Page 88 of Elf-ish

Jude hums, running his hand over his head and mussing up the already rumpled hair. He looks well-rested while freshly fucked, and I fight a smile, knowing I did that to him.

At least for one night.

“Maybe you should bring that uniform with you the next time. We can re-enact the day I had the heart attack.”

“A broken heart,” I correct, both a little thrilled at the mention of a next time, then crushed when I remember what Jude was probably doing when he had the stress episode.

He brushes off my correction and continues to give me that twitchy smile, which grows a little wider.

“You could pretend to be my angel. Maybe kiss me this time.”

The reminder of what I’d actually done, but haven’t owned up to yet, slaps my cheeks.

“Yeah.” I choke. “Pretend.” Pretend to do something I already did.

“You okay?” Jude tilts his head, staring at my face, which I’m certain gives me away.

“I’m good. It’s just early. I need coffee.” I roll my eyes and tug at the quick braid I made of my hair.

Jude tosses back the sheet over his lap and slips from the bed, prowling toward me with a seductive gleam in his eyes. He cups my jaw and gives me a quick kiss.

“Would you be interested in attending a hockey game with me sometime?”

“Sure.” He knows I’m not a hockey fan, but he’s asking me to do something with him. Something that interests him.

“How about Tuesday night?”

“Let me check my schedule and get back to you.” I’m supposed to have holiday-escape drinks with a few girls this week.

Jude’s face falls a little bit, but he quickly gives me one of his practiced smiles. Because I don’t like the look, I run my thumb along his lips, intending to loosen them. Instead, he leans forward and kisses me with a broad sweep of his tongue.

A hockey game feels very dating-ish, but I don’t mention it. We established last night that we aren’t pretending. We are friends.

Maybe a date is a benefit.

chapter 27

[Jude]

When I pick Angelica up at her place, I’m nervous, which is ridiculous. It’s not like I’ve never had a date. I’ve attended plenty of charity events and expensive dinners, but this somehow felt different.

The hockey game was personal. I loved the sport and was an excellent armchair player for someone who never learned to skate well.

I also had something for her, but I didn’t know how she’d feel about it.

When she opens her door, she’s wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater that hangs long over her curvy form with a pair of black leggings and knee-high boots. I’d skip the game and beg her to keep the boots on and remove the rest if the game didn’t suddenly feel like an important step in proving myself to her.

I could go on a regular date, especially with someone I enjoyed being around.

“You look . . . casual,” she teases as she leans back and gestures for me to enter her place. I’m wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with Chicago’s professional hockey team logo on the front. Underneath, I wear a second shirt because I don’t want to take my jacket into the stadium.

“And you look beautiful,” I state, leaning forward to kiss my favorite freckle.

When I pull back, we just stare at one another a second, fighting smiles and failing.

“I have something for you.” I hold up the item, clutched in my sweaty palm.

“Since I knew you weren’t really a fan of hockey, I didn’t think you’d have anything to wear to the game, so I brought you this.”