Crush (Crash #3)(41)

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jude winked over at me. "Jude Amazing Ryder," he managed with a straight face. I couldn't perform the same feat.

Coming up behind me, Jude wrapped his arms around me. "What's so funny?" he teased.

Thrusting a pen and a newspaper at us, the poor guy looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. It was so odd the way people treated Jude now, like they idolized him. "Could I have your autograph?" His voice was shaky.

"You bet," Jude answered, uncapping the pen as the employee unfolded the front page of the local newspaper. On it was a huge photograph of a man and a woman at night. In the ocean. Bare-ass naked.

"Shit," I murmured, twisting in Jude's arms, hoping he hadn't seen it yet.

Nothing good would come of Jude seeing this.

His eyes were locked on the picture, like he wasn't sure what he was seeing. The confusion shifted toward red-faced anger in the time it took me to plant my hands on either side of his face.

"Jude," I said, trying to sound calm. Trying to be calm for him, when I felt anything but. Calm was impossible when a full-frontal naked shot of me was plastered on who knew how many thousands of papers. "It's all right. Calm down," I continued, trying to get his eyes to focus on mine. But they would not look away from the picture below the headline, "Ryder Has Game Both On and Off the Field." The photographer must have snapped the picture right when he'd joined me in the water and spun me around. Other than his face and arms, that was all of Jude the stupid pap had caught. But with me, they'd had to make use of the photo-blur tool in a couple of places.



       
         
       
        

Jude snatched the paper from the man's hand and glowered at him. "What the hell is this?" Rolling it up, Jude stuffed the paper into the back of his pants and waited.

Once the employee realized Jude wasn't going to move until he got an answer, he shrugged. "A newspaper." He had the decency to look ashamed.

"That's not a newspaper," Jude said, seething. The muscles of his jaw rolled beneath my hands. "That's a naked picture of my fiancée."

Dammit. His face had just gone from red to purple. Soon we'd be past the point where anything I could do would talk him down.

"You got any more of those back there?" Rushing behind the counter, Jude inspected the area. I followed him.

"Jude," I said, "stop."

"No, no," the employee said, raising his hands. I could tell he hadn't meant any disrespect when he'd asked Jude to sign a naked photo of him and me, but I also knew the man would never, ever try something like this again.

"Who else has one of these?" Jude demanded after he was satisfied no more newspapers were stuffed behind the counter.

The man looked from Jude to me with his brows knitted together, his expression reading, Seriously? "Whoever subscribes to or picked up a Sunday paper today?" he suggested, slinking away from Jude.

Smart move.

Just then, Jude's gaze drifted inside the terminal, where a man in a suit was depositing quarters into a . . .

Shit.

Jude turned and sprinted away before I could offer an apologetic smile to the ticketing employee.

"Jude!" I shouted as I entered the terminal. In addition to good-byes, I was also sick of making scenes.

He didn't glance back-he didn't even slow down-he just kept barreling at the man who was just lifting the vending machine door to grab his morning paper. Before he'd had a chance to unfold it, Jude was on him.

Shit, shit.

I was running now, too, but was still a hundred feet away.

Snatching the paper out of the man's hands, Jude towered over him, glowering like he was the one responsible for my teeth, tits, and toes winding up on the front page.

"Jude!" I yelled louder this time, trying to get his attention.

It worked. His glare shifted toward me for the shortest moment, but it was enough. Jude's shoulders were lowering and the rage on his face had dimmed as I got to him.

Panting from my two-hundred-meter dash, I laced my hands around his forearm. "Deep breath in," I instructed. "Deep breath out. Think." I took my own breath, watching his chest rise and fall. "Think."

When I was certain Jude wasn't going to hammer the guy into the ground, I loosened my grip on his arm. "Sorry about that," I said, addressing the man, who was gawking at Jude like he was a tiger who had escaped the zoo. However, he didn't look scared, just intrigued. This guy had no survival instincts whatsoever. 

"Might I suggest tempering that anger of yours with some yoga and meditation, young man," the guy said, in an incredibly unflustered voice. Like he hadn't just been charged by two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and fury.