Page 12 of The Dom with a Safeword

He seemed to consider this then asked, “And she’s…”

She eyed him a fraction of a second. Should she be saying this?

“Bi,” Sabrina finished on a sigh. Why did people have to be bi anyway? They should stick to one or the other. Everyone in their box, compartmentalized neatly so they made sense and she could feel like she understood something in this fucking universe – like she understood Q. As a second thought, she rushed to add, “But she likes guys.” She’d get her friend laid by this hottie if it was the last thing she did for her. “She really likes guys.”

Ugh. She could have smacked herself. She just made her best friend sound like a slut!

“Um,” she started, shaking her head. “What I mean is…” Protection for her friend overrode her embarrassment. Steeling herself, she raised her chin, stepped into him, and whispered in her best threatening voice, “Q is pretty and smart and funny, and if you hurt her, this Italian New Jersey Catholic schoolgirl will go all heels-off-drunken-chick-fight-in-a-bar on your ass.”

She watched him, looking for signs of anger while maintaining the diva attitude she’d learned from her aunts.

His lips merely twitched then he took her hand, which she’d just noticed was clenched into a fist, and brought it to his lips. “You’re awfully cute when you’re threatening me, Jersey girl.”

Her bones turned into a pile of mush when he ran his lips over her knuckles.

The porch door slammed, startling Sabrina into pulling from Jude’s grip. Q walked in, eyeing them suspiciously. Shit. A chance at hooking Q up with someone decent and she’d ruined it in a moment of spineless lust. Her face heated. She’d win the worst friend of the year award, hands down.

Q put an arm around Sabrina possessively while giving Jude a glare that would scare the mafia. She should know. One of her cousins was mafia.

“What did I miss?” Her gaze stayed fastened on Jude like a soldier eyeing an unexploded bomb. Maybe Sabrina should have warned him about Q’s protective streak.

“Nothing, Q,” Sabrina said, returning the hug to ease her. “Jude was just going to tell me about the house.”

“Let’s sit down,” he said, gesturing them toward the cozy, overstuffed furniture.

Q plopped down on one side of the sofa. Sabrina waited for Jude to take the seat next to her but he sat on the love seat instead, leaning back, one ankle crossed over his knee. Slightly disappointed he didn’t seize the opportunity, she occupied the spot next to Q. She seemed pleased and scooted closer until their thighs touched.

“This is a big place for one man,” Q said. “Or is there a wife and kids somewhere we should know about?”

“No wife or kids.”

“Are you a flipper?” Sabrina asked.

His brow descended. “A what?”

“A person who buys an old house and fixes it up then sells it again. I saw it on TV. A house flipper.”

“Ah” He nodded. “No. I’m renting this place for the summer. Actually the owner is letting me stay for free if I work on the interior. I happen to enjoy renovating old houses.”

“Why just for the summer?” Q asked. “You have other plans after that?”

His face drooped a little. “Medical school.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be in school?”

“Sabrina!” Q elbowed her in the ribs.

“What?” she said, dumbfounded. It was a valid question.

Jude chuckled. “I’m twenty-eight, Jersey girl. But it’s good to know I look old. Maybe I’ll invest in some new skin cream.”

“No,” Q said, giving Sabrina a harsh look. “You don’t look old at all. You look…” She trailed off, her face reddening.

“Distinguished,” Sabrina finished for her.

“Distinguished?” Jude laughed. “That’s the polite word for old.”

“Pretty much,” she agreed. Cause it was.