Page 110

“It’s a bar, Jude,” Clinton says. “People like a bowl of nuts with their drinks.”
“Okay, we need to get rid of them.”
“Jude,” I whisper, exasperated. “The nuts are fine where they are.”
“What happens if you eat nuts?”
“I don’t eat nuts,” I point out. “Because I’m allergic.”
“What if Clinton touched one and then handled the glass you’re drinking from?”
I drop my gaze to the glass. “Have you touched any nuts today, Clinton?”
“Only my own, but I washed my hands.”
I burst out laughing, placing the glass back down.
“This isn’t fucking funny,” Jude snaps.
“Will you chill out?” I chuckle, patting his knee. “I’ve survived thirty years managing my allergy. I’m still here.” What on earth has gotten into him? I pick up the glass and take a sip, widening my eyes over the rim, humming. “Oh, that’s good.”
Jude pouts. “I can’t believe how laid-back you are about it.”
“I can’t believe how uptightyouare.” I hand the glass over. “Try it.”
He curls a lip playfully and accepts, nodding his approval. “Very good.”
“Like sweet and salty.”
“And no nuts,” Clinton adds, slamming the lid on his mixer and shaking it vigorously. “Is it a yes?”
“It’s a yes from me,” I chirp. “What’s next? I like this game.” But I will have to mind my pace or I’ll be pissed out of my mind before we make it to lunchtime and useless for our girls’ night out tonight.
I peek at Jude, feeling him looking at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” He reaches for my knee and squeezes over my trousers. “You dirty stop-out.” His eyes fall down my clothes from last night.
“I’m a dirty stop-out becauseyoudemanded I stay the night.”
“You’re staying tonight too.”
I shake my head. “I have plans with the girls.”
“Oh,” he grunts, disappointed, but his disappointment soon disappears when he glances past me, and of course, I look to see what’s caught his eye and distracted him from the fact I’m not staying tonight.
Katherine.
She glances between us and lifts her chin, heading to a table in the window and lowering to the chair, facing this way. What is she doing? I return my body forward, my eyes on the wooden bar, feeling her glare burning into my back. Jude’s hand is suddenly in mine, his stool moving closer.
“Next up,” he says, pointing to the martini glass Clinton’s put down.
“What is she doing?” I ask, the atmosphere shifting from easy to extremelyuneasy.
“Ignore her.” He picks up the glass. “Drink.”
I try to ignore her. I try so hard, sipping the cocktail. “Nice,” I say, forcing a smile and passing Jude the glass.
He doesn’t take it, but instead leans in, getting his face close to mine. I look into his eyes as he licks from one side of my mouth to the other. “Delicious,” he whispers, and all my woes are forgotten. There is only him.