CHAPTER NINETEEN Jude

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jude

"This is for real, then?"

"He talked about her on TV, Jas. TV!" Cait claps her hands excitedly. "It has to be real."

"Yeah, but it could have all been for show. Something Dylan cooked up."

"True, but I don't think so. I think it might be the real thing. His eyes when that Timmy douchebag talked about her ... He's so smitten."

"He's so sitting right here. You both know that, right?"

My siblings shrug, neither of them caring.

I shake my head, lifting my fresh, hot coffee to my lips and taking a sip.

It burns, but it's necessary, especially after the late flight into New York last night.

When I stepped onto the plane, I had every intention of sleeping in my own bed last night, but the longer I sat there, the more I missed Olive. I knew I had to see her, no matter how late it was.

And it was worth it just to see the look in her eyes when she opened the door.

Sleeping naked next to her was just a bonus.

"He's smiling," Cait whispers to Jasper.

"Has anyone ever told him he has a creepy smile?"

"Has anyone else told either of you that you suck?"

They shrug again.

I roll my eyes, picking up my fork and stabbing at my slice of fudge.

We're sitting in Cait's bakery, just like before, waiting for Dylan to show up. She bombarded me with messages this morning, begging to meet with me, Jasper, and Cait. So here we are.

"What did Dylan want again?" my sister asks, taking a sip of her own coffee. She's wearing her apron, fully intending to open the shop again after we leave.

"Yeah, this is starting to feel all very Mafia of us," Jasper chimes in. "Having secret meetings in the bakery with your grumpy publicist."

"She's not grumpy. She just doesn't like you, Jasper."

He grunts. "Whatever. Her loss."

"But is it?" Cait eyes our brother, and he flips her off.

We are so mature.

A loud knock sounds at the door, a figure pressed against it.

"Password!" Jasper yells as Cait gets up to unlock it.

"It's me, you dick," Dylan hollers back, and I laugh.

"Told you," Cait throws over her shoulder as she pushes open the door just enough to let the redhead in. "Dylan."

"Hey, Cait. Thanks for closing for us again."

"Anything for my big movie-star brothers." Cait follows Dylan back to the table, taking her seat once again and clearing her throat. "So, what's the meeting about? Do I need the bleach?"

"Do I need to count the money?" Jasper quips.

"Should I flip the restaurant around just in case we get raided?" Cait adds.

Jasper snaps his fingers. "I knew I should have worn a suit."

Dylan's eyes bounce between them, then finally land on me. "What the hell are they on about?"

I shrug. "That's for the family to know."

Cait and Jasper exchange grins, and Dylan shakes her head, tossing her hands in the air like she's already done with us.

I don't blame her.

"Anyway," my trusty right-hand woman says, "I wanted to get your thoughts on Olive."

I groan, tossing my head back. "We've already been through this. It's my life, and I get to choose who I call my girlfriend. End of story."

"Girlfriend?" Dylan's eyes are twice their normal size. "I didn't realize it has progressed that far."

"It's new," I mumble.

"Super new," Jasper adds.

"Like last night new." Cait bounces her brows.

I don't bother correcting them, mostly because I know the point is moot. They know I came straight here from her place, but they don't know the details and they don't need to know them.

"Oh. I see." Dylan folds her hands over the table. "So, if it's that serious, then you must have invited her to the premiere." She pulls a tablet from her bag and starts poking at the screen. "I'm going to need her dress size and her information so I can coordinate things with the makeup artist and designer."

I don't answer her because I don't have an answer for her.

Dylan doesn't miss it.

She lifts a brow my way. "You did invite her to your premiere, right? Because it's in a week and a half, Jude. We need to get to work on this."

"I, uh, haven't."

Cait gasps like the drama queen she is, and Jasper laughs, seeming to enjoy watching me squirm under Dylan's ire. Or at least, he's laughing until she turns her burning stare toward him; then suddenly, he's not laughing anymore at all.

Ha! Take that, big brother.

"Jude?" Dylan asks, bringing my attention back to her. "You're not asking her?"

"I didn't say that. I just said that I haven't. Yet. I haven't asked her yet."

"But you're going to, right?"

"Of course," I say quickly, though I'm not certain I actually mean the words.

I want to invite Olive. Of course I do. But I'm also absolutely fucking terrified of dumping her into this world any more than I already have. I grew up in this. She didn't. It's one thing to be photographed wandering the streets, but it's a whole different thing actually walking a red carpet together. Especially when I know I'm going to have to leave the day after to start the international tour.

She said she was all in, but would this be pushing it too far?

"Well, you need to get on it. We don't have much time before the event, and if this is where we're going to be debuting your relationship, we need to make sure she looks red-carpet worthy."

She already does.

That's what I want to scream at her, but I don't. Part of me understands where Dylan is coming from. She wants this to be perfect for us, and I do too.

"I'll ask her," I promise. "Tonight."

It's a lie to get her off my back, but she doesn't need to know that. I'll ask Olive, but it won't be tonight. I'll do it on my own timeline.

"Good." Dylan clears her throat. "Now, on to the next item of business ... Your parents will be at the premiere, of course. Let's make sure that's not the first time they're meeting Olive, okay? We don't need a meltdown from her in front of cameras."

"Easy, Dylan," Jasper says. "She's not going to melt down. Olive will be fine."

"And how do you know?" She glares over at Jasper. "Have you met her?"

"Well, no." He shifts under her gaze.

"I didn't think so." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "You'll fix that, too, right?"

I know Dylan's not trying to be mean. Really, she's being nicer than the media is going to be to Olive—I know that. But I feel like I'm being bombarded with all this at once.

Maybe I shouldn't invite her ... Maybe this is too much for someone not involved in the industry. Maybe ...

I shake my head.

No.

If Olive said she's in, then she's in. I trust her to know what she can and can't handle. She's a model; this can't be that different.

"We'll be ready for the premiere," I promise Dylan.

I just hope I don't have to break my promise.

"Hey, I— Whoa! Jude!"

I slam the door closed behind Olive after I tug her safely inside my apartment.

I press a quick kiss to her stunned face, then grab her hand once more and lead her farther inside.

"What's going on?" she says, trailing after me. "Why are you in such a rush?"

"Because I have to tell you something that might make you freak out, and we only have a few minutes to get through the initial freak-out."

"Tell me what? What freak-out?" Olive wrenches her hand from mine, stopping. "What is even happening right now, Jude?"

I blow out a breath, hands on my hips. "We ..." I shake my head. "I have a premiere next week, though I'm sure you're aware of it."

A smile pulls at her lips. "I might have heard a thing or two about it. Is that why you're freaking out?"

"Yes? No? I'm not sure."

"That was very helpful and not at all confusing," she deadpans.

I sputter out a laugh, running a hand through my hair. "I know. I'm sorry. Let me start over."

I cross the distance between us, gently grab her face, and kiss her properly, just as I should have done when I opened the door.

Olive melts against me, gripping my shirt and tugging me closer. I let myself get lost for a moment, loving how soft her long brown hair is between my fingers. Savoring how her body feels pressed against mine, even though I just saw her yesterday. It wasn't enough then, and it's not enough now, but it's all we have time for.

I pull away, putting distance between us so I don't haul her to my bedroom and finally have my way with her.

We don't have time for that right now.

"Hi," I say softly.

She grins. "Hi back. What's going on?"

"Well, funny story ..." I wince. "I sort of invited my entire family over here to meet you because I have a premiere next week, and I want you to be my date, and they're going to be there, and I didn't want that to be the first time you met everyone with all the cameras watching." I suck in a breath. "So, yeah, that's what's happening."

Olive's brows slowly inch upward, her tongue poking out and sliding along her lips. "Did you ... did you just ask me to be your date to a movie premiere?"

"Well, technically, I think I told you that you were going to be my date."

"Is that so?"

"Yep." I laugh, not able to keep up the ruse. "No. Not at all."

"So do we want to try that again?"

"Yes." I close the distance between us again, because I must be a masochist, and slide my hands into her hair, tipping her head back so I can look into her almost-too-blue eyes. "Olive O'Brien ... will you be my date to my movie premiere?"

"Yes."

"Really?" I don't know why I'm surprised, but I am. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to fully immerse herself into this world, especially not with how I'm acting right now.

"Really." She nods. "I told you before that I was okay with this all, and I mean it. I'm in, Jude. All in."

All in.

Her words give me a peace I didn't know I needed.

"I'm glad. Because, Olive?"

"Yeah?"

"My parents are already here."

I have no clue why I was so worried about Olive meeting my family. If this conversation I'm witnessing bears any meaning, then I had nothing to worry about.

"You're telling me you had several chickens named absurd things like Tender, Thigh, and Nugget—and then you had one lone little chicken named Toby?" My dad throws his ever-graying head back with laughter, slapping his knee, shaking the whole couch with the gesture. "That's amazing."

Olive shrugs from her perch on the armchair, then takes a sip of the wine I bought just for her. She doesn't even look a little nervous sitting next to the famous Joel Rafferty. It's like she was meant to be part of this family all along, which is strange. I've dated in the past and had a steady girlfriend in college, but even she didn't fit in with my family like this. She was always nervous around my parents and even worse around Jasper. She would get tongue tied anytime he was in the room. When this continued after nine months together, I knew there was no way we could keep things going. She'd never be ready for what life in the limelight entails.

That seems to be my dating life in a nutshell—either women not prepared for this outlandish world I live in or women entirely too excited about it, eager for what they can get from it.

Olive, though ... It's like she doesn't care about my parents' fame at all. Or Jasper's. And especially not mine.

I've never been happier for it.

"You should hear what I named my horses."

"Oh, I have to hear this."

My dad leans forward as Olive launches into her horse names, all of them just as ridiculous as the chickens'. They keep going back and forth, coming up with new names for new horses that will never exist, both laughing harder the longer the list grows.

"She seems really sweet," my mother says, stepping up beside me where I'm resting against the kitchen counter, watching Olive and my father bond.

Truthfully, she's gotten along with everyone so far. My mother wrapped her into a warm hug the moment we waltzed into the living room. Cait was just excited that another woman other than my mother and Dylan—who is hanging out on the balcony, likely negotiating a new deal over the phone at this very moment—was present. And Jasper was ... well, Jasper. He said hi, then asked for booze.

I turn to my mother, taking in how she looks a little older since the last time I saw her four months ago. Some fresh lines grace her eyes, and new streaks of gray wind through her hair. But it doesn't matter how old Camilla Rafferty gets—she will always be the kind of beautiful people talk about.

"She is," I tell her. "And funny. Smart too. Gorgeous. All the best things wrapped into one."

My mother grins. "You like her."

"I do." There's no point in denying it. It's true. I like Olive. A lot.

"And this ..." My mother nods toward Olive. "This is real?"

I know what she's asking.

Can we trust her?

She's worried over the same thing Dylan is—that Olive is using my name and fame to grow her own audience.

But just like Dylan, my mother has nothing to worry about. Olive isn't like that.

"It's real."

My mother smiles. "Good. I'm glad. Because she makes your father laugh, which we both know is next to impossible."

My father is a serious man and has been for as long as I can remember. It's not that he never has fun, because he does; he just also holds himself to high standards and is well aware that he has an image and family to protect. He comes off a little abrasive most of the time, but once you get to know him, you find out he's just a big softy.

Like he's being with Olive right now. He's laughing and relaxed. She's fitting right in, and I couldn't be happier.

"Please tell me we get to keep this one." My sister squeezes herself between us. "She has chickens, Jude. Chickens!"

"Since when do you like chickens?" my mother questions my sister. "I recall you running from them the one time we went to that petting zoo in North Carolina."

"That was forever ago. We've made peace since then."

"Yeah, Mom. Get with the program," Jasper says, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing my whiskey from my hand, tossing it back. "Gotta jet, little brother."

"Where are you going?"

Jasper looks over my shoulder as he says, "Hot date."

Dylan huffs, pulling our attention as she saunters back into the room. When she notices our eyes on her, she shrugs, then downs the rest of her wine and reaches for the bottle.

Oh, there is definitely something going on there.

"Jas ..." I step closer to him. "Please tell me you're not banging my publicist."

"I'm not." He grins wolfishly. "Yet."

"Jasper."

He laughs, then claps me on the shoulder. "It's fine. I promise."

But it doesn't seem fine. Dylan's been extra moody lately, and I have a sinking feeling it has everything to do with Jasper.

He gives my sister a hug, then pecks my mother's cheek before interrupting Olive and Dad to tell them bye.

Then he's gone, and they dive right back into their conversation like he never bothered them.

"I do really like her," Cait comments, still watching as my dad tells Olive the story of when their beloved Tiffany vase was broken. I swear he's only telling it because he thinks one of us will confess to breaking it, but I know Cait is holding on to the real details until it'll benefit her to spill the beans of who the culprit is. "And not only because of the chickens."

"I was just telling him the same thing," Mom agrees. "He seems quite smitten with her."

"He's very smitten, apparently," Dylan says, strutting up next to us.

She's been watching Olive all night with shrewd eyes, but I'd bet anything she can't find a single thing not to like about her.

I'd wager the same for me. There isn't a thing about Olive I don't like. Her sense of humor, her smarts, her smile, her beauty, the way she's taking all this in stride ... I like it all.

As if she can tell I'm thinking of her, she looks my way. Her eyes sparkle from the wine, and there's a smile pulling at her lips. A secret smile just for me.

She's gorgeous, and she's all mine.

"Is she ready for next week?" my mother asks, not missing the moment between us.

"She is," I tell her, and I mean it.

Olive's ready, and so am I.

We might be fools for this, diving headfirst into the spotlight, but for the first time in a long time, I'm okay with being a fool. Excited about it, even.

And I have no doubt it has everything to do with the woman sitting next to my father.

I don't know what I've gotten myself into with Olive, but I've never been so thrilled for the unknown in my life.

Two hours speed by in a blur, and after a lot of ushering on my part, everyone finally files out of my apartment, leaving just me and Olive.

"Finally," I say, pushing off the door I've just locked, then stalking the length of the hallway to the smiling woman at the end of it.

Our lips meet in a frenzy, like we haven't kissed in weeks instead of hours.

It's rushed and sloppy but somehow just as good as it always is.

When we finally part, we're both out of breath.

"Sorry," I say on a laugh. "I just ... Thank you."

"For what?"

"For putting up with them. I'm sure it was a lot."

"You mean, meeting your very famous; very gorgeous; very, very legendary family members on a moment's notice was a lot?"

I grimace. "Did I mention how sorry I was?"

She laughs. "You did, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me."

"You know, if you wanted me out of my pants, Sunshine," I say, following her to my bedroom, "all you had to do was ask."

"That's all it takes?" She stands in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. "Take your pants off, Jude."

I drop my hands to my buckle, tugging at the leather, and she laughs, covering my hands with her own.

"Stop, stop. I was teasing."

"So no sex?"

She shakes her head with a smile. "No sex. I was thinking of taking advantage of that giant tub in the bathroom that's clearly never been used."

"Because baths are lame."

"They are not! I'd kill for a tub like that."

"It's all yours. I'll just be sitting here, not having sex."

"No pouting. I didn't say no sex ever. Just not tonight."

I check my watch. "So in like four hours and forty-three minutes?"

"That's oddly specific."

"That's how long we have until tomorrow. If not tonight, then ..." I lift my shoulders.

"We'll see."

"Four hours and forty-two minutes ..."

"Jude?"

"Hmm?" I look up from my watch just in time to see her pull her shirt over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

My jaw slackens as I take her in, her honey-gold bra so pretty against her soft skin.

"I said no sex, but that doesn't mean we can't do other things."

"‘Other things'? Other things like . . . ?"

She shrugs. "Guess we'll have to find out."

I follow her into the bathroom, then into the tub, where we spend an hour getting dirty before we get clean again, and Olive effectively changes my stance on baths.