Page 5 of Stuck on Jude

“Then they can reach me if they need anything.”

She eyes me seriously a moment. I can feel myself growing hard under her stare. I’m glad to be wearing jeans—a perk of being a doctor at a lodge—instead of the scrubs or khakis I had to wear back at the hospital in Seattle.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks.

“I don’t mind.”

In fact, I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than spending a little time getting to know this beautiful, sassy woman.

THREE

LUCY

Settling on my bed, I try to keep my focus on the TV screen. It shouldn’t be hard. We’re watchingSleepless in Seattle, only one of the best movies ever made.

I know there are parts of it that are problematic. Like, if the roles were reversed and Tom Hanks flew across the country to spy on Meg Ryan, would we still think it was cute?

Actually, I probably would. As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to romantic comedies neither Tom Hanks nor Meg Ryan can do any wrong. And I will fight anyone on that.

Because this is one of my favorite movies—and I’ve watched it more times than I can count—I know we’re about to come up to one of my favorite parts. Every other time, I’ve watched it with bated breath. Waiting to swoon and sigh a little.

Not this time. This time, it’s taking every ounce of my energy to keep my attention on the screen. I’d blame it on the fact that there’s a bump roughly the size of Texas on the top of my head. It’s so big, it’s a wonder I didn’t break any bones or need stitches.

But it’s not the bump’s fault I’m finding it hard to get into one of Nora Ephron’s greatest masterpieces. I don’t think she’d blame me for being distracted when she saw the man watching along-side me.

Jude Knight, the lodge’s doctor in residence, has pulled up the chair I’d been using for dirty laundry. Though his arm rests casually on the nightstand between us, he’s close enough I can smell whatever cologne he’s wearing.

Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath. There’s a hint of pine and fresh air. Okay, so that may just be how he smells and not a cologne. Dear God, that’s even sexier.

“You okay?”

My eyelids flutter open and I face him. He’s watching me closely, his brows knit together in concern.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you getting sleepy? Because it’s okay if you want to take a little nap.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “I thought people with concussions weren’t supposed to sleep for twenty-four hours.”

“That’s been disproven.” When I continue to stare at him, he chuckles lightly. “Here, give me a second.”

He lifts up his hip, his jeans stretching over his well-defined thighs. I gulp, even as butterflies flutter in my belly.

Pulling out a phone, his thumbs fly over the screen. A moment later, he hands it over. I take it and read cautiously. Sure enough, the article from a well-respected medical university highlights a study done. Apparently, as long as a person who has had a concussion is capable of carrying on a conversation—and hasn’t developed other symptoms—they’re fine.

“I have a second and third article in the other tabs in case you wanted to fact check the fact check,” he says.

“That won’t be necessary.” I press my lips together and hand the phone back over to him. We fall back into watching the movie. I’m still not entirely capable of losing myself in the plot. But I am watching well enough for when Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan lock eyes across a road.

I sigh.

“Are you okay?” Jude asks.

“Are you going to keep asking that?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“Touche.” I start to shake my head but remember at the last second that I’m wearing a brace that makes that difficult. “I was just responding to the movie.”

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