Free Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia #4) by Micalea Smeltzer Page B

would look away first.
    Of course it was me.
    Swallowing thickly, I continued to dry the already pristine bowl in my hands. “You had nothing to worry about,” I told him. “Your grandpa is pretty amazing.”
    He chuckled. “You might be the only person that thinks so.”
    “Besides you,” I added, because we both knew it was true. He didn’t need to say it.
    “Yeah,” he cracked a smile, “I think he’s pretty amazing.” He looked over his shoulder, as if his grandpa was standing there, but I’d heard his footsteps ascend the steps a few minutes earlier. “I worry about him,” he whispered under his breath, then looked at me with soft brown eyes.
    I didn’t know how to handle this Jude. He was a stranger to me.
    None of my normal bitchy comments would be appropriate right now. Jude was being oddly serious, and I needed to do the same. It was hard though, because I was afraid of being played.
    “I’m sure you do,” I gave him a reassuring smile. Because he’d opened up about why he wante d to be a nurse, and showed me a vulnerable side of himself that I hadn’t known existed before, I added, “I worry about my mom.”
    “Your mom? Why?” His thick brows furrowed together.
    I let out a heavy sigh. My shoulders drooped with heaviness. “It’s a long story.”
    “I like stories.” His voice was soft with none of his normal joking tone.
    “This isn’t a story I want to tell,” I shrugged, setting the dish aside and taking the next one he offered me. Since it was the last, he pulled the plug from the sink and the soapy water swirled away.
    He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. The action caused his short sleeve shirt to ride up a bit, exposing the smooth planes of his stomach and the dents that disappeared underneath the band of his jeans.
    Annnnd, I was staring. Again.
    Jude noticed where my eyes lingered and a smirk lifted his full lips. “It’s okay to look, Tatum.”
    A blush stained my cheeks and I hastily turned away. I hated being flustered but I was beginning to feel like that’s all I ever was around Jude.
    “We better go,” he said, grabbing up two plastic containers full of chili—one for me and one for him. “It’s getting pretty late.”
    For the first time since we arrived on the farm I thought of my mother home alone with no one to take care of her. I couldn’t believe I’d completely forgotten her. What was wrong with me?
    Jude pulled on a sweatshirt and held the front door open for me.
    The small lights outside didn’t provide enough clarity for walking, so Jude guided me to his truck with a hand balanced above my waist. He held the door open for me as I climbed inside and then handed me the containers to hold on the ride home.
    Neither of us said much, and it wasn’t until he dropped me off at campus to get my car that I realized he’d never asked me a question today.

Chapter Seven
    “Hey, Mr. Jenkins, how are you doing?” Jude asked the man lying in the bed as he glanced down at a chart.
    “I’m doing better now that you’re here,” the man coughed, his entire small frame shaking with the movement. “None of these women ever want to talk about sports. It’s annoying.”
    Jude chuckled and pulled out a chair, sitting beside the man. He reached for his arm and started taking his pulse. “What do you want to talk about today?”
    “Baseball,” he responded.
    As Jude took the man’s vitals he immediately lapsed into an easy conversation about different teams, stats, and a bunch of other things that sounded like he was speaking Martian. I’d been a cheerleader for a short time before Graham died, and I knew a little about football, but not enough to brag about.
    As Jude quieted, taking notes, the man asked, “Who’s this pretty lady? Your girlfriend?”
    “I’m not his girlfriend,” I spat before Jude could respond and I said it like it was the grossest thing imaginable.
    “She doesn’t know it yet,” Jude’s grin