A Firefighter in Her Stocking

“With the way you talk about him,” he barked, full of dislike at both her words and the way she was looking toward his cousin, “I’m surprised you didn’t sleep with him instead of me.”

It was a low blow. Jude knew it was a low blow. He’d like to retract the stupid words, but couldn’t.

Staring at him in wide-eyed horror, Sarah’s jaw dropped. “Did you really just say that?”

Yeah, he had. He shouldn’t have. His words had been crass and hateful and stupid.

What was wrong with him?

He’d felt like the luckiest man on earth right up until Vanessa had called him. How could going to a party to celebrate Charles’s engagement throw him so far off center?

Make his head cloudy and old hurt, old fears, abound?

Or was it how happy he’d been a few hours ago that was getting muddled up with the past that was messing with his head?

“While you think about what you just said, I’m going to give my congratulations to Charles and Grace.” With that quiet scolding, Sarah gave him another disapproving look, then walked over to hug Grace and kiss Charles on the cheek.

Jealousy erupted within Jude the likes of which he’d never known. Irrational jealousy because he knew Sarah wasn’t attracted to Charles.

He also knew that Charles was in love with Grace.

Yet jealousy blinded him.

Just as it had before he’d opened his mouth and spewed stupidity.

Blinded him.

To rational thought.

To reason.

To everything.

He found himself behaving with even more stupidity, because before he knew it he was at Sarah’s side, wishing his cousin and Grace a mumbled congrats, then guiding Sarah away from the party.

“We’re leaving.”

She squared her shoulders and looked ready to insist on staying. She must have seen the finality in his demand because she narrowed her gaze and said, “Fine.”

The taxi ride to their apartments was silent. Not a silence of gleeful anticipation as it had been the night before, but just stone-cold quiet that dug more and more distance between them.

Sarah was upset and well within her rights to be.

He was acting like a jerk, knew it, but couldn’t seem to rein in whatever devil drove his lapse into insanity.

When they reached their apartment doors, she didn’t look to him in question, just took out her key and let herself into her apartment. She didn’t invite him in, but left the door wide open, so he followed.

She dropped her coat, bag, and scarf onto the sofa, then turned. “Okay, we’re away from that ‘damn party’. I think it’s time you tell me what is going on between you and your cousin.”

“What makes you think you have a right to demand anything of me?”

She flinched and Jude hated his words, hated that he’d hurt her. Again. Hated that he felt the way he did, that his insides were black.

Could betrayal and guilt eat away a man’s reason?

“Fine. No arguments from me. I have no rights where you are concerned.” She gestured to the door they’d just walked through. “Leave.”

Pain ripped through him. He shut his eyes. “Don’t.”