Crush (Crash #3)(4)

Jude Ryder. My beautiful fiancé.

He was waiting for me to respond.

"Okay, so money can make your life better if you're destitute," I said, prying my eyes from where they traced the grooves of his ab muscles. "But we're not destitute, Jude. We're college students with a roof over our heads, gasoline in our tanks, ramen noodles in our cupboards, and shirts on our backs. I couldn't imagine being any happier than I am right now, and if it was possible, money would certainly be the last thing on that list that could make me more so." I grabbed the plastic wineglass Jude had filled from a cheap bottle of sparkling wine and took a sip. It was delicious. I was as happy with a five-dollar bottle of sparkling wine from the drugstore as I would have been with the finest bottle of champagne money could buy.

"No, we're not destitute, but we're not thriving in the money department either, Luce," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling it into his lap. "And you're right that money couldn't make me happier than I am right now." He smiled so big it made the scar on his cheek pucker. "But it does mean I can finally be rid of my piece-of-shit truck and get a jacked-up, three-hundred-and-fifty-horsepower jet-black monster truck." 

I rolled my eyes and shoved at him.

"And we can trade in that little go-kart of yours for a zippy convertible," he continued.

"I like my Mazda," I muttered, plucking a grape free from the vine and popping it into my mouth.

"And we can afford a house with a room for each day of the year, with so many maids and butlers you wouldn't have to lift a finger again. Unless it was to call for a fresh-squeezed orange juice." He was really on a roll, the words spilling out of his mouth as his eyes sparkled with the visions. My own eyes were narrowing as my stomach twisted.

"Money changes people, Jude," I whispered, staring into my cup.

We were silent as we let that settle between us.

"That's what you're worried about?" he said, his voice soft. "That the money will change you?"

I shook my head, focusing on the bubbles that crept up the sides of the cup. "No," I said, before looking into his eyes. "That it will change you."

His eyes narrowed for the shortest second before they widened with understanding. Winding an arm around my neck, he pulled me to him. "Come here," he whispered outside my ear, wrapping his other arm around my back. "The only thing that could change me is you, Luce," he said. "You, not anything else. Mountains of money included." I heard the grin in his voice. "No matter what happens tomorrow or how many millions they throw at me, I'm the same guy I am right now." He rubbed my back, pressing slow circles into my spine. "I'll just be picking you up in a truck you won't be embarrassed to be seen in."

"I've never been embarrassed to be seen with you," I said, letting him tuck my head under his chin. "Not even in that sorry excuse for scrap metal of a truck."

He barked out a laugh. "Good to know, Luce. Good to know."





THREE


"How are you not nervous?" I hissed over at Jude, where he stood casually leaning against a wall. We were in the infamous green room on the first night of the draft.

Reaching his hand out for mine, he lifted a shoulder. "The coaches already know who they're picking. There's nothing I can do now to change that." Once I grabbed his hand, he tugged me close and folded me tight against him. "However, I'm starting to get nervous you're about to pass out any second."

That wasn't so far off. I reminded myself to breathe. "As long as you keep holding on to me like this, at least I won't crack my head open if I do."

His arms fastened tighter around me before he started to sway in time to an imaginary beat. "You can dance in front of hundreds of people and not break a sweat," he said. The movement was relaxing me. "But your fiancé is waiting for the phone call to see which city he'll be moving to so he can kick some big-time football ass, and you're a thin line away from losing it." Pressing a kiss to my temple, he leaned his forehead into mine with a small shake of his head. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out, Lucy Larson."

My laugh sounded manic. Probably because that was how I felt. "I have to keep you on your toes somehow."

Jude's eyebrows moved against my forehead. "You excel at that, Luce."

That tone again. The undercurrent that revealed he was trying to say something else. There'd been an increasing amount of "undercurrent" the past few months.

"Meaning?" I asked, peaking my own brows so they were as high as his. I reminded myself we weren't alone, that we were surrounded by the best players in college football, along with their closest family and friends. This was neither the place nor the time to get into one of our spats.