Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (24 page)

“And third—if something is wrong, if there’s something that’s going on that has trigged your inner asshole, it’s just you and me in here. Just Jude. Just Logan. You can talk to me instead of bitching at me.”

Her outburst is like a beacon, shedding light on what’s really bothering me—and the truth only irritates me even more.

The fact that I have to fire someone on Monday is bothersome, but it’s business. I’m a good business man, and I know what needs to be done in this situation. I’m not
emotionally
attached to this particular individual. Not to mention, he brought this upon himself. This problem all on its own is not the reason why I’m so short tempered today.

No, the reason why I’m so wound up is because I need a good fuck. Usually, that wouldn’t be a problem. Today, it is. Today, it’s a huge pain in my ass because the only woman I can think about is Teddy. And the worst part is—I know that even if I still planned on taking her out tonight—
which I don’t
—she wouldn’t let me fuck her, and yet that doesn’t seem to bother me or encourage me to seek out more willing company.

For reasons I
still
cannot explain, she’s wormed her way into my head and I can’t get her out. After last night, after seeing her kiss that blonde guy, I shouldn’t still want her. For seven goddamn days, I chose her—seven
days
. It took her less than that to change her mind about choosing me. And she wonders why I’m not after love.

“Judah?” Logan murmurs, pulling me from my thoughts.

I draw in a deep breath, needing it to calm down. Logan is right. My mood has nothing to do with her, and she doesn’t deserve my wrath. Rather, I should let her go and then call Diana to see if she’d like to meet me for an eight-thirty reservation. I scrub my hand down my face with a sigh before I look to the innocent victim across from me.

“I apologize. You are a decisive woman and I know this about you. I trust that you won’t change your mind about your commitment to your position here. That is all. You’re free to go.”

She stares at me for a moment and then let’s out an irritated huff before she stands to make her exit. “You need a woman, Judah. And Lord help her, whoever she is.”

I watch her leave, shaking my head as the door latches closed behind her.

I need a woman, all right—preferably naked and on her knees.

Judah never texted me back. I stayed up half the night waiting for him to reply, my restlessness all in vain. I read the message again now, trying to decide if my playfulness might have offended him in someway. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find anything wrong with it.

Me:
I’ve got this really sexy, grey t-shirt about your size. Maybe I’ll just wear that…

I groan, pressing my forehead against the top of my desk. Geoffrey insisted that I send it as my reply. Why I listened to a man two beers into the evening, I have no idea. Why Jude never messaged me back, I’m not quite sure. What I
do
know is that I haven’t heard a peep from him all day, which worries me.

“Hey,” Geoffrey murmurs, reaching over the back of my chair to rub my shoulders. “We’re getting ready to head out. Still nothing?”

I grunt my response, sitting up as I spin around to face him. Andy is standing to his left, eyeing me in concern. With a sigh, I stand, tossing my phone into my purse before hooking it over my arm. “He wouldn’t stand me up, right? I mean, it’s weird for him not to text me back—but he wouldn’t just blow me off. Right?”

“The way he’s been doggedly chasing after you? No way,” Geoff insists, folding his arms across his chest. “Maybe something came up—an emergency or some shit.”

“Yeah, maybe
bull
shit,” Andrew mutters. “If that dick stands you up, I’ll kick his ass.”

His comment makes me laugh. Not because I don’t appreciate his offer, but because it’s the second time he’s told me he’d confront Judah in the last two weeks. In any case, the smile he brought to my face feels good, even if it only lasts for a moment.

“I think you should enroll in karate or something,” I say with a smirk. “You and Steven could do it together—work out some of that aggression.”

He only smiles in response before nodding toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

I follow behind them, the knots in my stomach reminding me of my anxiety as I step out into summer’s warm, night air. According to last night’s short exchange, I should be expecting Judah to pick me up in just under an hour. I plan on heading straight home to change into the outfit I picked out last night—last night when I was too distracted to sleep.

It’s entirely possible that I’m worrying for nothing; that Geoff is right and something just came up, preventing Jude from getting back to me. He may not have responded to my attempt at flirting with him, but he hasn’t canceled our evening, either. I should just go home and get ready. He’s waited seven days for me—he told me that he wasn’t
asking
me on a date so much as
telling
me that we had one. He won’t stand me up. He wouldn’t.

At eight-thirty I start pacing. At nine, I pace
while
staring at my phone. At nine-fifteen, I take off my heels and curl up in my sitting room chair as I talk myself in and then out of calling him. At nine-thirty, I hit
dial
.

“That rat bastard,” Geoffrey answers after the first ring. “He stood you up?”

Hearing him say it out loud makes my heart hurt. I look up toward the ceiling, hoping it’ll keep my tears from spilling over onto my cheeks, and I draw in a shuddered breath. It’s all I can manage, afraid that if I try and speak, my humiliation will overwhelm me completely. I know if I start crying, I’ll sound like a pathetic, squeaky, little girl, and my pride wouldn’t survive that right now.

“Give me an hour, Freckles. I’m on my way.”

“Okay,” I whisper, a single tear racing toward my chin.

He hangs up and I turn off my phone, discarding it on my coffee table before I go to change my clothes. I wiggle into a pair of little, bright green, cotton shorts, tossing on a white, cotton camisole and a thin, yellow, CSU hoodie. I pull my hair back, piling it on top of my head, and then wash my face—scrubbing away any trace of date prep remaining. When I’m finished, I pull out my computer and bring up the photos I took from my hike with Geoff a couple weeks ago. I haven’t messed with them too much, and I need something to distract me for the next forty minutes.

When there’s a knock at my door, I’m quick to set aside my laptop before I hurry to answer. As soon as I see my favorite blonde, I feel both relieved and sad—relieved that he’s here without me even having to express how much I need him right now; sad because tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way, and I can’t for the life of me explain what happened.

“All right—wine, ice cream,
Thor
and
Captain America
,” he says, holding up the brown paper sack he’s got in his hand. “I didn’t know which Chris you’d prefer tonight.”

“Hemsworth,” I mumble without hesitation.

He nods and then takes a step toward me, opening up his arms. “Come ‘ere.” I shuffle my feet across the short distance that separates us and prop myself up against his chest. He holds me snuggly, resting his cheek on top of my head. “Did you try calling him?”

“No,” I whisper, my eyes welling up again.

“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t either.” He sighs, squeezing me tighter. “I’m sorry, Teddy. He’s an asshole.”

“I don’t think I want to talk about it,” I say with a sniff.

“All right.” He pulls away from me, then shuts us inside. “What’ll it be? Wine or ice cream?”

“Mmm…ice cream.”

“You got it. Pop in the movie,” he instructs, handing me the bag. “I’ll get us some spoons.”

For the rest of the night, I stay glued to the couch with Geoff, consuming far too much ice cream, and swooning over the God of Thunder. Though, try as I might, I can’t stop my mind from wandering toward thoughts of Judah. I have no idea what happened between yesterday and today. I can’t figure out if this was somehow my fault, or if he simply lost interest, or what.

What we have is not a relationship, and I don’t know the man very well, but his sudden disappearance seems odd. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s possible that something bad might have happened to him. Since I have no way of actually knowing one way or the other—my phone off and Geoff restricting me from turning it back on—I spend half the night thinking that
he’s
an asshole; then the other half of the night, I wonder if
I’m
the asshole who hasn’t even tried checking in on him.

Geoff leaves for home around one a.m., after I promise him that I’ll try and get some sleep. As soon as he’s out the door, I decide to check my phone. When I power it on and find not a single missed call or text, I still don’t know who the asshole is—him or me? Given the time, I force myself to go to sleep, convincing myself to save my hunt for a conclusion until the morning.

Much like the previous night, I don’t sleep well. I toss and turn for hours, only managing two or three solid hours of rest. At seven, I’m up making coffee. I nurse my first cup as I try and decide whether or not I should call Jude. After two cups, I realize that I don’t think I could stand the rejection of being sent to voicemail. I can’t say for sure that’s what will happen, but there’s no guarantee that
won’t
happen, either. After my third cup, I’m feeling wired, and I come up with this completely crazy plan. I mull it over just long enough to anxiously gobble down a pop-tart, and then I hop in the shower.

I don’t shampoo my hair, afraid that if I do, by the time I tame my waves, I’ll have lost all my nerve. After a speedy body wash, I hop out and style my hair in a thick twist at the crown of my head. I secure it with a couple hair ties and a dozen bobby pins before I hurry to my closet. I don a pair of skinny jeans and slip into a casual, silk top. It’s cream colored with capped sleeves and a really pretty red embroidery stitched pattern on the front and the back. I tuck my feet into my matching red Toms and then grab my purse, my phone, and Judah’s clothing. I’m in my car by eight fifteen, sure that if I don’t go now, I’ll never go. And if I never go, I’ll never know…

A week ago, he was kissing me good morning before assuring me there was always time for coffee. In that moment, he was like a dream. If what happened between us will never happen again, I need to know why.

I open my eyes and immediately wish that I was anywhere other than where I am. I look down my body and see Diana’s arm flung across my chest, her leg hooked over the top of mine. As if last night hadn’t been bad enough, this moment right here is proof positive that she was not a good idea. Yes, we both got off, but it felt as if her every move was calculated and sure. She wasn’t shy. She wasn’t timid. She was
familiar
. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but last night—last night, it wasn’t enough.

I move out from beneath her body, not bothering to do so carefully. It’s time for her to go. I hear her yawn as I make my way to the bathroom, and I’m confident that by the time I get out of the shower, she’ll be fully awake. While I stand underneath the hot water, I decide that I need a fresh catch—a better distraction; at the very least, someone who doesn’t know my body as well as Diana or Cierra. I’d like to experience the
illusion
of a timid woman whose passion simmers deep within, needing just the right touch—
my touch—
to light her fire.

The instant I think of Teddy, and the way her body would respond to mine in the most minute ways, I feel myself growing hard. I turn the nob in front of me, causing the water to run cold. It tamps down my lust, for the time being anyway, and I shake off the chill as I turn off the faucet and step out of the shower. I rub my towel over my head before wrapping it around my waist. I slick back the dark strands of my hair with my hands as I re-enter my bedroom. Diana is sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in last night’s attire as she checks her phone. When she hears me, she offers me a tired, lopsided smile.

“You totally wore me out last night. I don’t know how you’re up.”