This Could Be Us (Skyland, #2)(76)

Now that I’ve gotten through what I need to say to people I hoped never to see again, I allow myself to really look. I don’t find any judgment or dislike. Only curiosity and, if I’m not mistaken, goodwill.

“It was great seeing so many of you again,” I say. “I wish you all the best and a happy holiday.”

I nod to Rhea, who stands at the entrance with her small contingency of servers behind her. On my cue she and the others come in, carrying plates of delicious-smelling food. I start toward the door, carefully avoiding the side of the room where I saw Judah settle. I’d hoped to get out fast, but people keep stopping me. They tell me it’s good to see me, that they’ve been watching my posts. One young VP even tugs me to the side and whispers that she’s started dating herself once a week.

“That’s amazing.” I squeeze her hand and share a smile with her.

“My last partner cheated on me,” she goes on. “At first I felt like I lost the love of my life, but taking this time for myself, now I realize without honesty and respect, that wasn’t actually love.”

The word “cheated” tears through me like a Band-Aid being ripped off. Does she know Edward cheated? Surely they all do. The affair with Amber was an integral part of cracking the case. Everyone knows how he betrayed me, and suddenly I just want to get out of here. Not to be the object of anyone’s scrutiny. Or worse, their pity.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this process,” I tell her with all sincerity. “It’s been transformational for me too. You’ll have to excuse me now, though, because I need to get home to my girls. Have a good one.”

Lupe is old enough for them to stay alone, which they do all the time, but I need to get out of here before I turn maudlin, down a few bottles of wine, and end up drunk, dancing on a table and sobbing through all four courses.

“You got this?” I ask Rhea once I reach the kitchen and find her directing the servers rushing to get the plates out.

“Got it.” She sends me a harried glance. “Glad Ms. Callahan asked you to do that, not me.”

“It wasn’t part of the bargain. I want to get out of here before she finds something else I didn’t agree to do. Have a great night. Their crew will handle breakdown and cleanup.”

“Thanks for the opportunity,” she says, giving me a small salute.

I grab my purse from the pantry and head for the back porch since all the servers parked on the rear lawn. A gentle grip on my elbow stops me before I get out of the kitchen. I look up over my shoulder to meet Judah’s eyes.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” The sculpted curve of his mouth settles into a disapproving line. “Or even hello, for that matter.”

“Uh…” I slide a look to Rhea, who seems to be very purposely not watching us right now. “No.”

“So you were just carrying your purse and headed to your car, but not leaving?”

“Judah.” I cast a self-conscious glance around at the kitchen and the servers rushing in and out. “Can we not do this here, now?”

Without replying, he takes my hand and leads me through the bustle of the kitchen and out into the hall. We keep going past the dining room, where guests have started eating and drinking. Laughter and the muted tinkle of glasses follow us down the quiet passageway. I love how his fingers curl around my hand. The contrast between strength and gentleness in the span of his palm. I relish it as a small thing I don’t have in this period of my life. With unhurried steps, he takes me to a room down the hall. When the door closes behind us, I look around, a small smile forcing its way through my wariness. It’s the same room where I found Aaron at this party last year. Same book-lined shelves and well-used armchairs. Even the faint smell of cigars still hangs in the air like a ghost.

Judah turns to face me, sliding his hands into the pockets of dark slacks. With his lean, athletic build, broad shoulders, and narrow waist, clothes love him, draping and clinging in all the right places. He slowly takes in the details of my face, my hair, my clothes. An inventory that ends when he meets my eyes.

“You look good,” he says. “You always do.”

“Thanks.” I clasp my hands behind me, gripping my purse to keep from reaching for him again. That simple mingling of our fingers was better than a kiss in some ways, and I want to hold on to it. “I assume you didn’t bring me back here to compliment my outfit.”

“No, I brought you back here because you weren’t even going to speak to me.” One side of his mouth quirks up. “It defeats the purpose of me arranging ways to see you if I don’t actually get to see you.”

“I told you I’m grateful for this gig.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but I thought we were friends.”

“Is this what friends do?” My laugh comes out like forced air, rough and short. “Want each other?”

In two strides he’s much closer, towering over me, pouring a devouring look down the length of my body. He leans into me until our noses brush and our parted lips nearly touch.

“You want me, Sol?” he asks, his breath fanning my lips.

“Yes,” I pant.

He grips my hip with one hand, pulling me flush against him so I feel how I’ve affected him, how hard he is for me. He lowers his head, and I know that if I don’t speak now, our first kiss will consume all thought.