Page 17 of Sterling Fight

“Red, please.”

I cross the room for the bar tucked behind the kitchen, facing the dining area, and make quick work of opening a new bottle.

When I return to the great room, Genie has moved into the space between the back of one couch and the high back stools. She’s still gazing around the room when I stop in front of her.

She accepts the glass of red wine I hand her and then I lift mine, speculating what we should toast to.

“To old friendships?”

7

[Genie]

Friendship is certainly one thing, but fiancée is quite another.

And my mind is still reeling with scenes from the garden party.

My mother’s shrill question about a ring. Heather’s haughty tone when she caught Judd and me in the side yard. Judd’s quiet hesitation.

What do you think?

He meant the ring, right?

Still holding my wine, I stare at Judd. He’s so . . . handsome. Classic looking. All American boy with billionaire vibes. My God, look at this place. But, a melancholy aura surrounds him. Take in the fact I know he’s a fighter and those tattoos add to the edge I saw in him only a week ago. He’s the full package, and a lot to unpack.

“What are we doing?” I whisper.

First, I can’t say Judd and I are old friends. We were friendly. We were in Math Club together. And that’s where I grew bold enough to ask him to his prom. The high school ritual is a rite of passage, and Judd didn’t want to attend. I thought it was more likely he didn’t have anyone to go with to the dance. And I didn’t want him to miss out.

He’d been so aloof throughout most of high school. That dark soul in the back of a classroom with moody eyes and a permanent scowl. However, he wasn’t a troublemaker. He skated underneath the radar. Of teachers. Of admin. Of other students.

But I noticed him. I sensed he was different. Special. Unique. Like a unicorn.

My gaze flits to his covered bicep and Judd sets his glass of wine on the island counter, without taking a sip. He takes my glass from me and sets it down as well, then pulls out one of the stools.

I’m still wearing this atrocious dress in putrid yellow. Judd doesn’t even comment. He grips my waist and hikes me onto the raised seat, then pulls out a stool for himself. We face one another and my left arm rests on the island countertop.

“What do you want us to do?” Not a trace of anything salacious is in his question and yet everything in me lights up.

I could list a few things I want to do with Judd as he is now—a gorgeous man with a body that rocks.

I hadn’t missed the tightness of his abs beneath his dress shirt when my arms were wrapped around him while riding his motorcycle. Or the firmness of his thighs pressed against mine as we rode. Even the thumping of his heart was a turn on when he placed my left hand over his chest before we took off.

But Judd and I have some unresolved issues between us. Twenty-two-year-old issues that might best be left alone.

“Maybe we should talk about Heather.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” Judd mirrors my position, and he swipes through his thick hair, brushing back the floppy strands against his forehead. “Honestly, we’re over. We’ve been over for a while, we just needed to have that final conversation.”

The official end. I understand that.

“I’d like to focus on new beginnings,” he says next, his eyes lowering to the ring on my finger.

With some strange instinct, I flex my fingers, as if emphasizing the ring under his appraising gaze.

Once again, I admire the ring as well. The gold band. The lilac-colored gemstone. The ring is simple while lovely.

“If you weren’t planning to marry Heather . . .” Because I distinctly heard that portion of his argument with Heather earlier today—how he would not be asking her to marry him. “Then why did you have this ring at the ready on you?” Had he been planning to ask Heather to marry him at some other time? Before today?