Page 60 of You Had Me at Chocolate

That was utter bullshit. What he’d been feeling wasn’t fucking gratitude. It was love. Jude’s heart almost punched through his ribs it was banging so damn hard at the revelation. Transcended friendship? Oh, Jesus… what an idiot.

He’d fallen in love with her.

This thing he was feeling, as he listened to her causally talk about leaving to go to New York and on vacation to Japan, was like an axe to his fucking heart. Like he was being peeled open. He was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to hold her, wrap her up, and never ever let her go. It boiled like a fever in his blood.

Yeah… not gratitude. Definitely not friendship, either. He loved her.

It rose up like a tide now, filling every nook and cranny in his body from his toes to the tips of his hair. Every cell, every vein, every single cavity. And all the empty spaces that had formed over the years that he’d filled with stuff hoping it would be enough.

Love coursed like a river—true and deep and sure.

And she was planning her life without him. Of course she was. And, with a hot, sinking feeling in his gut he knew he wasn’t going to wrap her up, he was going to have to sit back and wait and hope and be her goddamn friend, existing in that space, because she’d been on the cusp of all this when they’d reconnected and she deserved to have it all. He was finally living his dreams—what kind of an asshole would he be to begrudge her, hers?

If you loved something you set it free, right? Even if it killed him in the process.

And in the meantime he’d follow his path. Establish the inn. Work on him. Follow his dream and make it happen as she had urged him the fateful night of her birthday party. And maybe, one day, if he was lucky, she might come back to him.

“Sorry about that.”

Clementine rolled away, placing her phone on the bedside table and Jude stared at the the length of her spine and the curve of an ass cheek as the sheet slipped.

“Japan, huh?” He kept his voice even as she joined him, snuggling into his side.

Jude shut his eyes and reveled in the heat and press of her as his arm curled around her shoulder and a sense of rightness pervaded every inch of his body.

Christ, how had he been so blind?

“I don’t know… maybe, if it works out. There’s too many variables at the moment. Mom and New York. Sondra called a few days ago about the possibility of short-term contract work at the Met so I guess it could all come together?” She shook her head and her curls tickled his nose. “It would be awesome if it did. I’ve always wanted to go to Japan.”

“It’s an amazing place. And April is cherry blossom season, which is breathtaking.”

She levered herself up on her elbow again, her hair falling forward in a springy mass as she looked down at him. “You’ve been?”

Jude pushed back the curls. She looked so earnest and eager and his heart squeezed. “Yeah, I’ve done some celebrity chef stuff there over the years.”

She sighed. “You’re so lucky.”

He had been lucky. He’d been blessed. Sure, he’d gotten burned out and lost sight of what was important, but there’d been so much good stuff, too. But that wasn’t for now. Right now, he was in bed with the woman he loved and while he might not be able to tell her that, he sure as fuck could show her.

In the morning, they’d have that talk and he’d distance himself with some bullshit about the importance of their friendship but they still had tonight.

“You have no idea,” he said, his fingers trailing down her cheek, over her lips to her jaw. Then, lunging, he flipped her, Clementine laughing as she landed on her back.

“That’s a slick move,” she murmured as he settled between her thighs.

Jude nuzzled her ear. “Plenty more where that came from.”

And he proceeded to show her.

Chapter Ten

The aroma of roasting chestnuts and hot dogs spiced the air as Jude stood on the steps of the courthouse along with his fellow finalists. Behind them in the distance, the looming shape of Copper Mountain stood sentinel over Marietta and all the stroll festivities currently underway. On this cold, crisp, Saturday evening, the snowy peak stood out, ghostlike before it ceded farther downhill to the dark shapes of evergreen conifers, starkly outlined by the three-quarter moon.

Laid out in front of him, the historic hub of downtown Marietta had been transformed into a magical Christmas fair with street vendors selling their wares from hot chocolate and mulled wine to arts and crafts. There were family groups everywhere and the murmur of conversation and laughter mixed with the jingle of sleigh bells and the clopping of horse’s hooves as the hayride picked up more customers. Little pink-cheeked children ate cotton candy with one hand and clutched their precious free photo with Santa they’d had taken in the foyer of the Graff in the other.

Main Street, which was perennially picture-postcard pretty had taken on an extra festive glow. Santa had not long ago led the lighting ceremony and the Christmas lights that had been installed over the past few days had taken everything from merry to radiant with the flick of the ceremonial switch. Even the courthouse façade behind him twinkled gaily.

“And the winner is…”

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