Page 24 of Sterling Fight

“I said I had a friend in need of assistance.”

His silence after his simple explanation speaks volumes. He didn’t tell them more. Perhaps they didn’t ask.

“Anyway, I set you up in the guest room.” Despite the low light in the room, Judd looks wary a moment and he bows his head, fiddling with something in his hand. “And I have this for you.”

He holds up the item which I quickly see is a folded piece of paper between his forefinger and the middle one. Cautiously, I take it from him, but I don’t open it.

I hardly move. The way Judd is looking at me, I’m trapped in the corner of this chaise lounge. Or maybe it’s that I feel safer than I’ve ever felt. The energy around us crackles again and I lick my lips, watching him watch my mouth. I clutch the book in hand, which presses on his jacket which I’m still wearing, and each item feels like a layer I want Judd to unwrap and set me free.

I blink against the thought.

I’m not caged. I’m single and at liberty to do as I please. Which means I have the free will to leave . . . or stay.

“Thank you,” I whisper, finding my voice rough and low, and also afraid to crack this new silent tension surrounding us. One that feels like it could snap at any second, and yet I don’t want it to break.

I don’t want to want Judd Sylver.

My heart cannot take the possibility he might reject me again.

Even with this kindness. Even with this act. I remind myself Judd has wrecked me in the past.

“Sleep on it,” Judd whispers eventually, his voice deep like his throat is clogged. “And sleep well.”

“You too,” I whisper, still struggling as I watch him stand. His full height could feel imposing and yet I suddenly want nothing more than Judd to climb up on this chaise and cover me. Blanket me in his warmth instead of his suit jacket. Remove this awful dress and lay me bare on the velvety seat.

And those thoughts should not be filling my head.

Judd nods once, slips his hands into his pockets, and turns to walk away, while I glance down at the book in my arms and slip the folded paper he handed me into the pages, like a bookmark.

Then I curse the book for the fantasy it placed in my mind.

The one where Judd would not have left but picked me up like his future-bride-to-be and carried me to his room.

Silly romance novels.

I swing my legs over the side of the chaise and stand, escorting myself to the assigned guest room.

In the morning, I better appreciate this room. The four-poster bed is made of dark mahogany but delicately carved and antique-looking. Across the room is a low dresser that appears to match the bed set and beside it is an overstuffed bedroom chair and ottoman with violets on the fabric. The room is painted light purple, corresponding with the lightest shade of violet on the chair. The space is pretty, feminine and sweet, and for half a minute, I wonder if it was intended for someone else.

Not wishing to think about Heather, I sit upright and toss off the thick white duvet. Last night, I hadn’t bothered to unpack my suitcase or wrestle into pajamas. Instead, I simply stripped out of the custard-colored creation, shedding it like I’d scrape the inside of anything holding such a filling, and left the dress in a heap on the floor. I climbed into this bed, which might be the most luxurious mattress I’ve ever slept on, and fell into a restful sleep.

In only my underwear, I turn toward the nightstand where a small violet plant sits in a milk-glass pot. Beside it is the paperback from last night and the note peeking above the edge, reminding me I’d never read it.

I easily pull the sheet free and unfold it.

Will you date me for ten days? Check yes or no.

I giggle. Like a schoolgirl receiving a note from her secret crush, passed across the desks in the back of a classroom. Covering my mouth, as if to contain the childlike sound, I snort next.

Oh my gosh. Judd Sylver actually wrote me a note similar in fashion to the ones I once wrote him. And . . . I do a double take at the paper.

The four-by-six sheet has light blue lines like traditionally lined notebooks, but it’s the unicorn beneath the lines that catches my eyes. The one with a pastel swirl of color on its unique horn and the likeness of a white stallion that takes my breath away.

The paper is exactly the same as the one I once used to ask Judd if he’d be my friend on National Make a New Friend Day.

And it’s the exact same unicorn with faded lines over it that is inked on Judd’s bicep.

Suddenly, I’m leaping from bed, rustling through my suitcase and rushing into the bathroom to quickly take care of business. Then I’m marching into Judd’s great room prepared to demand answers when I’m stopped in my tracks.