Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (66 page)

An irritated frown pulls at my eyebrows before I reply. “It’s a little early to be calling to give me shit, isn’t it?”

“And
The Ritz?
I mean, come on, Jude—you’re making my girl jealous, over here,” he continues, completely ignoring my question.

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

He chuckles, but my irritation remains firmly intact. He’s
yet
to announce the reason for his call, and I don’t wish to take the risk of waking Teddy for a pointless chit-chat.

“My big brother is in love.”

“I don’t fall in love,” I tell him, looking down at the woman who owns me. For today, at least. “Ben, is there a reason why you’re calling? She’s still sleeping.”

“Bullshit, you don’t fall in love.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing good and well that he can’t see me do it, and stay silent.

“You’ve gone above and beyond for that girl. An entire weekend away? No work? One woman? Not to mention the last couple of months?
And
you’re introducing her to mom and dad? Wake up, brother—you’re in love.”

“Who told you I was introducing her to mom and Joe?”

“Harper. That’s why I’m calling. She wants to crash your party. Something about Teddy being nervous and sisterly obligations. I don’t know—but I called mom yesterday. She said she was just waiting on confirmation from you. I’m calling for said confirmation.”

“We’ll be down for dinner on Saturday.”

“Then I suppose I’ll see you Saturday.” He pauses for a moment, then asks, “You do realize that for a man who
doesn’t
fall in love, your actions scream of commitment, don’t you? I mean, you’ve met her parents. She’s about to meet ours. I’m
not
afraid to admit that I’m in love with Harper, and she’s only meeting mom because apparently we have to keep up with you and Teddy.”

“You seem to put a lot of weight on the significance of meeting the parents. Weight that seems entirely unnecessary.”

“Says the man who has
never
brought a woman home before.”

“Benjamin, if I brought home every woman who has ever shared my bed, our mother might disown me.”

“Touché,” he says with a laugh. “Still—sounds to me like you’re suffering from a classic case of denial, Jude. If Teddy is as nervous as Harper says, even she considers this to be a big deal.”

I draw in a deep breath, watching as Teddy’s head rises and falls with the act. I then reach up and brush a little of her dark red hair out of her face, revealing more of her profile.

“I can’t control how she feels. All I can do is wait for the other shoe to drop. It will. And when it does, none of these
milestones
, or whatever you’d like to call them, will make a difference.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The nature of people. We all change, Ben. I do not expect Teddy to be an exception.”

“Dude—you’re talking in riddles. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

He sighs, and I can practically
hear
the contemplative expression on his face.

“Look, I know you’re older and wiser, or whatever—but I know a thing or two about love. I know that it’s precious. I know that the love of a woman who will share your bed is not something to scoff at—it’s not something to take for granted—and it’s certainly not something to
resist
.

“I know you. I know you have some sort of
aversion
to
attachment
, but there’s only one Teddy. You can fuck around as much as you want, but you’ll never be able to find another like her. And say what you will, but your actions speak louder than your words. You want her. You want her more than anyone else. So, if I were you, I’d stop waiting for this other
shoe
to drop, and admit how you feel. In my experience, if you don’t own up—you’ll lose her.”

Benjamin. My brother. The romantic. He’s a fool if he thinks that his advice is worth a damn. He himself has fallen in and out of love, proving that
Eros
love is simply a season in which one is happy with someone else. The moment that changes, the moment that feeling fades, that love is gone—as if it never existed. I will not allow myself to fall victim to that emotional trap.

What Teddy and I have is as real as it will ever be. She’s mine now—and I am hers. That much I will admit to; that much cannot be denied; that much has been
promised
. I am nothing if not a man of my word. I will stay faithful to Teddy, so long as she stays faithful to me. But I must also stay faithful to myself.

My shy girl inhales deeply, her arm tightening around me before her eyes flutter open. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as she looks up at me sleepily. When she smiles at me, I know that Benjamin is right about one thing. Her love is not something to take for granted. And as our weekend seems to be slipping away faster and faster with every passing moment, I know I don’t wish to spend another second of it on the phone with my brother—not when I can be buried inside of my woman.

“I’ve got to go, Ben.”

“She’s awake, isn’t she?”

“I’ll see you Saturday,” I reply, hanging up without another word.

“Morning,” Teddy murmurs, reaching up to kiss my stubbled jaw.

“Morning, sweetheart,” I say, bringing my lips to hers.

She hums into my mouth as I flick my tongue into hers, and I know immediately how we’ll be spending our last morning here in Beaver Creek.

I
t’s been a busy week. To say that I’m distracted as of late would be putting it mildly. My dick has been getting a lot of my attention, and I’ve been paying for it the last few days. I haven’t seen Teddy since Monday. Late nights at the office, followed by catch up work at home, has left me little time for pleasure. This weekend, I intend to change that. I want her in my bed. I even managed to squeeze in a little extra work last night to make sure that I get what I want.

On my way back from the worksite in Windsor, where I dropped by to check in on the progress of construction, I decided to run a quick errand. It’s nearly eleven by the time I return to the office. Just as I’m walking into the building, I spot Logan as she is making her way to the entrance from her car. I wait, holding the door open for her when she catches up to me.

“Thank you,” she says, beaming at me.

“Where are you coming from?” I ask, curious about her mood.

“Doctor’s appointment, remember? I was scheduled for another ultrasound this morning.”

I respond with only a nod. I
didn’t
remember—but I don’t make it my business to remember such things.

“We found out the sex of our baby,” she gushes.

“Ah,” I mutter, suddenly understanding her good mood. “And?”

“We’re having a boy,” she replies, her hand finding its way to her growing belly—a new habit of hers.

“And you’re pleased, I presume?”

“I wouldn’t have minded either way,” she says with a little shrug. “But this just means we can finally narrow down our name choices. Oh! And I can start planning the nursery.”

“Blue?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“You know, I think I might try green. Not pastel green, though—more of a forest green? I’ll have to look into it.”

“Well, I applaud your decision to stray away from the cliché.”

I offer her one more nod before turning to my office, but she stops me.

“I’ve kept my silence all week, but I can’t any longer; and since we’re speaking on personal matters, I have to ask you a question.”

Sliding my hands into my pockets, I look down at her before I reply, “My answer is not guaranteed, but I know you’ll ask anyway. So?”

“The facial hair, it’s been quite the topic of conversation amongst the ladies the last few days. Inquiring minds want to know—did you lose a bet? Are you switching things up? Just trying it out?”

Extracting one hand from my pocket, I reach up and rub at the scruff that covers my jaw. I haven’t been clean shaven for a week. My morning routine now consists of a trim, keeping the look of a couple days’ growth at most. It’s taken some getting used to, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it when I see the look of surprise on Teddy’s face tonight. She doesn’t know that I’ve decided to keep it.

“Don’t you all have better things to talk about than my personal hygiene preferences?” I ask, returning my hand to my pocket.

“Not this week, we don’t,” she says, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Besides, I kind of just want to hear you say it.”

“Here me say
what
, exactly?”

“The
real
reason you decided to sport the scruffy debonair look.” I frown at her, confused by what she’s getting at and impatient to be finished with this conversation. “Oh, come on,” she continues. “There’s only one
real
reason why you—Judah St. Michaels—would decide to change your look.”

“Logan—”

“Just say it. I’m
dying
to hear you admit it. Cut the pregnant, hormonal woman some slack and indulge me.”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say,” I reply with a shrug.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before she says, “Teddy asked you to keep it. I mean, that’s got to be the reason, right?”

I offer her no more than a small smile and a shake of my head as I begin to back away from her.

“I think it’s time you get back to work, Logan.”

She laughs as I turn my back on her, and my own smile can’t be helped.

“Well, she’s a smart woman, that Teddy—impeccable taste, too!” she calls out.

That, I won’t deny. Every impeccable woman comes equipped with impeccable taste—and mine is no exception to the rule.

My stomach tingles as I admire my bouquet of flowers, the arrangement filled with the dark colors of autumn, reminding me of our weekend spent in Beaver Creek. I’ll never forget it. Not just because of the opulence of it all, not even because of the marvelous photos I was able to take, but because it was exactly what Harper said it would be—the most romantic weekend of my life.

The memory of it has kept me warm the last few nights. I haven’t seen Judah in four days. I know he’s been working a lot, probably paying for all that he
didn’t
do over the weekend, on top of his usual work-week load. Yet, regardless of
why
I haven’t seen him, it doesn’t change the fact that I miss him like mad. I’ve tried to stay busy to distract myself—dinner with Geoffrey on Tuesday; dinner at Andy and Carrie’s house on Wednesday; phone date with Harper last night—but none of them are Judah. None of them can truly fill the void that is left when we’re apart. And while I have had the pleasure of hearing his voice every day, I can hardly wait to feel his touch tonight. In just a couple of hours, I’ll be at his doorstep, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t counting down the minutes.