“Yeah, well, I applied for the job because you’re in Chicago.”
“Because you don’t make friends easy, and because you wanted someone to grab coffee with.”
He stared at me. “I didn’t just want to have coffee with you.”
I blinked fast. He stared at me with an earnestness that could only mean one thing. It made me realize all this time I’d been completely oblivious to what was right in front of my nose. Judeliked meliked me.
The thought sent a shiver of delight through me, all the way deep to my inner twelve-year-old self. And despite all the ways I tried to deny it, that tween crush still felt alive in a dusty corner of my heart. All I needed, I realized, was a little spark to bring it back to life.
Then I did what Oscar had forbidden me to do.
I leaned in and kissed him.
Jude’s surprise gave way to soft enthusiasm as his lips met mine, like they’d been plotting this for years. Now that I waskissing Jude, all the reward sectors of my brain lit up like a slot machine, and I wondered why I wasn’t kissing him every second of every day. This wasn’t the awkward hand-kiss of my childhood crush. Oh, hell no. This was an electrical fire, pure flame dancing up and down all the nerve endings in my body. Jude’s hands found my lower back, and mine snaked up and locked behind his neck, and I pressed my body into his, finding that we fit together, perfectly.
Damn, he was good. He wasn’t cold and scientific, not now. He was passionate in a way I didn’t think possible. He was warm and soft and amazing. I didn’t think he’d taste this good. His lips against mine, breathing his air, felt like… some place I’d been seeking for a long time. I wanted to live here.
We deepened the kiss. My hands were in his hair. I forgot we were in public, because I itched to take off his jacket, to whittle away the layers between us until it was pure skin on skin. This man tasted like every dessert I had ever wanted in my life. Kissing him felt like coming home in the best possible way.
And then a sheriff’s SUV hit a single high note of a truncated siren behind us. Jude pulled away first, panting; then I saw the sheriff’s SUV in the rearview mirror and noticed the red and blue flashing lights filling the car. This was my worst nightmare. Had Oscar caught us making out? I’d never hear the end of it. I was more panicked about that than a murder charge, which told you something about my headspace.
I pulled away from Jude, swiping at the corner of my mouth, guilt slinking down my spine. Then the driver got out of the SUV, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Hector straighten his hat as he sauntered up to Jude’s window. I guess he’d finished marking off the crime scene.
“Evening, Jude,” he said, then glanced at me with a steely gaze. “Ella.”
I leaned over across Jude’s lap. “You need to tell Oscar that we’ve been chased all over town by that Jeep Wagoneer I told him about.”
“Jeep… what?” Hector looked confused.
“He’s got the partial plate already,” I said. “Illinois. HMP. Or HMS. But the plate’s missing now. White Jeep Wagoneer, probably early eighties model. Nearly ran us off the road just now.”
“It was speeding, too,” Jude said, as if this would put the nail in the coffin.
“Okay.” He glanced at me, then Jude, and back again. I didn’t think he believed us about the Jeep Wagoneer. “You two really shouldn’t be out here alone. What with—”
He abruptly swallowed what he was about to say next. What with a killer on the loose. He looked at me, then Jude, and it was impossible to know what he was thinking. Did he think I was a suspect just like Oscar did?
He glanced at Jude again. “You all right… Jude?”
“Yeah,” Jude said, nodding.
Hector sent me a glance. “Okay then, well, train’s gone,” he finally said, nodding to the empty tracks and lifted gate. “You two should get home. ’Specially you, Jude.”
What did that mean?
Jude nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said as Hector gave us a stiff nod and walked back to his car.
“I think Hector is worried I’m going to murder you,” I told Jude.
“He is not,” Jude scoffed. Jude checked both directions along the train tracks four different times before he carefully hit the gas and set the Volvo into motion. His inner grandma driver had returned.
“Can I drive?” I asked him.
“Absolutelynot,” Jude declared, sending me a pretty vicious side-eye. He focused on the road, but after a second, sent me another furtive glance. “So… uh, are we going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I asked, pretending to pick lint off my pants.
“The, uh…” Jude struggled to say it out loud.
