesgives him away when he taps the tinted window behind him with his knuckle.
“See how the door is high enough to shield us from view?” He leans in and kisses me soundly.
Gripping his shirt with a grin, I pull him back for more kisses.
“So, it’s the height”—kiss—“that determines the difference”—kiss—“between an SUV and a truck?”—more kissing.
“Hmm?”he mumbles.“I don’t know. I just made it up so I could get the first truck kiss from my girl.”
He’s always playful, but dang. Am I allowed to be this happy? It feels like a setup.
“Truck kiss?” I repeat with my brows raised.
“Frommy girl. It’s a very Tennessee sort of moment. Let me enjoy it.”
“By all means. Happy to help.”
The drive back to Cookeville is deceptively uneventful—the calm before the storm. And it’s a good thing Jude can handle mystorms, because my sweet baby sister is worked up to a category five—hell-bent on trying him by fire.
Mom’s at work, Jamie’s at a friend’s house, and Layla won’t get anywhere near Liza when she’s like this.
