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Clash(11)

By:Nicole Williams


Not in this lifetime, would have been my response had I been able to get it out around my chattering. I hated few things more than being cold‌—‌a root canal without Novocaine one of those few.

Scowling at Tony, so he knew this didn’t absolve him of any of his involvement in this morning’s prank, I grabbed the sweatshirt that could have fit two normal sized men with room to spare.

“Take this piece of shit back.” Appearing from behind me, Jude grabbed Tony’s sweatshirt out of my hands and flung it at his face. “Next time you or any of you bastards do that to my girl again, I’m beating all your asses. You got that?” Jude hollered, his eyes sweeping over his still and silent teammates.

He waited until every last one of them had nodded their agreement.

“And you,” Jude said, stepping forward and putting his finger in Tony’s face. “Don’t you ever try to give my girl something of yours to put on her body.” The muscles just below Jude’s neck were sticking out like shark fins he was so tense. “Or I’m never throwing another ball your way. Got that?”

And I thought I’d been pissed over a few gallons of water.

“Ryder,” Tony said, lifting his hands in surrender.

Jude took another step at him until their chests were butting against each other. “You. Got. It?”

Tony dropped his eyes, taking a step back. “I got it.”

“Good,” Jude replied, turning towards me. The planes of anger dissolved. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he said, his voice low and controlled.

I nodded my assent. I didn’t know how he could turn his anger on and off like it was hotwired to a switch, but it was as much a gift as it was a curse.

“Hey, Ryder,” one of his teammates called after him. One of the ones who’d been on the outskirts and hadn’t experienced a lethal dose of Jude fury. No one on the inner circle would be addressing him for a while. “What the hell did you do to Hopkins?”

Jude wrapped his arm around me, steering me towards the passenger side of his truck. “Locked him in your trunk, Palinski!”

When I peered up at him, he gave me his tilted smile.

“You didn’t,” I said, knowing he had.

“Hell, yes, I did,” he said, throwing open the door and leaning across the seat to retrieve his duffel bag. “And that’s not all the payback that little douche is going to suffer today.”

“Do I want to know?”

Shuffling through the contents of his bag, he pulled out a dark, long-sleeved shirt. “No. You don’t,” he answered, handing the shirt back at me. “But you’ll see.”

Tucking the warm, dry shirt into my hands, I nodded. “Something to look forward to.”

“Ryder,” Tony said, clearing his throat as he stepped around the front of the truck. He was holding out his phone. “Coach just called. He wants us in an hour earlier than usual. I told him it would take us at least an hour to get back. He said we’d better haul ass.” His face was almost a wince, like he was anticipating a fly off the cuff reaction from Jude.

“If coach wanted us to be there an hour early, he should have told us sooner,” Jude replied, not looking at him as he shuffled through some more contents in his bag. “I’ve got to get Luce some breakfast before taking her back to our place, so coach will just have to wait.”

“You want me to tell him that’s the reason you’re late?” Tony asked, nothing antagonistic about it, just an honest to goodness question.

“Damn straight I do,” Jude said, grabbing my waist and lifting me into the cab. “Tell him my girl comes before football. Tell him my girl’s breakfast comes before football.” Turning his gaze on Tony, he stared at him, waiting.

“You need me to write that down for you or you think you can manage that?” he added when Tony just stared his answer.

“Nah,” he said finally, managing a small smile. “Girl. Breakfast. Then football,” he recited, tapping his head. “I think I got it.”

Fastening the center lap belt over me, Jude slammed the passenger side door and came around the front of the truck. Pausing outside the driver’s side door, he peeled the wet thermal up and over his head, throwing it into the trees. Opening the door, he threw himself in and cranked the truck on. Blasting the heaters on, he centered every one of them on me. I’d just been freezing cold, and now everything felt all gooey and warm, even though the heat hadn’t kicked in yet. All because of one recently de-shirted man, wet and smiling beside me.

“What?” he said, his smile jacking higher as I continued to stare at him.