Page 38 of Wanted

"Get ready. I'll be waiting downstairs. We leave in an hour."

Ignoring the way my breathing has grown shallow and my heart beats faster in my chest and whatever the hell that warm feeling is in my stomach, I stretch my legs over the side and climb off the bed. I don't miss the way his eyes drop to the expanse of exposed flesh just south of the hem of his tee.

Nor do I miss how much I like it.

Oh, Frankie. Girl, you are in trouble.

Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I keep my chin high and walk past a rigid Jude on my way to the bathroom. My shoulder brushes against his, and my lungs falter at the accidental touch. If possible, he stands even more stiff as I force myself to stride confidently across the hall.

By the time I shut the door, he still hasn't moved.

Jude parks his serial killer van against the curb in a tidy neighborhood. The closely placed houses remind me a bit of home. That is, if the homes were replaced with trailers in desperate need of some repair. It's not hard to figure out which one we'll be spending the afternoon in if I'm judging by the cars tucked into the short driveway.

"How many family members do you have?"

Despite my earlier attitude, nerves flood my system at being introduced to god knows how many people.

"I have five siblings and my mom. Some of them have spouses and kids too."

"And you guys do this weekly?" I gaze in awe at the vehicles again. The dedication to family feels so foreign to someone who grew up the way I have.

"Try to. I miss once in a while."

"I'm sure things come up when you have as many dogs as you do."

"Yeah." The sound of his door creaking open prompts me to do the same.

I watch through the windshield as Jude walks around the front and stops on the sidewalk. As if realizing I'm not beside him, he turns back.

"Come on, Frankie."

"Just a second," I call out, hating the shake in my vocal cords. For fuck's sake, Frankie, pull yourself together.

I brush my sweaty palms over the borrowed pair of blue jeans. They fit perfectly, so at least one of his sisters or sisters-in-law is my size. I'll have to figure out which one and thank her. They paired nicely with this flowy top. The hem edged in cream lace dips low enough to cover my hips and ass. It's tasteful, and the light, draping sleeves fit nicely over my cast.

They were even thoughtful enough to find a pair of black ankle boots, also in my size. I suspect Jude did some investigating to get that one right.

As the seconds tick past, I realize it's shame that I feel welling up inside me. These people probably think I'm a freeloader, and I don't know how to let them know their generosity is appreciated without overstating it.

"Hey." Jude's gruff voice startles me out of my nervous thoughts. "What's going on?"

"They're going to hate me," I blurt out.

His brows snap together, his expression fixed with confusion. "They're not going to hate you."

"I'm sure they've all heard about me by now, and I can't imagine anything in that story lends them to think good things."

"Lee thought it was fucking hilarious that you stole my van."

"Is that your brother?"

Jude crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels. "Mm-hmm. The oldest. Believe me, he thinks you hanging around me is exactly what I deserve for being a cranky ass."

I can't fight the twitch of my lips. "I guess that makes me feel a little better."

"You have nothing to worry about. My family is excited to meet you."

A sour feeling fills my stomach. "Okay, now I feel worse again."

---