Page 27 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

“Nothing?” I look at the registration plate. “Jude, it’s a brand-new Jaguar F-Type!”

“Do you like it?” he asks, clicking the fob, making it flash and beep. He goes to the driver’s door and opens it, revealing crisp new black leather.

“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe, at a loss. “But I can’t accept this.”

His face falls, and I hate myself for it. “Why?”

“Because . . . because . . .”

“Because, because, because?”

“Because . . .”

“See, there’s no reason.” He directs me to the driver’s seat and helps me down. “Suits you.”

I stare at the wheel, smell the new interior. “Jude, I don’t not have a car because I can’t afford one,” I say, looking up at him leaning on the door. “I just don’t need one. I live in the city. I get the Tube or walk.”

“But now you have a boyfriend who lives in a different county, and I’m getting nagged by the transport manager for constantly reserving one of the cars for you.”

“But . . .” I look around me. “But . . .”

He crouches by the side of the car, taking my hand, and I pout at him, knowing I’m not going to convince him that I don’t need this car. “It’s just a car, Amelia. Besides, you can’t be a top financial planner and ride the Tube. Look at it as a belated birthday gift.”

I laugh, letting him guide my hands to the wheel. “The pen was enough.”

“Come on, you can take me for a spin.” He shuts my door and rounds the front, slipping his shades on and getting in the passenger seat. I watch him as he pulls his belt on, wondering how I got so lucky. “What?” he asks, faltering while fastening it.

I lean over and smother him with my mouth, and he lets me at him, his face bunched, his laugh light. “Thank you.”

“Shut up and start the engine.”

A flutter of excitement erupts in my tummy as I press the button to start the engine, the gorgeous thing purring to life.

“It’s an automatic, so you don’t have to worry about—”

“Gears?” I ask.

“I was going to say you don’t have to worry about your hand.”

“Oh. I haven’t driven for over a year.” Scanning the various panels, I familiarise myself with the controls and displays. “Ready?” I ask, slipping it into drive and pulling off, the engine humming beautifully. “Where am I going?”

“I want to take you somewhere. Turn left out of the gates.”

I do as I’m bid and follow Jude’s directions, my smile unstoppable.

“Like riding a bike, huh?” He reaches into my bag. “Where’s your phone? I’ll hook it up to Bluetooth.”

“The inside pocket.” I slow at the barrier before the gates, waiting for Nelson to raise it.

“I’m just going to ignore that text notification from your ex asking why you’ve not called him.”

I feel my cheeks burning with guilt. Fuck.

“He was at the restaurant last night,” I blurt, releasing the wheel and throwing my hands up.

“When you were in the bathroom cooling off after Charley went at you. I saw him and he came over and I panicked because I didn’t want him finding out about you by actually bumping into you and I was worried because you can’t seem to control your temper when it comes to me and other men, and so I told Nick I’d call him to get rid of him before you came out of the bathroom.

” I take a breath. “Obviously I had no intention of calling him, so now he’s asking why I haven’t, and I don’t know what to say. ”

“Fucking hell, Amelia, breathe.”

I flop in my seat, exhausted. “Don’t be mad with me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He takes my hands and places them on the wheel. “Drive.” Then he goes to the dashboard and starts navigating the menu. “Wait.” Taking my thumb, he holds it to the pad on my phone to open it. “Now you can drive.”

I stare at him, stunned. That’s it?

Peeking out the corner of his eye at me, he smiles. “Drive, Amelia.”

“Right, yes. Drive.” Getting back to the wheel, I pull through the barrier and do a left at the gates as instructed, accelerating smoothly.

“Done.” Jude slips my phone back into my bag and gets comfortable.

It’s a stunning drive, the narrow country roads winding and dipping.

Each time Jude tells me we’re on a straight for a while, I open her up, my smile breaking my face as Jude laughs at my excitement.

He looks so casual with his elbow propped by the window, his trouser-clad legs extended.

Relaxed. Content. No anger anywhere in sight.

“Slow down,” he says, as I approach a curve in the road. “It’s tight on this corner, and you can’t see any oncoming traffic.”

I ease off the accelerator, braking into the turn, and speed up again when Jude gives me the green light. He knows every bend and turn, how sharp or smooth they are. How many times has he driven this road?

“Left just past there,” he says, pointing to a red pillar post box. “And go slow, it’s a gravel road.” He looks across at me. “We don’t want to chip your new favourite thing.”

“You’re my favourite thing,” I say, turning and wincing the second I hear a stone flick up and hit the paintwork. “Shit.”

“Slow down.” He laughs, placing his hand on my knee.

As a result, I push my back into the leather of my seat, clearing my throat, trying to concentrate. “Thank you for waiting until I’ve slowed down to do that.” I glance at him, smiling out the corner of my mouth.

“Oh, does it affect your driving?” His hand starts to drift under my dress.

“Jude,” I breathe, tingles chasing up my leg with his hand.

“Sorry.” He releases me and slips his hands under his thighs, restraining himself, and I laugh again, loving the cheeky, easy smirk he flashes me. Today is a fine day.

“Where are we?” I ask, spotting a church up ahead.

“You’ll see. Pull up over there.” He points to a huge cedar tree outside the church gates, so I roll around the gravel path and gently brake, leaning forward to see the beautiful, ancient structure.

“Pretty,” I muse, letting myself out and taking in the countryside, breathing in the fresh air. Meadows bursting with wildflowers blanket the surrounding fields, the sun hazy past the clouds above.

Jude holds his hand out for me, then leads me towards the church, and I can tell by his small smile that he knows I’m bursting with curiosity.

He stops by the church doors, and I take in the old, cracked, heavy wood, waiting for him to clue me in as to why we’re here.

“I thought,” he says quietly, moving in, hunkering down to get his face level with mine, “I’d show you where I want to marry you. ”

I jerk so much, I practically fly out of his hold. “What?” I gasp, my mind running at a mile a minute. Married? But he just made this official. “Jude, I—”

He starts laughing hysterically, and if I wasn’t so relieved, I’d admire the outrageously gorgeous sight.

“That’s not funny,” I mutter, slapping his bicep.

“Noted.” He chuckles, grabbing my hand and pulling me on. “No marriage.”

I scowl at his high eyebrows as I let him lead me, my thrumming heart piping down. “I’m hardly wearing the shoes for this,” I say, looking down at my heels as I tiptoe across the long grass, trying to stop my stilettos from sinking in.

Jude says nothing, just smiles down at my feet as he pushes his way through a gate. A sea of headstones come into view. “Oh,” I breathe, realizing where we are.

Bringing us to a stop before a beautiful marble gravestone, he smiles across at me. “My mum and dad.”

Everything in me deflates, my heart becoming heavy. This is big. So big.

Kent & Evelyn

It Was True Love.

“It was true love,” I whisper. Oh God.

“It really was,” Jude says quietly, emotion ruling his tone too. Then he laughs under his breath and sniffs, clearing his throat. I look up at him, just catching the tail end of a rough sweep of the back of his hand across his eyes. My heavy heart cracks for him.

Stepping forward, he drops to one knee and faffs with the vase of flowers, eventually pulling them all out and resting them aside.

Tipping the water out, he rises and walks across to a water barrel under a beautiful stained-glass window and fills it with fresh rainwater, returning and putting the flowers back in.

“Peonies,” I say, joining him, helping to pull some wilting leaves off the stems.

“Mum’s favourite. Dad used to get them for her every Friday from April to June.” He cocks me a wry smile, rising and dusting off the top of the headstone. “And a bottle of Chablis.”

I smile, albeit sad, when I spot a bottle of wine set to the side with two glasses. I reach for them and blow some debris from the bottom, replacing them just so.

“Wait,” Jude says, taking the bottle and starting to pull the foil off from around the top. “Get the glasses.”

“What?”

He nods at them. “This bottle needs to be drunk. I’ll replace it.”

Jude reveals the bottle’s cork, then rummages through the grass and pulls out a corkscrew. “Ta-da,” he says quietly, getting to work.

Laughing, I get the glasses, watching him, wondering how many bottles he’s drunk while sitting here with his parents.

God damn you, Jude Harrison, you just keep giving me more reasons to love you.

He pours us each an inch while I hold out the glasses and puts the bottle back by the headstone.

Handing one over to him, I link an arm through his and rest my head on his upper arm, smiling when I see him lift his wine a little in toast to his mum and dad.

I follow his lead, giving my own silent thanks to them.

People I don’t even know, and yet feel like I do. Or, at least, his mother.

I take a breath and take the plunge. “You’ve never really talked about your dad.”

“It’s hard,” he says, after a few moments of silence, staring ahead at the gravestone, his jaw definitely pulsing a touch.

Naturally, I want to ask why, and inevitably, I think about the pills again.

And what Rhys said. I can see that anger now, just from mentioning his father.

“He died suddenly,” he goes on. “Heart attack.” Another clear of his throat.

“He suffered with angina, but it was controlled with medication. I found him.”