Page 53 of The Winslow Brothers

Sophie

My heart pounds, and the heat of his arm bleeds into the palm of my hand.

I cannot fucking believe he noticed such a subtle difference between Belle and me, and beyond that, remembers it weeks later.

None of the men I’ve ever dated has been able to tell us apart, and this practical stranger knows me for me, down to the fucking freckle on my neck.

I have to tell him.

“What is it?” he asks again when my terror robs me of the ability of speech.

I shake my head to clear it, squeeze his arm, and then pull my hand back like it’s been burned when I feel a jolt ofsomethingbetween us.

I mean, what the hell is it with this guy that turns my body into a live wire?

“I…well, I guess I have a bit of a confession to make. IamSophie, obviously, and Belledidget married, but at thebachelorette party at Club Craze…IwasBelle. I mean, I was pretending to be.” I shrug as his eyes widen. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But she freaked out when we got in there about being the center of attention all night and, well, you dancing for her, so she forced me to pretend to be her.” I wince. “So, yeah. That’s probably why you thought I was Belle…because that night…” I shrug again. “I was.”

“Well,shit.”

I nod and wince again. “I’m sorry. But the whole freckle thing?” I wave a hand in the general vicinity of my throat. “That was pretty impressive. Sometimes my own dad has trouble telling us apart, so really, props to you there.”

He smiles then, shaking his head quickly before turning back to his door and climbing out of the cab. My shoulders fall with defeat as I picture him walking up the block and disappearing around the corner.

I wouldn’t blame the guy. I made him think he was crazy, and then shamed him for being an exotic dancer, and then practically obligated him to take me on a date—

“Oh!” I squeal as my door unexpectedly opens beside me, a wave of cold air rushing in from the busy sidewalk.

Jude leans down into the open door and smiles at me. “Are you coming?”

“I…” I pause, looking him in the eyes. “You’re not mad?”

He chuckles. “Are you kidding? I’m fucking thrilled. I’m not crazy, for one. And for two, now I can scrub the idea that I got a little too flirtatious with a soon-to-be-married woman from myconscience. I’m ecstatic. My family will be relieved. My sister, especially, will be overjoyed with the news.”

I stumble to make sense of everything he’s saying, and my heart kicks up in my chest. “You told your family about me?”

He shrugs. “It’s a little weird, but I assure you it wasn’t in any kind of detail. Very informal conversation, really.”

“You have a sister?” I ask, to which he laughs uproariously. “What?”

“I really love that you’re curious, babe. And I’ll be happy to answer your questions. But, uh, do you think maybe you want to let this nice guy pick up another fare while we go inside the bar?”

Whoops. Way to go, Soph.

My cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Jude doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he reaches down with his hand to take my own, helps me from the taxi, and walks me inside.

The lighting is low, but the ambiance is high. The furniture is all carefully selected to look appropriately from the twenties, and all the barstools but two are taken. I’m impressed that they manage to pull this many people into a location that’s not obvious, but apparently, I’m one of the only people in New York who hasn’t gotten with the secret.

“This place is amazing,” I say, already envisioning half a dozen different events I could utilize the space for. “Do you know if they do private events?”

Jude laughs, turning to me and stopping so abruptly that I actually run into his side. It’s awkward, but his smile is enoughto disarm me from completely crumbling. “I’m sorry, but are you working or dating right now?”

I shrug as the corner of my mouth curls up. “I’m self-employed, baby. No matter what else is happening, I’m always working.”

He chuckles, nodding with understanding and turning back to walk toward the bar again, taking my hand in his. It’s such a simple and fanfareless gesture, and yet, my whole nervous system is acting like it did not get the memo.

Geez, chill. He’s just holding your hand.

“I admire your work ethic, Sophie. Now, I have an assumption, but I still feel like it’s always best to ask… What is it that you do for a living?”

---