“Don’t worry about it for now.” He glances away from the traffic to meet my gaze. I don’t want him to feel responsible, or worse, pity my situation, but by the gentleness to his features, I must do a shit job of keeping my feelings hidden. “We can settle up once he assesses the problem.”
Maybe Jude would spot me the money, but the thought turns my stomach. I can’t ask him for that. I refuse to play the damsel in distress. I’ve done that before, and look where it left me. No. I can’t expect anyone to see me as an independent, strong woman if I can’t handle this challenge on my own.
“Do you know if he takes credit cards? Or maybe I should talk to him about a payment plan before he starts work. Depending on how much it is—”
Jude holds up his hand. “He’s a friend. He knows I’m good for it. You don’t have to worry.” Yep. He pities me. I don’t know why, but that stings more than it should.
“I can’t let you cover the bill, Jude. I barely know you.”
“Right.” He nods, his gaze on the road. “That’s a problem.” He glances at his mirrors, signals, and cranks the wheel. The seat jostles as we cut over two lanes of traffic and slide into the next exit. Someone lays on their horn, and I don’t have to look around to know we probably cut them off.
I glance at the GPS and then at the sign overhead. “Oh, my exit’s not for another five miles.”
“Right. But like you said, we don’t know each other very well. So, I know just the thing.”
I don’t know what he’s planning. Shit. Maybe I let my guard down too soon. This is the part where myDatelinespecial begins. Only, Jude doesn’t appear anything other than normal, and my gut says I can trust him. To be sure, I level him with a stare and pull out my phone. “You’re not going to murder me now, are you?” I drop my location to Jared, along with a text to call me in an hour.
Jude sneaks glances my way, his lips fidgeting with restrained amusement. “Nope. But you might want to die after you try this restaurant. It’s so damn good.”
“We’re going to a restaurant?” My stomach rumbles so loud I’m almost positive he hears.
“Dinner, Rachel.” He chuckles to himself, turning into a strip mall of different shops and restaurants. “We’re grabbing dinner.”
“Oh, I can’t let you—”
“Do you not eat?”
I roll my eyes. “I think it’s pretty obvious I do.”
“Good. Because we’re going to be friends.” He flashes me another smirk. “I’ve decided. Then you won’t argue with me when I use my connections to repair your metal deathtrap.”
“Iron Maiden.” I press a hand to my chest. “She’s sensitive, so don’t speak about her like that.”
His smile grows. “Right. We’ll fix up your Iron Babe and in the meantime, I’ll convince you to enjoy my company. I’m prepared to bribe you with free burgers and milkshakes.” With that he pulls into an open parking spot and cuts the engine.
“I want to argue with you, but something tells me you’ll still get your way.”
He grins, releasing the clasp of his seat belt. “See. I feel like you already get me.”
9
Rachel
Jude Lawrence might not be a psychopath or serial killer, but he is delusional. “How have you never seen a Marvel movie?” I momentarily abandon the best milkshake I’ve had in years to throw my hands in the air. “Like, how is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not a teenager?” During dinner he ditches his jacket, rolling the cuffs of his dress shirt. A simple, practical move before digging into these mammoth craft burgers, but also incredibly distracting.
A gasp leaves my lips. More from the shock he’s dissing my favorite franchise, and a little from how he fills out his dress shirt. I wish he didn’t look so good. It’d be easier to stay angry.
He only smiles smugly and shoves another fry into his mouth. “What? You can’t tell me you actually like those movies.”
Too far. “Take that back. Take it back now, or I am never speaking to you again.”
His brows lift. “You’re serious?”
“Dead.”
“Fine.” He holds up his hands. “I am sorry I don’t like Batman.”
