Crush (8 page)

When he turned the key over, the engine fired to life. It was so loud, it vibrated the cab. “Now, this is a truck we could get it on in,” he said, eyeing the second-row seat, where there was more than enough space for “getting it on.”

“We didn’t have any problem in your old truck,” I muttered, clicking my seat belt into place.

Jude stopped in the middle of reversing out of the spot, eyeing the empty middle seat, then looking at where I sat at the end of the bench. “You hated that old rust bucket,” he said, visibly hurt I wasn’t sitting right next to him like I normally did.

Unfastening my belt, I scooted over until I was pressed against him. Jude’s body running the length of mine was the only thing familiar about this truck. “It was a love/hate relationship,” I said defensively. “That was more love than hate.”

Clearly appeased, he hung his arm over my shoulders and continued out of the parking spot. “Well, I’ve still got the beater, so you can say your good-byes before he goes off to truck heaven.”

“I’m not ready for him to go to truck heaven.” I pouted, wondering why I was so upset. Jude was right: I wasn’t his old truck’s biggest fan. But now, seeing what it had been replaced with—something shiny and new—made me anxious for reasons I didn’t want to admit to myself.

“I got you a little present,” Jude said. “It’s in the glove box.”

Once he was free and clear of the garage, he gunned it. You would have thought that truck had the engine of an Indy car from the way it took off.

“My just-because present?”

“Just because I love you,” he said, clearly eager for me to open it.

I was nervous, even more so after seeing the new truck, the cost of which I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

When I opened the glove box, a robin’s-egg-blue box with a white bow toppled out. I picked it up, already close to hyperventilating. I’d never received a gift in the blue-and-white box, but it was iconic. Every girl knew what store it came from and what was inside. It was a female rite of passage to identify this particular shade of robin’s-egg blue.

I brought it to my lap and stared at it.

“Open it,” he encouraged. “I’ve been dying to give it to you since I picked it out last week.”

I smiled. It was impossible not to with that boyish look on his face. “This is a pretty fancy box, Mr. Ryder,” I said, untying the bow.

“Walmart does a pretty badass gift wrap, don’t they?”

I elbowed him. “Nice try.” I doubted I’d ever get another Walmart present from him again. The idea made me sad.

“Open it,” he said. “Nothing’s too good for my girl. It’s nice I can finally afford those things you deserve.”

“Jude—”

Before I could say whatever I’d been planning to say next, his mouth was on mine, fast and hard. Just as quickly, it was gone. I might have thought I’d made the whole thing up if I couldn’t still taste him on my lips.

“Open it,” he said, his face smug.

He knew exactly what he was doing and used that to his advantage. He could have been asking me to jump off a cliff, and I was so foggy brained I would have.

I took a breath and slid the lid off.

Nestled inside was a silver cuff bracelet. Simple and elegant. Something I would have picked out for myself, if I’d allowed myself to pick out something so nice.

“Wow,” I breathed, pulling it out. It was heavy and cool to the touch.

“Do you like it?” He glanced between the road and me.

“Now, that’s a bracelet,” I said, not having to fake my excitement for him.

“Turn it over,” he instructed. “There’s something else.”

Shooting him a curious look, I rotated the bracelet. There was an engraving on the inside, and the words made me weak in all the places a girl could go weak.

“‘For my Luce,’” I read.
Luce
had two sparkly stones around it. My dad would love the “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” reference. “‘Who has all my firsts that matter.’”

“Wow,” I repeated. Words were failing me.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at the bracelet proudly.

“Jude,” I started. “It’s . . . it’s . . .” I had nothing more than one-syllable babble. Sliding the cuff onto my left wrist, I searched for the right words that would express my thanks.

Nothing.

Totally tongue-tied. I was a dancer, not a writer; my body expressed the way I was feeling a hundred times better than my words ever could.

And then it came to me.

Leaning closer, I kissed his scar. Once, twice, and then a third time before I moved to his mouth. I’d taken him by surprise. That was apparent from the way his muscles tensed. Taking Jude Ryder by surprise was rare, and I was going to enjoy it. Sweeping gentle kisses over his entire mouth, I savored the moment. Our other kisses were so passionate and unyielding I felt like I was being consumed by them, but this one I held on to. I enjoyed the scent of salt on his skin. The way the fullness of his bottom lip felt in my mouth. The way his tongue tasted against mine.

I pressed one final kiss into the center of his mouth. “Thank you,” I said. “I love my bracelet.” Okay, one final,
final
kiss. “And I love you.”

“Damn, woman,” he said, whistling through his teeth. “Have mercy. If that’s the thanks I get, I will be getting you jewelry every single day.”

As I leaned my head on his shoulder, I admired the bracelet. He had a finger, and now a wrist. And he had my heart. Jude Ryder was slowly taking me over, one body part at a time.

“And you’re welcome.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I slid my fingers up and down his as he was content to draw circles on my arm. It was peaceful, and although these kinds of quiet moments had been increasing during our time together, peace wasn’t a regular thing in our relationship. I hoped that one day that would change.

“Hey, I need you to put something on,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket.

My eyes narrowed at the thing dangling from his index finger.

“A blindfold?” I said. “A black satin blindfold? What was I saying about you being a horny perv?”

He shook his head. “This has nothing to do with horny . . . kinky . . . perverty,” he said, sounding increasingly uneasy with each word.

I held in my laugh. “Damn,” I teased. “There’s a way to ruin a girl’s day.”

“So difficult,” he said under his breath. “Just put it on. I’ve got another surprise for you.”

Grabbing the blindfold, I slid it on. “Does this surprise have to do with any horny, kinky, perverty fun?”

“No.” He chuckled.

“Double damn.”

More laughter. “Luce, you are busting my balls big-time today.”

“That’s because I’m into that kind of thing. You know? The horny, kinky, perverty kind of thing.” If I was going to be blindfolded so he could take me to some other surprise, I was going to let my snarky side run free.

It wasn’t much longer before the truck came to a stop.

“We’re here,” he said, his voice all boyish and excited again.

“We’re where?”

Grabbing my hands, he helped me out of the cab. Thankfully, he lifted me from the truck, because I didn’t want to make a blindfolded jump not knowing what the hell I’d land on.

“Here,” he answered, guiding me by the shoulders. We were moving over a hard surface. Concrete? Asphalt? Stone, maybe? Other than the sound of running water, fountains possibly, it was quiet. He couldn’t have been taking me to a store; we weren’t at the beach . . . where in the world were we?

Suddenly, he scooped me into his arms and jogged up what I assumed were stairs, before I heard a door open. Turning sideways, Jude walked inside before setting me down. My heart was already in my throat before he slid the blindfold back.

The first thing I saw was his eyes. I wanted to keep looking at them, to never look away, because I already knew what I was going to see when I did. I was scared to shift my gaze.

“I couldn’t find a big enough bow to put around it,” he said, turning me around. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Thankfully Jude had wrapped his arms around me, so when I wavered in place, he kept me upright. We were standing in a cavernous room, a space that could fit a decent-size home, and we were just in the foyer. A room a person walked through to get to others that were the size of my parents’ cabin. There were two staircases going up to the second floor. One for going up? One for going down? I didn’t have a clue, but it wasn’t the only thing over-the-top about this place. The chandelier hanging in the center of the room was the size of a Volkswagen, the furniture was so ornate it went past the point of offensive, and the marble floors were so shiny they almost looked like an ice-skating rink.

“What
is
this?” I whispered, hoping the answer I’d arrived at was wrong.

“The soon-to-be residence of a Mr. and Mrs. Ryder,” he answered, tucking his chin over my shoulder. He was grinning like a crazy man, but that changed when he saw my face.

“Luce?” he said, the excitement gone from his voice. “What’s wrong?”

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t keep looking around. Each new thing I saw drove me that much closer to having a full-fledged panic attack. “What is this, Jude?”

“Our home,” he said slowly.

“No. Our home is back in New York.”

His forehead wrinkled. “No, that place is a condemned apartment we rent. That place is a tetanus shot waiting to happen,” he said, sounding defensive. “You’re standing in our home. The place we’re going to own outright in a year’s time.”

“I like our apartment,” I whispered, weaving out of his embrace. Things were changing too fast. The NFL, the cross-country move, the money, the house . . . it was all moving at warp speed and I couldn’t even begin to keep up. We’d been pulling change out of the seat cushions to pay our electric bill last month, and this month we were standing inside the foyer of a house that was the size of a small country.

“You hate that place.” His voice was getting louder, and he was looking at me in that way again. Like he didn’t recognize me.

I hated that look.

“It’s a love/hate relationship that’s more—”

“What the hell, Luce?” he interrupted. “What new kind of crazy have you caught?”

That trigger-touch temper of mine, like his, just shot to the surface. However, like Jude, I’d been learning to control mine. I got that in Jude’s mind, he’d picked this place thinking I’d love it. I knew that at the core of every decision Jude made, my happiness was his top priority, and I loved that about him. I
knew
his heart was in the right place when he’d decided to turn us into the Joneses overnight, but I was upset about the way he’d gone about it. How could he make this huge life decision on his own without even consulting me first? We were a team. We should be making decisions as one.

Biting my tongue, I inhaled slowly before I dared to reply. “Same question right back at ya: What kind of crazy have
you
caught?” I said, nothing antagonistic in my voice, because that wasn’t how I meant it. I truly was wondering what new kind of crazy Jude had caught to go out and get a place like this.

Popping his neck from side to side, Jude took his time replying. We were both working to keep our anger monkeys in their cages. “I’m renting the place right now until I get my first big check, and then the owner’s agreed to sell it to me fully furnished.” He stopped and took another deep breath. “You should see the lagoon and tennis court in the back. This place is hooked up.”

“Lagoon? Tennis court?” My stomach was feeling more and more sick. I reminded myself once more that Jude had done this because he loved me. Not because he wanted to piss me the hell off. I bit back what I wanted to say. “Jude, we’re twenty-one years old.”

“We’re twenty-one-year-old millionaires,” he said with a shrug. “And now that I’ve got the means to give you anything and everything, I’m going to. I want to make you happy, Luce. That’s all I give a damn about,” he said, pointing at me. “You. Happy. Forever.”

“Happy?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “You think this is what’s going to make me happy? What did you do? Go down to the local library and check out
The Idiot’s Guide to Making a Gold-digging Trophy Wife Happy
?”

I tried biting my tongue again. Man, I tried, but apparently I’d reached my quota of tongue-biting today.

“Because if I was a gold digger then I imagine this would make me very happy,” I said, sweeping my arms around the room. “But I’m not. Despite your wanting me to be this girl who wants your money, I’m not that girl!”

What was I saying? What was I so mad about?

Jude’s face went from shocked, to sad, to angry in two seconds flat. “No, you’re not that girl, Luce. It doesn’t seem like I can do anything to make you happy these days. Maybe you just don’t want to be happy.”

Those words were like a slap to my face. I reminded myself yet again that this house was Jude’s way of showing his love for me, but my temper had taken off and I couldn’t pull it back. “Here’s a tip. If you’re looking to make someone happy, maybe you should think about what they’d want, not what you want them to want.”

Wrapping his hands behind his neck, Jude spun away from me. “And here’s a tip for you. You have to be willing to let happiness in when it comes your way.”

His words made me flinch.

“How is you buying a house for us in Southern California without asking me first supposed to equate with happiness? I live in New York, Jude. New. York.”

“You live in New York for another year,” he said, staring at the nearest wall like he wanted to bang his head against it. “Once you’re done with school you can leave and move in with me.”

This wasn’t a slap. This was a punch. A sucker punch to the gut. “I can leave New York and move in with you here? In California? In a Playboy-size mansion?” How had there been such a disconnect between us? Where did he get off assuming he could just map my life out for me without checking with me first? “Who said I wanted to pick up and move across the country to live with you here in the land of fake tits and phony smiles?”

From the look on his face, you would have thought I’d just socked him in the stomach. “When you agreed to marry me. When you let me put that ring on your finger.” His words were slow and controlled. So much so they were scary-sounding.