Page 95 of Axe-ing for Trouble
With a nod, I turned around and pulled out of the horror farm.
As we headed for the highway, she finally lifted her gaze. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
“Anytime, Trouble.”
Chapter31
Mila
The rain battered the windshield the whole drive home.
For the hours-long drive, I did nothing but stew in the information we’d gathered. Usually being right made me feel invincible. Chasing down leads was thrilling, energizing even. But at the moment, I was exhausted and sad. Halfway home, we stopped for snacks, and when we got situated in the car again, Jude gave me his hoodie. I wrapped it around myself like a blanket and forced my eyes closed, desperate to turn off my brain.
By the time we made it back to Lovewell, it was late and the rainy day had turned into a cool, clear evening.
Inside the front door, Jude pulled me into the hug and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.
“Go take a shower,” he said.
Frowning, I looked up at him. “Why?”
“Because it’s date night. While you do that, I’ll fire up the pizza oven.”
Slightly dazed, I showered and brushed my hair and teeth. When I’d finished, I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror, marveling at how much my shoulder had already healed. I still had a lot of work to do to regain my full strength, but at least I could take care of myself now. At some point, I’d get proper medical care, which would probably mean surgery and months of physical therapy. But for now, I was grateful for a functional arm.
I had no makeup, no nice clothes, and no clue what Jude meant by date night, but I couldn’t help but notice how much healthier I looked. My bruises had healed, my cheeks had filled out, and the bags under my eyes were gone. I no longer looked like I was on the run from a criminal organization.
In fact, if I had access to hair products and makeup, I might even pass as the kind of woman who could be going out on a date with a handsome, sweet lumberjack who liked to serenade her with his guitar.
That realization caused a little of the heaviness of the day to lift.
But nothing could have prepared me for the sight in the kitchen.
The lights were dimmed, and candles flickered from the center of the large island. Then there was Jude. He wore a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a dark blue apron as he stood on the far side of the kitchen and aggressively kneaded dough on the floured countertop.
Holy shit. I’d never imagined making pizza could be erotic. For all his modesty, it was clear that Jude was a pro. He was kneading and pulling like a chef on a TV show.
And I could not stop staring.
Because holy fucking forearms.
He put his body into it, pushing and moving with the dough.
It was mesmerizing.
He was focused and precise and had complete control. It was so Jude. Just like when he played guitar or chopped wood, he was completely in the moment.
“Hello, gorgeous.” He grinned over his shoulder.
“I don’t have any date clothes,” I admitted, gesturing to my tank top and leggings.
“You look delicious,” he said, one brow cocked and his blue eyes dark.
“Can I help?”
With a shake of his head, he turned and slid a large glass of red wine toward me. “Keep me company.”
I sat on a barstool at the island and watched him as he went back to work, his shoulders bunching in a way that made my mouth water. “I want to see if I can pull some aerial photos of the spots Dickie talked about.”
