Page 25 of Sterling Fight

Judd stands in his kitchen with his back to the hallway I exit. He’s wearing a black wife-pleaser tank and low-slung gray sweats that accentuate the firmness of his ass. His legs look long but thick in the loose pants. His upper body a sculpture of perfection. And those brightly colored arms remind me why I stomped out of my room.

As I near the island, Judd spins and flinches. “Jesus.”

“No. Genie.” I choke on my own joke. “Did you forget I was here?”

But then I remember why I’m standing here. The thoughts colliding in my head. Why? What? How? I don’t know if I’m irritated or aroused, and I hate that I can’t distinguish between the two. Maybe I’m both.

“Explain.” I hold up the note and rustle the paper. Then I point forcefully at his upper arm. “And explain.”

“Good morning, Genie. How did you sleep?” Judd’s mouth turns up on one side. A devilish smirk if I’ve ever seen one, and yet, I’m not certain I’ve ever seen that look on anyone. Nor reacted to the curve of someone’s lips the way I am right now.

“Judd,” I moan. “Do not good morning me.” I wave the paper in my hands again.

“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

“That bed was heaven.” I give him my own smirk and cross my arms, arching a brow. Your turn.

Judd ducks his head and smiles a little wider. Just a sliver. Then his mouth twists, and he looks back at me. His cheeks turn a vibrant shade of pink and he tilts his face away from me. His lips move. The sound incoherent.

“What?” I chuckle, holding my hand cupped around my ear.

Judd clears his throat and looks directly at me. “I might have a notebook with unicorn paper in it.”

I laugh loud and spastic, choking on the sound. “Why?” Maybe he has nieces and nephews who love unicorns.

“Because you had one.”

My laughter sputters out. I blink a few times uncertain I’ve heard him correctly. I’m definitely confused. “When I was, like . . . eight?”

“And I was ten.” Judd continues to hold his gaze on me, but sadness pinches his brows and dulls those bright eyes. “You asked me to be your friend then.”

I huff out a laugh. “You remember that?” I uncross my arms and grip the back of a highbacked stool, suddenly feeling like I need something to anchor me.

“No one has ever asked me to be their friend like that.” He doesn’t look away from me. Although his words are soft, his focus is hard on me.

“With unicorn paper?” I lift the sheet once more.

Judd shakes his head and drops his gaze.

I wait out an explanation, thoroughly frustrated, before reminding him of one more detail. “You said you couldn’t be friends with a girl.”

His head snaps upright and Judd braces his hands on the kitchen island. “I was wrong to say that.” His face morphs from distress at the memory to something darker before he closes his eyes and shuts me out a second. When he opens them again, those same eyes shift once more, pleading with me. “I’d like a second chance.”

“At friendship?” I confirm, my shoulders lowering, my voice still tight.

“At everything.” His gaze remains fixed on me, but his voice is low.

I want to ask what’s everything. What does he mean? What does he want? Then, his phone rings, vibrating almost violently on the countertop.

“Shit,” Judd mutters, closing his eyes for another second, before reaching for the phone and answering it. “Yep.”

That single growled word is not the friendliest greeting, but then Judd hangs his head, going from irritated to tortured within seconds. He leans forward, bending at the waist and bracing his forearms on the island, then removes the phone from near his ear and taps it against his forehead a few times, while closing his eyes one more time.

Suddenly, he stands to his full height, puts the phone back to his ear and glances at me and holds. “Yep.” Still watching me, he says. “We’ll be there.”

He clicks off the call and tosses the phone to the countertop.

“We’ve been summoned to the weekly family meal at my brother’s house.”