I doubted he'd give me a straight answer but still I asked, "Why are you here?"
His brows knit together. "The better question is, why areyou?"
I didn't want to admit that my only objective with running in this circus was buying myself some breathing room with my mother. I didn't want him to know that, in too many ways, I still fell in line when my parents demanded it.
"It's our class reunion. Iwantto be here," I said.
His gaze lingered on me, waiting for me to walk back the lie. The silence stretched taut until he finally broke it. "Let's get back to that husband of yours."
"I'd rather not," I fired back, voice steady even as my chest squeezed tight. "He's not mine. Not anymore."
Jude dipped his head, his brow nearly touching mine. "Isn't that nice for you."
I couldn't bear to be that close to himandmaintain eye contact, so I shifted my attention away, over his shoulder. Clusters of our classmates filled in the spaces around the dance floor, though no one else joined in. Most stood with drinks in hand and their faces half turned to catch whispers.
His hand slid higher on my back, thumb drawing a slow, steady circle between my shoulder blades. "When did it end?"
I gave a brittle, not-quite laugh. "It doesn't matter and I have a strong suspicion you already know, so why don't you save us both some time and get to the point."
"I guess it's good to see you didn't let Christopher Wexler the fourth take your tongue and your teeth. A gentleman, after all."
I stepped back, nearly out of his hold. "Is this what you want? To rile up your fanboys and remind me that your default mode is fuck gremlin? Then, bravo. Job adequately done."
Jude's eyes narrowed, his fingers flexed around my hand. Then he yanked me back into his arms and I resented the wave of recognition he set off inside me with that touch—and the heat that chased it. "You deserve credit for lasting as long as you did with him." There was an edge in his voice, something rough and a little unsteady. "Did you get it out of your system or is there another heir apparent teed up?"
I'd dreamed versions of this where we yelled at each other. Screamed it all out. And versions where we ran into each other's arms and stayed there a long, long time. I never dreamed up a verbal dagger fight or the overwhelming urge to take off my shoes and throw them at him.
"I'm single," I managed, mentally stepping around my mother's endless attempts at matchmaking. "And I like it that way. I like it very much."
He leaned in until his lips brushed over my ear. "I don't believe you."
"And isn't it funny how I don't care?" I gave him a stubborn shake of my head that succeeded only in bringing my cheek to his lips.Oh, god.That simple contact almost knocked me flat on my ass.
He drew back just enough for his gaze to search mine. "Except you do," he said flatly. "Don't forget, Saunders: no one knows you better than I do. I can tell when you're lying to me. Always have, always will."
I stumbled back a step, then another. Words caught somewhere in my chest, clunky and sharp like scrap metal, and I let my silence say what I couldn't—that he was right, and he knew it.
And then I sprinted out of the tent.
chapter four
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: initiate
I gaveAudrey a head start but I didn't let her out of my sight. I knew better than to make that mistake twice.
She cut a wide arc around the back of the tent and vanished into an academic building like she'd mapped an escape route in advance. Couldn't say it was a bad idea, considering the company.
I had no idea how she covered so much ground so quickly. I knew for a fact that she hated running (made her feel "gangly"), but she moved like a gazelle. Fast. Confident. Fully aware of the threats in this particular animal kingdom.
Those killer heels of hers clicked against the marble floors as she dashed down the hall. The lizard portion of my brain took some pleasure in this chase—and that was a big fucking problem. I didn't have time to care about her shoes or those long, long legs or the way her hair shone in the low light while she ran away from me.
Big. Fucking. Problem.
Unfortunately for me, this infuriating woman was only one of several big fucking problems on my list at the moment.
The interior smelled the same as it always did, like wood polish and stale coffee, and I resented my brain for holding on to that data point all this time. I could count the things I cared to remember about this place on four fingers, and three of them involved the blonde hellcat who made up most of the punctuation marks in my adult life.
