Page 72 of Jude

‘Judah, no, please!’

She broke into loud sobs as I turned my back on her and stalked down the steps, her cries ringing out across the quiet street.

Fake tears for a cheap performance.

I threw myself into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and tore away into the night, leaving her in the rearview mirror where she belonged.

The drive back to Belle Meade felt like an eternity.

I prowled through my front door and found Sofia sitting in the living room, eyes on the TV, nursing a cup of tea.

‘Hey,’ she said, eyes slicing to me with a touch of wariness.

‘Sofia,’ I growled, stopping at the edge of the sofa and pulling off my leather jacket, searching for any hint of hurt or anger in her eyes. ‘Can we talk?’

She turned off the screen and swiveled to gaze at me.

‘Sure.’

‘I caught the security footage at the front door. I’m so sorry for what happened here today. Abby’s my ex, and she’s from my past. She had no right to bring that toxic nonsense to your doorstep. You shouldn’t have to deal with my baggage on top of everything else you’re carrying.’

Sofia set her ceramic mug down on a side table with a soft click, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a clarity that threw me off guard.

She then shot me a small, knowing smile that disarmed me.

‘It’s OK, Jude. We all have our demons. Some of them tote expensive designer bags.’

She gave me a quick wink, letting me know she wasn’t butt-hurt by the encounter.

I huffed in sudden amusement, a rough laugh escaping as the lingering tension left my shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ I gritted, leaning my hip on the armchair behind me as I glanced down at her, still floored by how she handled Abby’s heat. ‘Some of them do. Honestly, being around you and your good energy, I don’t even know what I ever saw in her.’

Damn, Sofia was refreshing.

She was miles clear of Abby.

The contrast was extraordinary.

My ex was a self-absorbed woman, living for the drama.

Sofia? She was warmth, wit, and an hourglass body and tight ass that set my blood on fire.

She had no clue about her effect on me as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a soft smile playing on her lips.

‘If it makes you feel any better, we’re all cursed with terrible judgment at some point. In high school, I had a desperate crush on a boy named Mateo. He had these soulful eyes, and I thought he was a deep, brooding genius.’

I raised an eyebrow, curious to hear more.

‘Let me guess. He was a dud?’

‘Not even close,’ she laughed, shaking her head. ‘It turned out his silence was just him thinking about his true passion: snakes. At the talent show, instead of playing an instrument or reciting poetry like I dreamed he would, he got up on stage and released five of his pets. It triggered a riot, and he went ballistic, screaming at us for being scared as they slithered all around us.’

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, though her shoulders shook with laughter.

‘I sat in the front row, horrified, wondering if this was the soul I had been mooning about and writing poems about in my diary.’

The mental image she described was too much.