Talking Dirty With the Player(24)

“Yes.”

Judith let out a breath and gave him a rueful grin. “Okay, so I miss you.”

“That’s allowed.” He smiled back at her. “I hear you had a big night with Marisa.”

She groaned. “Oh God, how did you hear about that? Did Caleb tell you?”

Joseph’s eyes widened. “Caleb? Was he there, too?”

Her cheeks felt hot all of the sudden. How silly. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. The texts, yes, they were embarrassing, but apart from that massively awkward and uncomfortable conversation in her kitchen, he seemed to have let that go. And there was the fact that he’d seen her upchucking in the loo, although he hadn’t teased her about it. Oh no, he’d tucked her up in bed then cooked her some food.

“No he wasn’t. But how come you know?”

“Marisa texted Christie.” Joseph wagged a finger at her. “I told her she had to stop her friend from leading my sister astray.”

Judith snorted. “Yes, well, I was doing a lot of the leading.”

“Tut tut, Jude. That’s not like you.”

“So? Perhaps I’m going through a belated teenage stage.”

Joseph sobered. “I gotta say, if anyone needs to go through a teenage stage, it should be you.”

“Is this where you tell me I need to cut loose and live a little?”

“Yeah. Though perhaps you could limit getting drunk in clubs to every second night.”

She gave a little shudder, remembering. “Don’t worry, I’m never doing that again, believe me.”

“Good. You still haven’t told me what Caleb was doing in all of this.”

“Oh, he came round the next morning. While I was sick. He kind of…looked after me I guess.”

Joseph didn’t seem to find that at all surprising. “Good man. Did he cook you his famous fry-up?”

Judith grimaced, remembering Caleb’s comment about his father. The casual mention had only added to her embarrassment. She’d known he’d had it tough when he’d been a kid, first losing his mother then having to deal with his alcoholic father, and the thought of him having to do the same with her made her uncomfortable. “Yes, he did.”

“Did you want to punch him?”

“That, too.”

“And yet you ended up eating all of it, right?”

“Yeah, I did. How does that work?”

Her brother smiled. “I don’t know but Cal’s been doing that for Luke and me for years. He’s got it down to a fine art.”

“Because of his dad?”

Joseph’s gaze became a little watchful. “That’s right.”

She bit her lip. “Does he…” She stopped, unsure quite what it was she wanted to ask.

“Does he what?”

“Does he mind?” She waved a hand. “Looking after someone with a hangover, I mean. It must bring back bad memories for him.” He hadn’t looked like he minded at the time. Oh no, he’d been patient and…kind. Like the guy she’d once known. The guy who always remembered her birthday—the only one who did because Joseph always forgot and her father was always too busy—and who always gave her a gift. The guy who’d put an awkward arm around her the Christmas he’d found her crying beside the letterbox when the mail failed yet again to produce a card from her mother. The guy who always took her out for an apologetic ice cream after he and Joe had taken their teasing a little too far.

Her brother blinked. “You know, it never occurred to me to ask.”

“Typical male.” Judith gave him a disgusted look.

“What can I say? I am a man, it’s true.” Joseph paused. “Why would you care if he minded anyway? I didn’t think Cal was your favorite person.”

Good question. Why did she mind? “He’s not, I just…” She broke off, sensing the conversation was heading into dangerous waters. “I just don’t particularly want to remind him of his alcoholic father.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

Time for a subject change. Very definitely. “You’ll be pleased to know that I decided to take on the calendar, though.”

Joseph grinned. “He talked you into it, then?”

She sighed. “He did.”

“Glad to hear it. Look, I know you didn’t want to work with him on it but I appreciate your decision to give it a go anyway.” Her brother paused. “He’s really not that bad, Jude.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, remembering the way Caleb had pushed her hair back from her forehead after she’d been sick. A caring, affectionate gesture. Not the gesture of the player the media always promoted, that was for sure. And she was pretty sure players wouldn’t tuck her into bed with a glass of water and wait around for a couple of hours to make sure she was okay, either. “No,” she said slowly. “Maybe not all bad.”