Home > Black Ice(77)

Black Ice(77)
Author: Becca Fitzpatrick

What happened next was one of those long, endlessly long moments where time really does seem to slow. Caz and I were running down the beach, and she made some comment about the hot guy strolling our way, and she lifted the brim of her sunhat to fully appreciate his shirtless physique. My feet came to a stop. My brain switched off and I could only stare. In some distant place in my mind, I must have recognized him. I was staring at him after all. But I wasn't thinking anything. I was too shocked to have a single thought. He must have been feeling the same way, because he came up short in the sand. His eyes were taking me in, but the expression on his face was as surprised as it was disbelieving.

Jude's skin was damp and bronze, the tip of his nose starting to sunburn. His hair hung longer than before, and he slicked it back out of his brown eyes. He had one hand slung loosely in his pocket. There was something carefree and weightless in his posture, and it completely transformed him. Gone was the rugged mountain man with shoulders hunched against the cold, and raw, chafed hands. The guy standing before me was as relaxed and inviting as a well-worn pair of jeans.

His face warmed with a smile. "For a minute there, you had me stumped. A friend with an Australian accent-nice red herring."

I couldn't even answer. I stood there, trembling.

"Sorry I missed your call-I was in the water,” he went on, walking toward me, and the smile on his face faltered, his eyes growing serious. Gone was the Jude who masked every feeling. I watched the play of emotion on his face as his eyes drank me in. It made my breath catch. He still felt something for me. It was written unmistakably on his face.

It was all I needed to know. My restraint left me. I ran and threw myself at him, jumping into his arms, wrapping my legs tightly around his hips, burying my face in his neck.

I kissed him. It happened so quickly and easily; the months apart compressed into days, minutes, seconds, a mere heartbeat. I brushed my lips over his mouth, his cheekbones, every inch of his strong, beautifully carved face.

"I can't believe it's really you." He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed my cheek gently. "You look amazing."

I laughed. "A shower will do that. And food and sleep."

"Think I'll mosey along the beach and find my own abalone,” Caz said, hitching her thumb up the coast and backing away with a goofy, delighted grin on her face.

"Caz, wait! This is Jude." I tugged him over by the hand. "Jude, meet my best friend, Caz."

"A pleasure to meet you,” Jude said, shaking her hand formally. The gesture seemed to win over Caz, who beamed approvingly at him.

She stage-whispered to me, "If you don't want 'im, I'll take 'im.”

”Can I buy you both dinner?" Jude smiled wider, pouring on the charm. "I know a great place, Cafe Beaujolais, not far from here. You can't come all this way and not try it. I won't take no for an answer. You're in my territory now, and it's my duty to wow you."

"Isn't that thoughtful of you,” Caz said. "I already ate, but I know Britt skipped lunch and is surely starving."

She was so full of it, I nearly giggled. I had stuffed myself on lobster in Monterey and she knew it.

"Juanita and I will head over to the shack and check in. we'll see you . . . when we see you." She winked at me.

"You're staying nearby?" Jude asked me, his face lighting up. "Beach rental. I threw darts at the map, and wouldn't you know, Van Damme was feeling lucky."

Jude's mouth curved into an astute smile. "I love a lucky coincidence."

Jude was right. Cafe Beaujolais was incredible. we sat outside on the patio and ate escargot, which Jude said would have to tide me over until he could catch me abalone. The sky was a deep, satiny purple, not quite black, and the stars were out. The air smelled lush and sweet. I'd kicked off my flip-flops and had my feet propped on Jude's legs under the table. He'd put on a white linen shirt for dinner, and was stroking my leg affectionately. "Five stars,” I said. "I think that's the best food I've ever had." Jude smiled. There was a light in his brown eyes that I'd never seen before, not in the mountains. It was as if the hardened veneer had fallen away and I was seeing the real Jude. He was casual, genuine, open. He had a good heart. He was a good man.

"I've got a few other places I'd like to take you. Give you the local tour."

"I'm in."

He reached across the table and laced his fingers in mine. "You have beautiful hands. I never got to see them before. You were always wearing gloves."

"I threw away everything I wore on that trip. Gloves, jeans, even my boots. Four straight days of wearing the same thing was enough for me."

"I threw away most of my things too. I kept my hat, though. You wore it, and I wanted one thing to remember you by. I'm a sentimental sap, I know."

"No." I felt suddenly shy. "It's . . . sweet."

Jude's brown eyes turned expressive and honest. "I came to Van Damme almost every weekend since I last saw you. It was a long shot, but I hoped you'd remember the spot. I'd come and sit on the rocks and look for you on the beach. Sometimes I'd walk the shore and see you out of the corner of my eye. I'd turn quickly, but every time it was a trick of the light." His voice thickened. "I came back, again and again, hoping this time it would really be you. And then, today, when I saw you, and it really was you, I realized you were looking for me too.

Because those four days in the mountains, they changed us. I gave you a piece of me. And you must have given me a piece of yourself, too, because you wouldn't have come here otherwise. You would have let go. I can't let go of you, Britt. And I don't want you to let go of me."

My eyes filled. "I came all this way to find you. Those four days weren't enough. I wanted to be with you like this. On a warm, lazy night. At a restaurant. Walking on the beach talking about stupid, meaningless things."

"I have a brilliant idea. Let's take a walk on the beach and talk about stupid, meaningless things."

I giggled. "You read my mind."

"See? I'm the perfect guy. You don't have to tell me what you want."He tapped his head. "I'm a male mind-reader. That's one in a million. A B-list superpower at the very least."

"Stop it. You're going to make me snort my drink."

He tapped his head again. "I already knew that."

I sighed happily. "This is the best night, Jude. Thank you."

"I make you snort your drink, and it's the best night of your life. You're easy to please."

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