Page 54 of Mr. Perfect
“I wasn’t sure if I’d like it. I’d always heard the city was a little weird. I think she’s more eclectic than strange.”
Felix nodded. “Do you like the slower pace in a smaller market, or do you miss the hustle and bustle of a big city?”
Jude set his fork down. “The Felix Franklin I know doesn’t dance around a subject. Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?”
“If you really moved back to Savannah for me, why did you stay away so long?”
“I drove by your house three times my first night in town. I couldn’t work up the courage to pull into your driveway.” Jude took a deep breath. “I expected you to show up at the news station and try to run me out of town, but you didn’t.”
“I sure as hell thought about it,” Felix admitted. “Those fucking billboards infuriated me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you started investigating Earl Ison’s murder once I released the article? You hoped I would confront you about stealing my work?”
Jude nodded. “Every day I stayed away made it harder to explain why I hadn’t sought you out. I’ve never considered myself a coward, but you’re fucking scary, Ace.”
“I only bite a little,” Felix murmured.
“I knew I’d only have one shot to do it right, so I asked Jed to contact your editor for the Crime Prevention Month crossover. I’d heard about the other successful mergers and thought it made a perfect ice breaker.”
“Except the Rotary Club president usurped you by inviting us both to address the club.” Felix quirked a brow. “Or was that also your doing?”
Jude chuckled. “I was just as surprised as you were.”
“I hate surprises, but I guess not all of them are bad,” Felix admitted, although it pained him.
Jude’s cell phone rang, and he checked the caller ID. “Speak of the devil,” he said before answering it. “Hey, Jed. What’s up?” Jude straightened in his chair as he listened to his station manager. “Yeah, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He disconnected the call and set his phone down. “I have to go back to the news station. There was a train derailment at the port. Jed said there’s a large fire and potential chemical spill. He has a reporter heading out to the scene, but he wants me on set to do the breaking news alerts.”
They both rose at the same time. Jude retrieved his shirt from the floor and shrugged into it.
“You can’t go back to the station wearing that. What will people think?”
“I have extra shirts in my office,” Jude said.
“What about the people you encounter on the way to your office. You’re just going to parade through the building half-naked?”
Jude put his hands on Felix’s hips and drew him near. “Jealous?”
Felix refused to admit it. He stepped out of Jude’s arms and headed toward his bedroom. “You can borrow one of my shirts,” he called over his shoulder. “It might be a little small, but it will at least cover all the marks I left on your body.”
“Bummer,” Jude said.
Felix opened his T-shirt drawer and picked up the first one he saw. He returned it, then rifled through the folded shirts until he found the one he was looking for. It was old, faded from many years of use, and held a special meaning to both of them.
When he returned to the dining room, he caught Jude waggling his fingers at Pete. It looked more taunting than friendly.
“Your peacock is trying to call me out.”
Felix looked over in time to catch Pete peck the glass door again. “I think you’re right.” Felix handed the shirt to Jude and waited with his heart in his throat while he unfolded it.
Jude’s head snapped up after he recognized the faded crest from his private high school. “You kept it all these years?”
Felix nodded.
Jude ran his fingers over the thin, navy blue fabric. Jude’s smirk spread into a full smile, showcasing those adorable dimples. “Looks like someone has worn and washed it about a hundred times since they stole it from me.”
More like a thousand. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Jude’s laughter was muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head. It was about three sizes too small and clung to every inch of his muscled torso and his biceps.
“I’m not sure that’s any better,” Felix said.