“At work,” he said. “I don’t have a home lab.”
I still couldn’t believe it.
“What? Did you think I just peered through microscopes all day and night?” Jude scoffed.
I laughed a little. “Uh, yeah. I did, Dr. Cheese.”
“Want a beer?” he asked.
“Desperately.” I hesitated. “But only if it’s not an IPA.”
“Lagers only. Come on.”
We headed downstairs to the fully furnished basement with a large-screen TV and a shelf neatly stacked with board games. Onthe sleek coffee table sat a brass jack-o’-lantern candle holder. It almost looked like a grown-up’s basement, except for theFortune Fatedreplica laser gun hanging on the wall and theFortune Fatedhelmet on top of the neat stack of board games on the shelf.
“Operation?” I asked him, nodding at the stack. “Really?”
“We can play if you really want to,” he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows. “But Ialwayswin. Just ask my nephew.”
“Oh.” I forgot that Jude was an uncle. A niece and a nephew, I thought, from his younger sister, who lived in Chicagoland, one of the western burbs? “And the laser gun? Does it work?”
Jude laughed. “No. But it makes some cool sounds. It’s a limited edition gun. Oscar and I won it in a tournament.”
“Tournament?” I scoffed.
“We came in third place,” Jude protested as he crossed the room toward the countertop bar lined with stools that seemed to be a staple in every Wisconsin basement, as well as a full-sized fridge in the corner.
“Careful, your blerd is showing,” I teased as I pulled it down from the wall. “Hey, this is heavy.”
“Made of actual steel,” he said proudly as I pulled the trigger. The end of the barrel lit up in a flash of red and blue, and the thing made awoo-woosound that any four-year-old would love.
“Spotted Cow?” he asked me, holding up a lager from his fridge behind the granite countertop bar.
“Yes,” I said, grateful for no bitter IPAs. We clinked bottle necks, and I took a swig. I glanced at the Halloween-themed candle holder on his coffee table. “Did you pick out all this? Or did Kenzie?” I asked.
“Are you saying I’m not a grown man who can pick out his own furnishings?” Jude raised an eyebrow.
I laughed a little. “Oh, I forgot we’re talking about you. Did you make a spreadsheet to analyze the best knickknacks for the money?”
Jude laughed a little. “Something like that,” he said. “Also, I might have had help from my mom.”
“How is Phylicia?” I asked him.
“Happily selling real estate,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. He eyed me. “Dad is trying to tell her to slow down since he’d like to retire soon, but you know there’s no doing that with Phylicia.”
I took another sip of my beer and eyed Jude. He definitely looked like a flavor of ice cream I wanted to try. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t admire the way his tight-fitting tee showed off those delts. Maybe Oscar was right. Maybe I couldn’t be trusted around good-looking men. Maybe I did want Jude. That little tease of a kiss told me that Sexy Nerd might be my new favorite flavor.
Jude cleared his throat. “Well, there is one problem,” he said. “Someone will have to sleep on the couch, I think.” He nodded to the dark leather love seat, which probably not even a kindergartner could fully stretch out on.
“Why?”
“I’ll show you.”
Jude turned on his heel and clambered up the stairs. I followed. We arrived in the foyer again and then climbed the stairs up to the landing on the second floor. There were four rooms on the second floor. A bathroom. An office, complete with wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with—there they were!—cheese books. Then an empty room with two paint cans stacked in the corner and drop cloths on the floor. The final room was an actual bedroom, with one queen-sized bed.
“You’ve got a whole house, but one bed?” I asked, astonished.
Jude shrugged. “I’m about to paint the guest bedroom.” That explained the bare room.
