Page 144 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
“Thank you. I’ll do my best too. We want this to work, don’t we?” His tone is still relaxed as if he thinks we can pull this off, even if no one caught us on camera moments ago.
“We do. And I won’t blow it for you,” I say. Jude has worked his ass off to reach this point. He slogged through a few years when he hardly worked at all. He’s on the other side of that struggle, and if I can help him with his reputation rehab, I should.
He wiggles a brow. “When you say that, I’m not sure I can resist some wordplay.”
I grin. “I can’t either. So does that mean... you want me to blow it for you?”
“I do. I just fucking do,” he says, setting his hand on his belly as laughter consumes him.
I crack up too, and we let our guards down together.
A few seconds later, a rough-and-tumble voice cuts past our laughing. “Told you I’d track you down.”
I groan quietly, recognizing the voice. I haven’t had time to fill Jude in about Malcolm, and now he’s a yard away, and I’m forced to be polite. “Jude, this is Malcolm Mann fromThe Man’s Man. He’s a self-help,” I say, taking a deliberate pause for a little shade, before I finish, with “legend.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m a big fan of...self-help,” Jude says smoothly, and I smile at the smart quip.
But Malcolm seems to miss Jude’s double meaning.“That’s awesome. Glad to hear it.” He shifts his attention to me. “Don’t know if you heard the news, but I’m writing a romance novel.”
“Is that so?” I feign surprise. Take that, world. I can act.
“It’s gonna be great. I figure, how hard can it be?” he asks.
“I’m sure it’s super simple,” Jude says drily, and I’m too amused to be insulted by Malcolm.
But the guy can’t even tell Jude’s mocking him as he mocks romance novels. “Right? Boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy does something dumb, girl forgives him, and they live happily ever after.”
“You’re pretty much an expert,” I deadpan.
Malcolm ignores my comment.
“Except, sometimes dudes fall for dudes,” Malcolm says, then gestures from Jude to me. So informed, this asshole.Yes, Malcolm please mansplain more about how gay love works.“But don’t worry,” he stage-whispers in my direction. “I won’t try to horn in on your territory in the man-on-man genre.”
“Whew. Thank God. I bet you’d give gay romance some stiff competition with your pen,” Jude says.
I fight like hell not to crack up.
Malcolm preens at the compliment. “Not gonna lie. My sex scenes are pretty smoking. The heroine came three times on command in the last scene I wrote.”
“What a lucky lady,” I remark.
Malcolm wiggles his brows. “Write what you know, as they say. Speaking of TJ, I would love to talk shop with you sometime. We men have to stick together, right?”
So, women are the enemy? Okay, whatever. “DM me, bro,” I say, talking the talk and offering a fist for bumping. When in Rome...
He knocks back. “You’ll hear from me. My handle is The Man’s Man.”
Of course it is.
After he walks away, the bartender slides our drinks in front of us.
Jude thanks him, then lifts his glass in a toast. “Cheers to Malcolm. Does he not realizeThe Man’s Manis packed with double meaning?”
“And I mean packed,” I say, then we clink glasses and drink.
When I set down my cocktail, I meet his gaze. Earlier, I didn’t want him to know I’d meant the praise for his performance. But Jude’s trying tonight. For both our sakes.
There’s something I have to tell him. “A few months ago, I sneaked into a movie theater on a Tuesday morning and watched your movie,” I say, and his smile starts, slow and genuine, as I talk. “I vowed not to see it, but I broke that vow after the first weekend. You were...” I don’t even know what words to use, so he understands how he affected me. But I’ve got to try. “I meant what I said about the tissues.”