I glanced around and out of the handful of people in the shop they all stared. Fantastic.
My cheeks heated with color and I looked down at my ice cream. “Sorry. It tasted good.”
“Don’t apologize.” He grinned and I knew something naughty was about to come out of his lips. “I quite enjoyed that…although, I’d enjoy it even more if we were in my bed. And naked. And—”
“Shut up!” I groaned, shaking my head so that my long blonde hair shielded my face. I wasn’t one to easily embarrass, but Jude? Yeah, he embarrassed me all the time. It was like some special talent he had.
Suddenly, his warm fingers were on my chin, guiding my head up. “Don’t get shy on me now, Tate,” he rubbed his large thumb in soothing circles over the apple of my cheek. “Where’s that feisty girl who kicks me and punches me when I do stupid shit?”
“Kissing me wasn’t stupid.” My lips thinned into a hard line as I realized the words that had tumbled from my mouth.
He let his hand drop and sat back, taking a lick of the dripping chocolate ice cream. “I knew you liked it, and you liked it even more when I kissed you in my truck.”
I didn’t have a rebuttal, because he was right. I had enjoyed it, enough so that I wouldn’t mind it happening again. But I kept that tidbit of information a secret. The longer Jude stayed oblivious to my growing feelings, the better. Actually, it wasn’t even that. The longer I could pretend my feelings didn’t exist, the better.
“For the record,” he continued, licking ice cream off his upper lip, “I like kissing you too. A lot.”
I was convinced that Jude liked to say things to make me uncomfortable. It was like he got some kind of pleasure from watching me squirm.
As if he sensed that he’d made me uncomfortable, Jude cracked a smile. “Hey, look at us enjoying ice cream and no one’s gotten covered in it yet.”
I didn’t want to, but I laughed. And laughed some more until my sides hurt. I couldn’t remember when I’d laughed that hard. Probably before Graham died. I couldn’t believe it was the guy I blamed for my brother’s death that made me so undeniably…happy. It wasn’t fair, but life rarely is.
Chapter Eleven
On Sunday morning I awoke to someone banging pots and pans in the kitchen. I jolted out of bed, stumbling down the steps as I wiped sleep from my eyes. Who the hell was in the kitchen? My mom never got out of bed before twelve in the afternoon, unless I made her, and when I’d went to bed at one in the morning my dad still hadn’t come home.
But if there was an intruder in the house, why the hell were they going for the pots and pans? I was pretty sure they weren’t worth much.
I skidded to a halt in front of the archway leading to the kitchen. My socks spun me around on the slick floor and I grabbed the doorframe for support so I didn’t fall on my butt. No one wanted a bruise on their ass.
“Dad?” I gasped at the form huddled over the stove making breakfast.
I rubbed my eyes, then blinked them rapidly when the image in front of me didn’t change.
Holy shitake mushrooms. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My dad hadn’t cooked any sort of meal in this kitchen since before Graham died. Man, there was so much in my life that existed in Before Graham Died and After Graham Died. It was sort of pathetic.
“Dad?” I took a hesitant step into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast, Tatie. You want chocolate chip pancakes, right?”
Tears welled in my eyes at the sound of my nickname. I hadn’t heard it in so long, and my God it felt so good to hear, but strange at the same time. I couldn’t figure out what he thought was going to happen by making breakfast. He’d stopped being my dad a long time ago and I wasn’t sure the damage could be undone.
“Um, sure,” I took a seat at one of the barstools and placed my hands flat on the cool granite countertop. “Dad? I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what do you expect to accomplish with this?”
He set the mixing bowl aside and put his hands on his hips. He let out a loud sigh and then ruffled his hair. It was getting a bit too long, like he’d forgotten to get it cut in a while.
“I’m just making breakfast.”
I wasn’t trying to start an argument with him, but I couldn’t sit back and not say anything about this. “Dad, you haven’t made breakfast in a long time. Hell, you haven’t even been sle
eping at home. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me being curious.”
“God, Tatum!” He yelled, slamming his hand against the mixing bowl. It went flying through the air and batter splattered all over the kitchen. I was startled. Stunned. Unable to move. To even breathe. “Why do you always have to question everything?” His chest heaved up and down like he’d run a marathon.
There was so much I wanted to say, but I was silent.
More than that, I was scared.