Crash (2 page)

I stretched on my blanket, stomach down, twisting my arms behind me to pull the string free of its tension. In my experience as a seventeen year old girl, seven of those years having boobs that required a bra, undoing that one little knot at the center of your back had about a ninety-five percent accuracy rate of attracting any male within a five beach towel radius. Jude might have been right on the five/six cusp, but it was all I had left. The last trick in my bag.

I made a pillow of my sundress and pretended to be nothing more than concerned with minimizing my tan lines, but as I took a quick survey of the area, every male eye within five beach towels was staring. Except for him.

A few whistles even sounded from his fellow football player’s lips, of which I played ignorant, but still, not the slightest of looks in my direction. One of my friends at my old school had once told me that if ever a day came where our intended male targets didn’t flock our way after this last ditch effort, it would be time to send word to the pope that a miracle needed to be inspected.

Get Rome on the phone because a miracle was playing out in front of me as the only boy I wanted to notice was the only one who didn’t. Darn you, serendipity and soul typhoons.

I’d give him five more minutes before I’d force myself to swallow my pride and make a move. I knew if I had to approach him, I’d likely get denied, but I wasn’t going to let another one of these pass me by. Carpe diem, baby.

I noticed something whizzing above me from the corner of my eye, but it didn’t seem of much importance until a certain body I’d been lusting over snagged it out of the air right before falling back to the earth from his impressive suspension in the air. Or at least falling right over the top of me.

He didn’t crash into me all that hard, leading me to believe it was intentional, but I still managed to shriek like a little girl. I knotted my top back into place while he struggled to reposition himself.

“The name’s Jude Ryder, since I know you’re all but salivating like a rabid dog to know, and I don’t do girlfriends, relationships, flowers, or regular phone calls. If that works for you, I think we could work out something special.”

So that serendipitous moment I’d been angsting over the better part of a glorious summer afternoon? What a waste. There had been nothing on the other side of that loaded look than an opportunistic summer . .  eh-hm
fling
. Lord help me, I was going to become a nun if my male radar didn’t realign towards guys that were not walking penises.

“And I’d give you my name if I actually wanted to pursue anything more with you than telling you to get the hell off of me,” I said, twisting onto my back once I was confident everything up front was covered. However, whether it was my twisting motion or his twisted sense of self, his leg caught my hip as it rotated and followed it all the way around. Super, the boy was all put straddling me now and, despite being angry beyond appeasing, I felt my heart pounding through my chest like it never had.

He smiled down at me. Actually, it was more of a grin. A grin full of attitude and ego. It was a tad sexy too, and it could have been hella sexy if I hadn’t already decided to not fall into this boy’s traps. “I was wondering how long it would take to get you horizontal,” he said, eyes sweeping down to my belly button. “Although I’m not really your missionary style kind of guy.”

Whatever was left of my romantic notions of male chivalry and love at first sight was just obliterated. I’d never verbally admit I was a romantic, that was one of the many secrets I kept to myself, but it was a special ideal and one guy took the last bit I’d clung to.

Pushing his chest, which was like trying to move a tank, I removed my sunglasses so he could see my glare. “Is that because it would require a real, living, breathing female—not one of the imaginary or blow-up kind—to have sex with you?”

He laughed at that, like I’d just said something as cute as a kitten. “No, a supply of girls is never a problem. But if they’re the ones that come aknockin’ at my door, why should I be the one to do all the work?”

That nasty taste in my mouth might have just been a bit of vomit. “You’re a pig,” I said, shoving him again. Harder so my hands slapped his chest, but it was like nothing more than a gust of wind had come at him.

“Never claimed to be anything but,” he answered, raising his hands in surrender when I came at him again with my palms. “I also knew you wouldn’t stop your staring until you learned the cold, hard truth. So, consider yourself warned. I might not be the kind of guy that reads textbooks at the beach,” he said, glancing back at my open book, “but I’m smart enough to know girls like you should stay away from guys like me. So stay away.”

My glare was now officially a glower. “That won’t be a problem once you stop all but holding me down,” I said, waiting for him to move. He did, but it was still with that cocky grin. I
hated
that kind of grin. “And you can consider yourself warned that you are trespassing on my personal property”—I grabbed my pink beach blanket in explanation as an eruption of barking sounded behind me. I knew that dog was a kindred spirit—“and beware of dog.” I sneered up at him as he situated himself beside me, still in a straddling position. “You can go now.”

That wiped the grin from his face. “What?” he asked, the lines of his forehead pulling his gun-metal grey beanie lower. And what kind of a person wore a cotton hat to the beach on a scorching hot day? The mentally deranged ones I need to stay away from, that’s who.

“Scrambo,” I said, waving him off. “I’m done wasting my last few precious minutes of a lovely summer afternoon on you. Thank you for the eye candy distraction, but I can see it’s nothing more than that. Oh, and by the way, your butt is not nearly as impressive up close as it is at a distance.”

I didn’t have time to curse myself for my latest bout of verbal haste because his mouth fell open for a second. It was exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. “You girls speak a language I’ll never understand, but are you saying what I think you are?”

“If it involves you getting up and walking out of my sunshine and my life from here until the end of time, then we’re on the same wavelength,” I answered, sliding farther down on my towel to realign my face with the sun, trying to pretend his face wasn’t the thing naughty thoughts are made of. Save for a long scar that ran the diagonal of his left cheekbone, it could have been classified as mind-dumbingly perfect.

Perfectly not my type. I had to remind myself of that. And convince myself, too.

His eyebrows were still squished together, like he was trying to figure out the most riddling of riddles.

“What’s that dumbfounded look for?” I asked.

“Because I have yet to come across a girl who sends me packing,” he said, looking at me with something new in his eyes.

“So sorry to upend your world of non-respect for women, but it seems my work here is done.” I sat up, shuffling my textbook into my bag.

“What kind of dog is that?” he asked abruptly, taking a seat on the sand beside me. The low notes were gone from his voice.

I peered over at him as I continued tossing my beach day must haves into the bag, gauging to see if he was serious. He’d just gone from all but riding me on the beach to casual conversation. “He’s got a bunch of breeds in him,” I began slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye to see if this was some new trap.

“So he’s a mutt,” he said.

“No,” I said, looking at the shaggy bundle still baring his teeth in Jude’s direction. “He’s well-rounded,” I added.

“Well that’s the best attempt I’ve heard yet of making a piece of shit seem less shitty,” he said, spinning the football on his finger.

“No, that’s my way of seeing something for what it actually is,” I said, sure I sounded more defensive than I’d intended. “That ‘piece of shit,’ I’ll have you know, was hit, kicked, underfed, and lit on fire by his previous owners who dropped him off at the shelter when he had the nerve to devour an unattended tuna fish sandwich. That ‘piece of shit’ was scheduled to be put down today for no other reason than drawing the short straw in life.”

Jude looked away from me, back at the dog. “You just got this guy today?” he asked, making a face. “Out of all the dogs you had to choose from, you picked the one that was the sorriest excuse for a dog I’ve yet to see.”

“I couldn’t let him be killed because the slime of the earth ruined him, could I?” I asked, nearing a wince as I wondered what my parents would say. “I mean, look at him. He’s been brutalized by humans and the only thing he’s concerned about right now is protecting me. How could I not save him?”

“Because he’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” Jude said. “He’s all but hairless and, I don’t want to get any closer because I fear he might rip my balls off, but I’m pretty sure that putrid smell is coming from him. Unless . . .” He leaned into me, moving my hair behind my shoulder as his nose all but connected with my neck. My instant reaction was to shudder, this boy knew what he was doing and how the lightest graze of fingers over just the right patches of skin or a warm breath fogged over the right spot of the neck could all but crush a girl’s most virtuous of intentions, but I fought the shudder down. I wasn’t going to be one of the girls that shuddered in his presence. He didn’t need another boost to that bloated ego. “Nope, I only smell sweet and innocent coming from over here,” he all but whispered against my neck before looking back at the dog. He grinned at me, knowing exactly what he was doing and knowing exactly what I was trying not to do. “I’d suggest taking that flea bag through a doggie car wash a few times.” He laughed as the dog began barking again at Jude’s proximity to me, but he leaned away from me again. “What did your parents think when you brought Cujo home?”

This time I grimaced.

“Ahh, let me fill in the blanks as I’m very familiar with that look. They don’t know their precious daughter snuck behind their backs and brought this animal with a questionable past into her life.”

My grimaced deepened as he verbalized what I liked to sugar-coat.

“And since I’m on a roll here, let me fill in the blanks as to what their reaction will be.” He tapped his chin, looking at the sky. “They’re going to tell you to drop that thing like a bad habit and send him back where you found him.”

I blew out a rush of air. “Probably,” I said, attempting to form a rebuttal that would be convincing with my parents. I already knew dad would be on board by default, but mom was another story and my dad had learned years ago that life wasn’t pleasant if he wasn’t on the same parenting ship as mom.

“So why did you do it?” he asked, still staring at the dog like he was a puzzle. “Because you don’t strike me as the kind of girl that rebels against whatever her parents say.”

“I don’t,” I answered. “But we made kind of a big life change recently and I wasn’t able to give this up.”

“Life change? Give this up?” he repeated. “Okay, my interest was peaked when you shot me down, now I’m absolutely smitten since you made dog adoption out to be a vice.” He grinned over at me from the side and I swore I could feel my stomach bottoming out. “So what’s this big life change you’re up to those pretty little blue eyes in?”

I slid my sunglasses back into position out of principle. If he was going to find a way to be condescending about my eyes, he didn’t get to look into them. “We sold the house I grew up in and moved to our lake place,” I began, trying to sound as carefree as I could about it, “and the community we live in has the most ridiculous, restrictive covenants that don’t allow any kind of fence around the property, so it would only make sense those idiots won’t allow a dog off leash, right?” I was getting worked up just thinking about it, as my hands flying about expressed. “We don’t have a kennel, I can’t keep him inside the house because dad’s allergic, and you try putting a leash on this guy and he all but turns into the Tasmanian devil.” I glanced back at the dog, still eyeing Jude warily. “It’s like the idea of being tied to something sends him over the edge.”

“I know the feeling,” he said, glancing back at the dog with something new in his eyes. Camaraderie, was it?

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, reaching for my melted slurpee. “Already got the spiel about you not one for being tied down to things like girlfriends. No need for the instant replay.”

As I took a long and final sip of blue raspberry syrup, Jude leveled me with a look that held too much emotion for a man of his shallow character. “There are others ways to be tied to something than via a woman. In fact, I’d say I’m tied to just about everything else but a woman.”

Okay, I so wasn’t expecting this moment of vulnerability to slip from a guy who probably thought a nice first date included a visit to the backseat of his car. “Care to elaborate?” I asked, setting the empty cup into the sand.

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, staring out into the water. “But thanks for asking.”

“Jude!” someone yelled down the beach.

Glancing over at the shouter, a middle aged man who was rotund at best and grossly obese truthfully, Jude waved his hand. “Coming, Uncle Joe.”

“That’s your uncle?” My eyes flicked back and forth between Jude and Uncle Joe, finding no other resemblance than gender.

Jude nodded once. “Uncle Joe.”

“And those are your cousins?” Again, I surveyed the handful of boys ranging in age from probably kindergarten to high school, finding no definitive feature that would tie them to each other.