6. Jude

SIX

JUDE

I knocked on Brooke's door and leaned against the jamb, waiting. When she didn't answer right away, I pulled out my phone to text her that I was here and then opened the stupid app again. My conversation with Natalie had fizzled out, so I tried one with a girl named Michaela. After she'd asked me why I was on the app, I told her it was to find something casual, thinking it was best to be honest. So when she responded with the question What do you want? I answered Sex.

I supposed that was not the right thing to say because she'd never responded.

Brooke finally opened the door in a flurry. "Hey! Hi, sorry. I was naked and doing my hair, so I had to put clothes on and?—"

"Settle down, honeybee. It's all right."

She took a breath, her shoulders rising high. She puffed up her cheeks and blew it out, visibly relaxing. Then she smiled at me. "Hi."

"Hi."

She gestured for me to head inside her condo, the familiar smell of lavender enveloping me .

Brooke had worked her way up from a rented little plot of land, a few square feet where she grew a handful of vegetables for herself while she was still at her nine-to-five, to owning her own farm, managing three employees, and cultivating I didn't know how many crops throughout the year, as well as maintaining colonies of bees.

It was a literal and figurative statement, my nickname for her. She was busy as a bee.

She offered me a can of her favorite sparkling water. "Where are the kids tonight?"

"Staying at my parents' house. They're having a camp-out in the living room with a movie marathon, so we'll see how my dad does with a sleeping bag on the floor."

"Even my back hurts thinking about it," she said, directing me to follow her to her bedroom. I'd been to her home many times, but there were only a handful that I'd actually stepped foot in her bedroom.

Once when she'd needed help putting together furniture. Another time while she was away, I'd been charged with taking care of Dorothy, and that little heathen somehow got herself trapped in the bathroom. The last time was when Brooke had had a stomach bug, and I'd popped over to bring her some groceries.

I had never, in all our years of friendship, entered her bedroom to hang out.

I didn't know how I felt about that.

But…I didn't hate it.

"So what's your future husband's name?" I asked, flopping on the bed, gathering Dorothy in my arms. She lifted her paw as if to swat at me, but I dragged my hand over her head, and she purred before nuzzling my palm. Brooke shook her head in amusement at us then disappeared into her walk-in closet. "Cole."

"And what's Cole like?"

"I don't know. That's what the date's for. "

I huffed and cracked open the strawberry mango water. For a person who analyzed every decision, she was certainly jumping into dating headfirst.

"What do you think of this?" She ducked out of the closet, holding up a shiny gold top. She wore a lot of yellows and golds and always looked good in them.

"I like it," I told her, moving back against the headboard and crossing my legs at the ankles. Dorothy splayed out in my lap.

"You don't think it's too dressy?"

Like I knew. I pointed at my Macho Man T-shirt in answer, and she tilted her head back, laughing as she pivoted back to her closet. She reappeared after a few moments with a dress in her hand. "How about this?"

"I don't know. I guess it's nice, but it's hard to tell on the hanger."

She conceded the point with a dip of her chin and disappeared again. The next time she walked out of the closet, she wore the dress, a plain black top with thick straps and a skirt covered in pink and purple flowers.

She twirled around. "What do you think?"

"I like it. The bottom's really shiny."

She gripped the side of the skirt, examining it. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No."

"You hesitated. Why'd you hesitate?"

I scrubbed my hand through my beard. "I don't know. I guess…it feels dressy? Where are you going?"

"We're meeting for drinks."

"What else you got?"

She spun back around, kicking off a fashion show.

She changed into another dress, this one with tiny straps and buttons along the front. It floated around her legs when she strutted across the length of her room.

"Reminds me of the beach. "

"That's where I got it." She flashed me a smile, proud of my good observation. Then she held her breasts, lifting them up and letting them drop. "But I can't wear a regular bra with it. Choices are strapless or braless. What do you think?"

I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat, and when it didn't go away, I chugged the water, allowing myself time to formulate a response.

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"You want my opinion on your boobs?"

"Yeah." She shrugged like it was no big deal.

But now that she'd pointed out the fact that she had boobs, I couldn't stop ogling them. At her hard and pointed nipples beneath the flimsy material. What the hell was it made out of? Gauze? Tissues?

She planted her hands on her waist and turned to check herself out in the mirror, shifting side to side, and I blinked away, determined not to think of her boobs or imagine them in any way. "I don't know about the bra, but I don't like the dress." When she whipped back around to me, I backtracked. "I mean, I like the dress. You look great in it, but maybe not the vibe you're going for?"

She seemed appeased, flouncing back into her closet, and I slapped my hand to my chest, feeling a ball of…something there.

I was still thumping on it when she walked back out, this time in a white button-up top that showed absolutely no boob but with a tight blue skirt that displayed a lot of leg.

Brooke was average height, but she stepped into high heels, and suddenly, her legs were a mile long. She sashayed in front of me, and I didn't know why I was there. This was so stupid. Me lying here in her goddamn bed as she showed off all that golden skin.

What was the point?

"What do you think?" She plucked at the skirt, proving exactly how tight it was. Barely any wiggle room .

"I don't know," I said, and her brow rose.

She faced her mirror again. "Might be too business?"

"Too business? What business are you going to do with your ass out like that?"

Her jaw dropped, and I honestly didn't know what I felt worse about. Me checking out her ass or that I was being a dick about it.

Then she burst out with a big guffaw, and the shame dissipated. "I guess my butt has gotten bigger since the last time I wore this."

I had the urge to point out her butt was fine, but I didn't want to inadvertently confess this fashion show had generated some new and awkward feelings about my friend. I crossed my arms as she disappeared into her closet for another round.

"How's it going on your end?" she asked, out of sight. "Any connections on the app yet?"

"Not a one." I could hear the clang of hangers and the rustle of fabric.

"What?" She stuck her head out, the angle revealing more of herself than I thought she intended, in only a beige bra with lacy sides.

For fuck's sake.

"How is that possible?" she asked, and I shook my head, shifting my attention to her closet only once I knew she was safely back inside.

"How is what possible?"

"How are you not finding someone?"

"I don't know. I screw it up when I start talking to them. I get all…" I trailed off as she sauntered out in the gold tank top she'd shown me earlier and dark jeans that sat high on her waist and flared out at the bottom like some cute disco chick.

"Get all what?" she prodded, circling to the mirror, brushing her hands over her hips and thighs. I wasn't exactly a fashion plate, but the color of her top brought out the gold and honey strands of her dark hair that she'd curled in waves around her shoulders. It also highlighted the column of her throat—since when I found a throat attractive, I had no idea—and the peek of her cleavage. She tucked the bottom of the tank top into the waistband of the jeans, right behind the button, and turned to me with her arms out. "What do you think?"

What did I think? She was gorgeous.

And I didn't know if I was allowed to think that. If I even should think that.

I shook my drink can to see if it had any water left inside. It didn't. Which was unfortunate because my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. So instead of answering verbally, I held my thumb up, and she grinned, twisting away from me once more. She fingered a few pieces of jewelry hanging on a tree-like thing on her dresser. "So, tell me what's going on? Why don't you have a date yet?"

"I don't know," I grumped, and she glanced over her shoulder at me.

I didn't like how her brows drew down, like she could tell that I wasn't being honest.

That I had a hard time keeping my gaze off her ass in those jeans.

She slid a few bracelets on her wrist. "Are you getting matched?"

"Yeah."

She rolled her hand in the air, motioning for more.

"I'm not so great at talking."

"Since when?" She poked the tiny bee earrings I'd given her into her earlobes. We didn't often give each other gifts, but when I'd spotted those at a craft market last year, I'd bought them immediately.

I sighed, suddenly not quite comfortable talking about this with her. "I'm bad at messaging with them. It's awkward. "

After draping a long necklace with a turquoise pendant around her neck, she returned to her closet to fetch a pair of tan sandals with thick soles. Fully outfitted, she posed with her hand on her hip. "How do I look?"

Hot.

She looked hot.

She didn't need the makeup, but the smoky eyes and glossy lipstick plus the clothes… Damn, she was a bombshell.

I cleared my throat. "Great."

Satisfied, she sat next to me on her bed, holding her palm up. "Lemme see."

"What?"

"The messages. Lemme see what they say."

I opened up the app then handed my phone over before scooting Dorothy off my lap. She stuck her tail up, obviously miffed at being pushed aside.

Brooke scrolled for a few seconds, and I definitely did not let my eyes dip down to the dark arrow of her cleavage. Didn't think twice about how her thigh touched mine. Or how she smelled so good.

Nope.

None of the above.

"Oh my god," she snickered. "It's like you've never flirted before."

I dropped my head back, glowering up at the ceiling. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"That you've never flirted?"

"I was a fifteen-year-old kid the last time I flirted."

She breathed deeply and audibly through her nose then moved even closer to me, her shoulder, hip, and leg right up against mine. She held out my cell phone so we could both see it. "What about her? Melissa?"

We had matched but had yet to start a conversation, so Brooke began typing. "Pretend like you're talking to them in person. Whatever you'd say to their face, write it here. "

She tilted the screen so I could read her first message to my next match. Hey, Melissa! Love your profile picture. Looks like Italy, is that right?

That did sound like something I would say. When Melissa didn't respond right away, Brooke tossed my phone onto my stomach and petted Dorothy's back. "Be your honest and fun self. They'll be falling all over themselves to get to you."

Right . "Until they ask me what I want, and I tell them the truth."

"The key is to let them know what you want without coming right out and saying it," she explained while she picked up a purse, stuffing a few things from the top of her dresser inside it.

"I have no idea how to do that," I said, and she motioned for me to follow her out of her bedroom before flicking off the light.

"You gotta get them to read between the lines. You want sex without commitment, right? So compliment their looks, especially things that make a person think about sex. Tell her she's got great lips, kissable mouth, or something like that."

I swiped my thumb over my own mouth, letting Brooke's advice sink in, ignoring how kissable she looked.

"Ask subtle questions about what she likes. If she's a cuddler or if she minds PDA."

I didn't know if those prompts were general or specifically designed, because I was a cuddler and I enjoyed some PDA. More likely, it was because she knew me and wanted whomever I hooked up with to be a fit for me. As opposed to some random girl I wouldn't get along with.

Which made me grateful I'd made this pact with Brooke.

She had my back.

"Then once you've eased her in, hit her with the Do you kiss on the first date? And Have you ever had a one-night stand? " At the front door, she spun around to face me. "No sending nudes unless they ask for them. "

I scowled. "Is that really a thing people do?"

She nodded with faux solemnity. "Yeah, that's really a thing people do."

"Why? Dicks are ugly."

She smiled impishly. "Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, no?"

"If you say so."

She gripped my bicep, squeezing. "I have faith in you, young padawan."

"You know," I started, pointedly dragging my gaze down her body. "This gold is reminding me of Princess Leia. You wearing the buns and bikini next Halloween?"

"Nobody wants to see these thirty-five-year-old tits stuffed into a tiny bikini."

Since we were apparently crossing all the lines tonight, I told her the truth. "You'd be surprised."

Then as if to prove a point, she bent over, shimmying a bit while fiddling with her bra, before standing upright once again and turning to the side. "How do they look?"

Tempting, I didn't say. Grabbable, I thought. "High and tight."

"Perfect." She opened her door, waving for me to go ahead of her.

"What time is Cooper coming?" I asked as she locked up.

"Cole," she corrected, "and he's not."

The condominium had three floors, and although we could have taken the steps, we waited for the elevator instead. It was faster.

"Why isn't he picking you up?"

She tossed me a confused frown as we stepped into the elevator. "Because we're meeting there."

"He should be picking you up. It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

She elbowed my side. "You're so sweet and old-fashioned. I love that about you. "

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts. "It's not old-fashioned to pick up a date. It's good manners."

"It is, but I don't want a stranger to know where I live. Plus, I don't want to be stuck there if it goes sideways."

I'd never thought of that before. First, because I didn't go on dates, and second, because the only other woman in my life I spoke to regularly was my sister Phoebe, a lesbian who'd been with the same woman for years. I'd never had to imagine all the ways a date might go sideways for a woman out with a man.

"You sure you don't want to bring a sweater or something?" I asked, suddenly very aware of what this Carter was going to be seeing when he met Brooke. A beautiful woman with a low-cut top and a bra that did magnificent things for her thirty-five-year-old tits.

Men were dogs.

I should've told her to go with the white button-up.

"No, I'm good." She smiled cheerfully, stepping off the elevator. "You know I run hot."

I did. I knew besides generally being warm all the time, she experienced occasional hot flashes. Even with all the medication she was on to keep her menopause symptoms in check.

I walked her to her car and opened the door for her. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

She sat down behind the wheel, tipping her head back to meet my gaze. "Thanks for coming over and helping me."

"Of course. Any time."

After shutting the door, I waited until she buckled up, reversed out of her parking spot, and hooked a left onto the street to get into my own car, realizing that I'd never wished her good luck.

I probably should have.

And yet…

I was kind of glad I hadn't.

Fucking Caleb.