Page 9 of Stuck on Jude

We spend most of the day getting the full pampering treatment. We have massages, manicures, pedicures, waxing—despite my protests—full make-up, and hair stylings. By the time five o’clock rolls around, we’re all looking pretty fantastic for our respective dates.

And promptly at five, there’s a knock on my door.

Taking a deep breath, I pull back my shoulders—which are feeling much better post-massage—and open the door.

There, standing on the other side holding a single rose is Jude.

“Wow.” His gaze roves up my body leaving my skin tingling in delight everywhere his smoldering stare has been. When he meets my gaze, I know he means it when he says, “You look incredible.”

“I hope I’m not overdressed.” I take the rose and step back so he can enter the room. “My friends got a little excited with the notion of all of us having dates.”

“Everything good with them, then?”

“Yeah, they were out all night and didn’t know I’d fallen until this morning.” I reach for my peacoat. “Will this be warm enough for out there?”

“Do you have anything heavier?”

I pick up my massive parka. “This?”

“Perfect.”

Setting the rose aside, Jude helps me into the coat. The tips of his fingers graze the back of my neck as he pushes my hair aside. A shiver of delight runs up and down my spine.

I can’t believe this is really happening. That I’m getting ready to go out on a date with such a sexy man.

At the same time, I’m so glad this is happening. Nothing this good happens to me back home. I have to remember to thank Ciera and Teagan for twisting my arm to come here.

Taking my mittened hand in his gloved hand, Jude guides me down the stairs and outside. There, a snowmobile is waiting for us.

I squeeze his hand. “Is that thing safe?”

“Trust me.” He squeezes my hand back. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

And, I believe him.

Strong, yet sensitive, kind, yet straight-forward, in the short time I’ve known Jude, he’s never given me any reason to question his sincerity. He’s never given me any reason to feel anything but protected.

Though, I question that when we pull up to our destination.

My jaw falls open and I squeeze his waist. “Is that a shack on a lake?”

“It’s my ice hut.” He pats my hands. “Don’t worry. It’s fully heated in there.”

“Won’t the heat melt the ice?”

He chuckles. “You can tell you’re a city girl. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know.”

Sighing, he digs into his pocket. A moment later, he hands back his phone. There, on the screen, is an article explaining the science behind heated ice huts and frozen water.

I chew on my lip. “Do you have another source?”

“Check the other tabs.”

Snorting on a laugh, I hand the phone back to him. Helping me off the snowmobile, he studies me closely.

“What?” I ask. Did I get something on my face on the drive over?

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