Ghosting by Tash Skilton

Author:Tash Skilton [Skilton, Tash]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

MILES

Will the record please show that I never told Jude to say anything about farting? In fact, very little of that conversation actually turned out to be mine. Definitely not worth the price of admission—namely the 150 bucks I paid out of my own pocket for that headset.

It started out fine. I did feed him the line about the wine pairings, though he cleverly Scotified it by using the word “guddle.”

And then, before I knew it, he was talking about eye candy at the gym. “No, Jude,” I said. “We don’t want to talk about other attractive women . . .” but before I could tell him why, the two of them were off and talking about gas. As in passing it. Well, I guess that was one way to divert the conversation.

Apparently, the correct way because suddenly they are heavily making out in the middle of the restaurant and straight into my inner ear. I have to take my headphones off at one point because it’s like listening to a porn podcast.

That might have been a mistake because before I know it, Bree is flying past me and out of the restaurant.

Shit. How did things go downhill so fast?

I look over at Jude, who is looking longingly past me at the door. I’m about to go over to him when the door flies open and Bree comes rushing back in. I don’t have my headset in so I don’t hear what she says, but she bends over the table for a moment, throws what looks like a piece of paper at him, and then leaves for good.

Jude smiles at her retreating form and then saunters over to me, lipstick smeared all over the lower half of his face and a sexed-up haze in his eyes. His hair was already too artfully mussed up for Bree’s pawing to make a difference.

“You were right. She’s amazing,” he says to me, still drunk on pheromones.

“What happened?” I ask. “Why did she leave?”

“Her friend had an emergency,” he replies.

Huh. “A friend with an emergency” is usually code for someone who was on standby to interrupt the date at a preset signal. But from everything I saw—and heard—it sure didn’t look like Bree wanted to be interrupted.

“That’s odd,” I say.

Jude shrugs. “I thought maybe she might’ve been bailing on me, but then she kept saying how sorry she was. And slipped me this before she left.”

He hands over a cheddar-colored napkin with a kiss stain on it. If I squint, I can make out what looks like an “IOU more of this” in something that looks like chalky grease marks.

“What did she use to write this?” I ask.

“Ricotta mousse,” he says, grinning. “She’s insanely sexy, no?”

“Yes,” I admit. Because she is. In every way. She’s got looks, personality, and—apparently—a healthy disregard for inhibition. Good for Jude.

Bastard.

“I’m going to text her,” Jude says, taking out his phone.

“What? No!” I say, knocking it down from in front of his face. “It’s too soon.”

“Really?” Jude asks, puzzled.

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