Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

Nat interrupts my childish impression of her with a gentle swat. “Len, shut up; what did you say that landscaper guy’s business was called again?”

“What? Oh. Something Knives? No, Blades? Grass Blades? No… I can’t remember. Why?” I ask from inside my hoodie cocoon.

“Sharpe Blades?” she asks tentatively.

“Oh, yeah, that was it. Why?” I try to get us back on track. “Nat, focus up. I need some more mustering help here.” This is how it works between us: I’m the hot mess and she’s my voice of reason.

“Oh, wow. You didn’t mention…” Nat sounds like she’s smiling. Then, more alarmed, I hear, “Oh, shit.”

The sound of her keys jingling reaches me through my morning fog, penetrating the combined layers of sweatshirt and soul-crushing ennui. The automatic window whines softly as it rolls down beside me. I absentmindedly lower my legs to the floor of the car, now thoroughly confused.

I shift the fabric aperture of my cinched hood to line up with one eyeball as I turn to Nat, trying to figure out what has caught her attention. When I finally align my little window correctly, it reveals Nat sporting a massive grin, her eyes shifting rapidly between me and the open window to my right.

“What’s going on? Nat—”

Nat discreetly shoves my arm.

“Olena?” A deep voice from outside the window startles me and I jump, realization hitting me in slow motion. Jude. Jude is here. Why is Jude here?

In a panic, I claw at the edges of my hood, tugging it open, snagging a tangled section of my hair along with it.

“Shit, ow,” I mutter under my breath as I sweep away my hoodie and hair as fast as I can. In my rush to free myself from my sweatshirt prison, one of the laces whips up and drags across my open mouth. Frantically inhaling at exactly the wrong moment, I get a mouthful of hair and hoodie lace. I recoil, coughing and spluttering as I rip the hood down and attempt to spit out several errant hairs my fingers are failing to drag out of my face. Finally, smoothing my hands over my hair and face a half dozen times proves successful; I return to some approximation of my normal appearance, though I know I must look disheveled. I take a steadying breath and look up.

“Jude. Hi,” I manage to say, although my voice comes out at a higher pitch than normal, as if contrived cheerfulness can help me recover my dignity. I clear my throat and look away, the eye contact intolerable as my cheeks flush in humiliation. I can feel him grinning down at me, his forearm braced over the passenger side door.

I send a fervent wish to the universe for a sinkhole to swallow me up. But, knowing my luck, it’d swallow us all up together and we’d have to continue this cringefest at the bottom.

I turn wide eyes on Nat. She’s pressing her lips together, her shoulders twitching forward as she tries to suppress a laugh. My eyes shoot silent daggers, pleading with her to save me from this moment. But there’s clearly no escape.

“You okay?” Jude asks, and I turn back to him reluctantly. I lift my eyes to meet his with an expression that hopefully reads I’m not deranged. His smile tells me he’s as delighted as Nat is at my suffering, his green eyes shining with amusement. “Did I… interrupt something?”

Oh, just me humiliating myself. Nothing to see here. Move along, citizen. Please, please move along.

Jude remains in place, looking down at me under his arm. A breeze drifts through the open window and carries with it the scent of him; he smells of freshly cut grass and sawdust mixed with something deeper, smokier. My eyes linger a moment too long on his broad chest, then I snap to attention when I realize I haven’t answered his question.

“Oh, us? No, no. I mean, we were just… we’re going for a run. We were just talking and I was—” I gesture weakly at Nat, trying to convey meaning with my hands because my mouth can’t put words into a coherent sentence.

“I recognized your car from the other day,” he says to me, then nods to Nat.

“I’m Natalie, hi.” She waves.

I scrunch up my face as I realize I have, yet again, forgotten how to be a human with even the most basic grasp of social graces.

“Yes, sorry, Jude, this is my best friend, Natalie; Nat, this is Jude, from the work… thing.” I shift my eyes to Jude’s briefly, cringing at my weak reference to how we know each other. The work thing? I should stop talking. My inner critic is logging all of this in furious detail to be replayed later. Probably when I’m trying to fall asleep tonight.

“Nice to meet you.” Nat leans over me from her perch in the driver’s seat and flashes a friendly and somewhat amused smile. “And this is actually my car; Olena was borrowing it for a bit.”

“Right,” he says, nodding. “Well, it’s hard to miss. Not many yellow cars around.” He flicks his gaze to me for a thoughtful moment, then inhales and breaks eye contact.

“What are you working on over there?” Nat asks as she looks past Jude, saving me from having to open my own mouth and risk whatever humiliating nonsense might come out.

With a half-glance behind him, he gestures over his shoulder. “Just finishing this job at Lyons Park before we get going on the Faulkner property.”

I feel him look at me. Avoiding his gaze, I scan the park and see a small crew of workers building a retaining wall alongside a freshly paved footpath. A half-dozen saplings stand sentinel, waiting to be planted, their root balls covered in burlap. A familiar dark green truck is parked beside them.

I swallow and smile weakly at Jude, then look away. My embarrassment is still too potent to shift into small-talk mode. I envision myself fleeing the scene without looking back. Diving into the river. Building a new life in the mountains, surrounded by animals who don’t care that I’m an awkward bonehead.

“Well, I should let you get on with your plans, ladies,” Jude says as he gently taps the car frame with his fist and pushes off to take a couple of steps back. “Have a great run.” Then, to me: “See you at the work… thing.” He raises an eyebrow and gives me a crooked half-smile.