Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

I drop my gaze, smiling, then meet his eyes again with a pout. “Aw, poor baby,” I say, lifting my axe over my head. Turning back to focus on the target, I pull back and swing it forward, letting go in front of me. The blade lands with a crack on the bullseye.

Jude gapes at me as I pull my hair up in a quick ponytail, grinning, and turn to retrieve my axe.

* * *

An hour later, we step out of The Battle Axe in a more wound-up state than when we went in. Searching out some quick dinner, we walk half a block to a nearby food truck and order burgers, which we eat outside as the sun goes down.

I’m still finishing the last of my fries as we stroll back to the truck, flirting harder than ever now that we can do it openly.

A voice comes from behind me. “Olena?”

At the sound of my name, I whirl around to find Bradley standing across from me. Art gallery Bradley. Humiliating, awful date Bradley. Cue the inward cringe, outward smile combo.

“Bradley? Hi.” It takes me a few beats to get my bearings. What is he doing here? I can feel the heat of Jude’s massive body standing behind me as I watch Bradley take him in, his eyes shifting between us as if he’s trying to figure out how Jude fits into my life.

“I thought that was you. I haven’t seen you since, well… since that night at the gallery, I guess,” he says with a rueful smirk.

I’d much rather bypass that memory altogether. “Yeah, uh, we’re just… finishing up dinner,” I say with what I hope is nonchalance. I hold up my remaining fries by way of explanation. This is so awkward. I’d rather not visit the museum of my poor decisions. With Jude. In public.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Bradley asks, lifting his chin at Jude.

“Yes, sorry, Jude, this is Bradley, Bradley, this is Jude,” I say with a frown of concentration.

Jude steps out from behind me to shake Bradley’s hand. Eyeing Bradley, he doesn’t speak, just gives a polite smile and nods his head in a silent greeting.

“He doesn’t say much, does he?” Bradley raises his eyebrows at me.

Jude tenses at my side and I glance up at him. His eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Uh, Bradley and I know each other from…” I trail off, my mind scrambling to explain our ill-advised date.

“We dated a while back,” Bradley offers, looking at Jude and straightening slightly.

Ugh, does he look proud? I want to smack his smug face. It was one date. And it was a disaster.

“Olena, that reminds me. My friend Dale is hosting a fundraiser for wildlife conservation next week at the Gareth Mason Gallery. It’ll coincide with the Basilio Domínguez exhibition. You know, the Cuban street art photographer?” He raises his eyebrows inquisitively, as if to confirm I know what he’s talking about.

I don’t. “Sounds… interesting,” I say weakly. Why is he telling me this? I must look visibly confused.

“You do something environmental for work, isn’t that right?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, landscape design.”

“Right, right, the little gardens,” he laughs softly. “I remember now.” He smiles, looking satisfied.

Once again, I feel Jude tense at my side.

I don’t know what to say to escape this interaction; I just know I want to ejector-seat myself out of here to avoid enduring another second of looking at Bradley’s smug face and his condescending gaze. Or hearing anything more about modern art—especially the windbags who stand around talking about it.

“Well, thanks for the info. We’d better get going.” I grab Jude by the arm, making to pull him toward the truck.

“Okay. Nice to see you, Olena,” Bradley offers politely. “I’ll send you the details. I’ve still got your number.”

Gross.

“And nice to meet you, Jude.”

Jude lifts his chin at Bradley. “Brad, was it?”