No news. Save for the incessant calls from the damn lawyer for updates to give Pruitt, nothing much was happening.
Jude sighed, pocketed his phone, and continued pacing the house. Part of him—Libby would say the insane part of him—almost wished something would happen with K-Bar already. Even with their mutually satisfying nights together, the days were beginning to seem endless, and sitting around the house waiting for an anvil to drop on their heads was starting to grate on his nerves. Libby’s, too, if he had to guess by the way she’d gone all neat-freak on him. The woman had spent almost every waking moment scrubbing, mopping, and dusting, and last night he’d noticed the effects of all that hard work in her chapped hands and ragged fingernails. He kept expecting her to run out of things to clean, but she always managed to find something else, so this morning, he’d suggested she relax and read another book. That had not gone over well. She’d thrown it in his face that she wouldn’t have to clean every day if he didn’t make such a mess all of the time.
“What mess?” he’d demanded incredulously, pulled off the basketball shorts he liked to sleep in, and tossed them aside while he rooted around in his drawer for a pair of board shorts for his morning swim. “The place is cleaner now than when we arrived.”
“Your mess!” She scooped up his shorts and stuffed them in the hamper along with her nightshirt. She looked gorgeous standing there in her bra and panties and nothing else, but he was too annoyed to act on his cock’s interest.
“I don’t make a mess.”
“Uh, yes, you do. You take off your clothes and leave them where they land.”
Okay, she got him there. “I pick them up eventually.”
“Eventually’s not soon enough!” She snatched a sock from the floor by the end of the bed and thrust it at him. “I purposely left this laying on the floor, waiting to see if you’d pick it up.”
Outrage burned through him as he slammed the dresser drawer shut and spun to face her. “You tested me?”
“Uh-huh. And you failed miserably.”
“No shit. I didn’t see it there.”
“That’s the problem. You never see any of it. Know how long this sock has been there? Hm? Three days, Jude. Three. Days.” She threw the sock into the hamper with everything else. “And that’s not even the half of it. You have no clue how to run the dishwasher. You leave toothpaste in the sink. You—”
“All right, since you’re Ms. Spic-and-Span herself.” He motioned toward the en suite. “You wanna tell me why you have every hair product known to mankind scattered on the bathroom counter?”
“Because that’s where they belong!”
“But my shave kit belongs under the sink?”
“Yes!”
That had sparked another round of bickering, which ended with her shoving him out of the bedroom and shutting herself in to organize their socks by type and color or some shit. Jude left her alone to go for his morning swim, but two hours later, he was all but climbing the walls. When he realized he’d just completed his fifth lap around the living room furniture, he stopped and shook his head.
Something had to change. Like, right now. They needed a break, some kind of release valve, or they were going to end up driving each other into straitjackets.
Drive.
Now there was an idea. Technically, they should stay in the house, but fuck it. This wasn’t witness protection. Since he’d heard nothing from nobody about anything for three long days, a drive wouldn’t hurt. And…maybe a picnic somewhere remote and quiet, away from the constant crowd of tourists on Key West. Someplace where the only possible threat to Libby would be a sunburn.
Yeah, he liked this idea. He took a moment to let a plan solidify in his mind, then pulled out his phone again. He knew just the place.
…
Libby had to admit it felt incredible to be out of that house and among the bustle of civilization again. As Jude navigated the rented convertible through traffic, the hotels alongside the road gave way to condos and then to nontouristy commercial and residential properties. Finally, civilization surrendered to marshlands, and she started to fidget as paranoia gnawed at the back of her brain.
“Where are we going?” He’d said they were only going for a drive around the island, but the car seemed to be pointed away from Key West.
Jude glanced over the tops of his sunglasses with that panty-melting smile of his, but gave no other answer. He just stepped on the gas and turned up the radio as Bob Marley told them not to worry about a thing. The convertible cleared the edge of the island, and nothing but water and sky and miles of highway stretched before them. Wind whipped her hair into a frizzy mess, but suddenly she didn’t care.
Beautiful.