“I mean, every guy it matches me up with is a complete mouth-breathing, crotch-scratching, parents’-basement-dwelling, unemployed, unmotivated, slack-ass hipster douchebag!” She wanders into the kitchen staring at her phone. “I’m deleting my account at this very—”
She looks up and freezes—mouth hanging open, hand in midair. I smile and wave. “Hey!” I reach for my jacket. “It’s good to see you again. I was actually on my way home.”
Dixie’s eyes move to Jude, who, thankfully, is on the other side of the island, so she doesn’t know he’s only wearing underwear, and then she shifts her stare back to me. “Don’t leave on my account. I’m just here to grab a dress Winnie forgot. She wants me to mail it back to her so she can wear it in Maine.”
“So Mom took my advice and they’re going to Maine?” Jude looks ecstatic.
Dixie nods, but she’s still got a startled, slightly skeptical look on her pretty features. “Yeah. Early next month. I assumed she told you. She said she was going to call you.”
“She might have. My phone is in my jeans.”
Dixie’s eyebrows lift. “And where are your jeans?” She starts to crane her neck to see over the island, and when she can’t, she starts to move closer to him.
Jude, as bold and shameless as ever, steps around the island. Luckily, his hard-on is no longer visible or else I swear I would have thrown myself off his balcony. Dixie frowns and turns to me. I start to babble. “He’s listing his place, and I’m his agent. We were going over paperwork.”
“Yes, well, that makes sense. You can’t enter into a legal contract in the state of California with your pants on.” Dixie rolls her eyes.
“Nothing happened,” I feel the need to tell her.
She smiles at me, and it’s this odd mix of sympathy and amusement. “I’m sure it wasn’t from lack of trying.”
“I’m going to grab my jeans and then drive you home,” Jude tells me and pads across the living room to his bedroom. “Dixie, feel free to get the dress, and then try not to let the door hit you on the way out.”
I watch them go and sigh as I try to smooth my hair, which must be crazy. I walk over and retrieve my hair clip, which fellto the floor after he pulled it out. Thank God for Dixie because I was about to let Jude do anything and everything he wanted to me. I was powerless, and I was enjoying it.
13
Jude
As we drive through the city to her place, Zoey stares out the window, and I mentally list all the ways I am going to murder my little sister for having the worst timing in the history of the world. If Dixie hadn’t interrupted, I think I would have finally been able to get this gorgeous woman naked and underneath me. Actually, I probably would have gone for naked and on the counter, but whatever. Same difference. But Dixie had to barge into my place the way she always does—unannounced and like she owns it.
Zoey looked relieved when Dixie walked in, but I know it’s not because she wanted to stop me. It’s because she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted to fuck her.
I turn onto her street and slow down, looking for a spot, because I intend to walk her to the door. There are a man and a woman on the sidewalk next to a car right in front of her place. Zoey leans forward when she sees them. I pull to a stop just a little behind them, hoping they’ll hop in the car and leave so I can snag their spot.
“What are you doing?” Zoey exclaims, clearly panicked. “That’s Adam! Don’t stop! Keep driving!”
“Your ex?” I ask, shocked. I stare at him again. Huh. Not much if you ask me. “Why is he with some woman this late at night? And why can’t I stop?”
“That’s just his assistant, Minerva. She must have been dropping off files or something. She does that,” Zoey mutters and leans closer. “She’s gained weight.”
My eyes finally move to the woman. She’s shorter than Zoey, with long, sleekjet-black hair. It’s dark out and she’s wearing a navy trench coat, but it’s not tied and the wind keeps blowing it back to reveal a pretty loose-fitting calf-length navy-and-white dress that does seem to be a little snug in her midsection. I turn off the car and hit the four-way flashers. Zoey stares at me, her hazel eyes about to pop out of her pretty head. “What the hell are you doing?”
I smile at the swear word. I love making her crazy enough to drop a cuss bomb. I open my door. “I’m walking you to your door.”
“Jude! Don’t!”
I ignore her, closing my door and walking around the car to open hers, since she clearly won’t do it herself. Adam is looking up now—right at me. The woman is still talking to him, like I’m not even there.
“You need to let go of the house if it means getting her out of your life so you can concentrate on what matters!” the woman is saying. “This matters now. Not her. Not the damn house. Get a new house. You have the money!”
I want to turn around and find out what the “this” is that she thinks matters so much, but I don’t want to make it obvious I’m eavesdropping. I can’t help but think that this isn’t a typical boss–assistant conversation. In fact, by the tone and the anger, these two have seen each other naked. I would bet money on it. I don’t know if Zoey knows that, and I certainly don’t want to be the one to tell her.
“Minnie, that’s not the point!” Adam barks back, frustrated.
I pull open Zoey’s door, and she glares at me, her face a frantic dance of anger and panic. I reach out. “Come on.”
She ignores my hand and gets out of the car. I can’t help but glance over my shoulder to catch Adam’s expression. He was checking out the car at first, his eyes sweeping over it from the hood to the trunk. Makes sense. Not a lot of Tesla Model X’s driving around. But then I see his eyes find Zoey, and I smile because he looks like he thinks he’s having some kind of bad acid trip. No, you’re not hallucinating, little buddy, it’s happening. Your ex is trading up.
