He looked over at Tom then back at me a few times, almost as if there was an angel whispering in one ear and a devil in the other.
Jude was a good bloke. His parents were two of the loveliest people I’d met and he’d been brought up to help others.
“Will you yell at me if we get a McDonald’s on the way?” He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes.
I sighed, completely putting it on. One McDonald’s wouldn’t hurt someone like Jude Whittingham. He’d probably burned two-thousand calories from working that dimple so much tonight, let alone what he’d run off on the field. “Fine. It’s a deal.”
He whooped like I’d just agreed to marry him.
Five minutes later I had my coat and we were walking outside into the Manchester cold.
“C’mere.” A big arm wrapped around my shoulders. “You’re shivering.”
“Because it’s freezing.” It really was. There was no sign of anything resembling spring yet.
His laugh vibrated through me, making me feel warm inside. Maybe a little tingly. Jude was good-looking, and he was kind, if a little dozy sometimes.
I relaxed into his arm a little, keeping my head down in case anyone noticed him and snapped a pic. My job wasn’t one that needed to have me appear in the media at all, and other than the odd interview for food or health magazines, I stayed well away from it.
“Where are you parked?” I had no idea where we were walking.
“Just near the station. It’s easy to get out of the city centre.” Jude directed me down a side street, one I was surprised he knew.
He laughed. “I know where I’m going. My gran worked for the post office that used to be in the city centre. She used to babysit me and take me into town and she showed me all the ways to avoid people. She was great.”
“Was?” I didn’t want to ask the question outright.
“She died when I was fifteen. I still miss her.”
Another side street, one I had no idea existed.
“I miss my dad.” For some reason the feeling hit me hard. “And it’s been twenty years.”
Jude looked at me. “I didn’t know you didn’t have your dad around.”
“I don’t really talk about it. He died when I was twelve after having a really big stroke. He hung on for a few days after it, but he – well, he didn’t get better.”
Jude’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “You know, I bet he’s really proud of you. You’ve done amazing.”
It was the sweetest thing he could’ve said.
“I hope so. I bet your gran’s pretty pleased with you, too.” I wrapped my arm around his waist, wanting to be nice back.
This felt far too cosy, which was a good distraction from thinking of my dad. I’d take that right now.
“I hope she would be. She wouldn’t have been thrilled if I’d gone to a strip club.” He dropped his head, looking at the ground. “She’d have tanned my arse.”
I laughed, seeing Jude’s car, a black BMW that looked far too grown up for him. “Is that new?”
“Is what new? My tanned arse? Nah, she bollocked me on the regular. I was always doing something I shouldn’t.” He grinned again, pulling at the door handle so the car unlocked.
“Your car, idiot.”
He grinned again. “Yeah, she was delivered last week. Replaced the Porsche.”
“You’re not collecting them? Not trying to do a Jesse?” Jesse had a fleet of fancy cars.
“I just have this and the SUV. That’s enough. I can only drive one at once.”
