He hands me my purse and the grocery tote with the leftover cans of whipped cream and a few paper plates.
“No pie?” I ask.
“You’re hilarious. I ate everything that was left after I swept the dining room, and I’m still hungry.” He opens the door as we do a final scan of the room.
His lanyard with keys hangs from his pocket. I pat my bag to be sure I feel my wallet and phone. We’re good.
“You swept the dining room? That’s hot. I’m sorry I missed it.” My mouth is no longer connected to my brain. I just say things now.
“You were MIA with Sam, so I figured you made your choice,” he says, feigning jealousy.
“He was chatty tonight. Sentimental too. He hugged me like three times and told me he loved me. So many feelings, all out there, all the time. You gotta love him. He leaves you no choice.”
“What did you talk about?” He’s nonchalant but obviously curious.
“I told him where we were today, and he told me about when you were kids. He said you were his hero. Almost made me cry.”
“He’s such a pain but so ridiculously good at everything. I had to bust it to stay ahead of him, and I’m almost seven years older. He was always hopped up on soda and Skittles, messing with all the instruments and taking things apart. Aunt Judy had to keep him busy, or he would’ve destroyed all the equipment.” His face is animated with memories. “And she’d never admit it, but Jace is her favorite.”
“Well, he’s a suck-up.” I state the obvious. “He had to be someone’s favorite. I bet he practiced obsessively and took it very seriously for a kid.” I love hearing their childhood stories, but I didn’t know exactly how they all connected before tonight.
“Yeah, but he only played piano—never picked up a guitar until high school. He pushed himself to catch up to our level. We’d learn a song, and when we got cocky about it, Aunt J would make us switch instruments to challenge us. We thrived on competition. Especially Jace.”
“No kidding.” I laugh.
“I’m decent because I grew up around music. Sam’s kind of a prodigy. The squirrel brain works in his favor. Jace, though, he just works his butt off for everything.”
“Decent.” I huff a laugh. “Yeah, you’re decent.”
It’s a perfect night to walk—clear and warm but not sweltering. The ambient sound of crickets and frogs against the backdrop of night stars does nothing to firm up my rapidly softening heart.
DC takes the tote I’m carrying and slings it over his opposite shoulder so there’s nothing between us when he reaches for my hand, already nudging me closer to the grass as a few cars pass by.
It’s a protective mode that some guys have, right? None that I’ve dated, but I’ve seen it. I wouldn’t read into it, but everyone’s put in their two cents today, and now I’m questioning everything. Should I put some distance between us?
Nah, lean in and call him Jude.
Shut. Up.
Oh, my word.
My inner voices are unhinged tonight, and the fact that I have more than one should be alarming.
Jude breaks the silence before I overthink it any further. “My schedule will be a little crazy for the next couple of weeks, but we’re going to do ‘Home Sweet Home’ next time. I’ll teach you the rest.”
“Yessss, please. I have my last summer class, and I work at stupid Pop’s the rest of the week, but I want to learn it.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks again for taking care of my car.”
“I was just sick of driving you around,” he teases. “You’re soneedy.”
“Hey!” I stop walking, jerking him to a stop, and open my mouth to tell him I can take care of myself. I have most of my life.
But I’m met with a wicked grin and eyes full of mischief. I can almost see scenes from the day winding through the swirls of moss and molasses. Like the hallway where I taunted him, or sitting in his freaking lap, and at Aunt Judy’s house with sweatyhair dripping onto the most perfect chest … a chest that I hadn’t allowed myself to think about before that moment.
The words inked down his side.
I need to know what those words say.
Nope. Not tonight.
