Chapter 12

Yet again he'd stirred me up and confused the hell out of me and left me hanging. Though, wow, Reagan was turning out to be closer to the truth than I'd ever expected when it came to him and his job.

If I took his nanny job or slept with him, I was his? What the hell?

He was only 12 years older than me, but holy hell, how did they have relationships out in Seattle? Or even ordinary hookups? Had I somehow stumbled into some Fifty Shade of Grey setup?

"Do you want some goldfish crackers?" I asked Owen as he started crying again, knuckling his eyes. "You have to be hungry?"

"Yeah."

I offered him the mini bag of crackers from the large multipack I'd purchased that Jude had yet to unpack. Owen shook his head, clearly not interested.

So, I popped the bag open and dug in myself, tossing a few in my mouth.

I had no clue where Jude was now, because he'd conveniently not followed us into the kitchen.

He'd sent Caro off to fulfill his pan errand, but wasn't that kind of thing my job now as the nanny? Or was I going to be paid to provide sexual services? And what, exactly?

He'd only offered to go down on me. Which seemed like an odd opening if I was going to be his sex slave. And did it count if I was coming on to him?

I rubbed my temple and ate more crackers. I was on the verge of a damn headache.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" I asked Owen while he watched me eat crackers.

"Okay. Just one."

"They're tiny. You gotta want more than one. Here, have a few. You can have more if you like them." I poured a small pile of goldfish crackers into his outstretched hand.

He watched me and then he did the same as I had, tossing them into his mouth. A couple slipped out and fell on his lap, but he picked them up and tried the toss again, this time catching and chewing and swallowing them all. Then he clasped his hands and waited.

"More?"

He nodded and held out his hand again as I poured out the rest of the package. I returned to the box and opened another small pouch. I opened it and dumped some in my mouth then I realized he was again waiting patiently for a cracker refill.

"Here, let me give you your own since I keep eating them all." I opened another pouch and handed it over, smiling to myself as he continued the tossing routine I'd started. A few times, some dropped onto his lap, and then a couple on the floor, but each time, he stopped and either ate them if they fell on his lap or he carried them to the automatic trash can in the corner if they fell on the floor.

Smart kid. How could he only be three?

That was what I was going to ask Jude next—exactly when was Owen's birthday. Not any more about this sex stuff. Maybe if I didn't focus on that part, he'd just…let it go.

Not that I didn't want to mess around with him, but I didn't want it to be a condition of employment. Because that was fucking weird.

And honestly, I was decent at sex, but I hadn't had enough of it to get paid for it or anything. Not that I'd ever aspired to be paid for it.

I just wanted a normal hookup. Was that old-fashioned now?

Who could I ask? Reagan had been with a couple guys just as I had, but she'd been single for a while now. And after her concern about the sex trade, if I mentioned anything questionable, she'd probably tell her dad that I'd gotten myself into a shady situation by answering a strange ad.

I sincerely hoped she wasn't right.

Owen was such a cute kid. A sweet one. He had no one to turn to but me. And Jude didn't seem to be dangerous. Unless this was just the first indication of worse things to come.

How the hell was I supposed to know? It really sucked that I wasn't sure who I could safely ask.

Maybe just ask Jude himself?

As if I could trust him to be honest. It wasn't as if criminals would tell you they were a threat. But he didn't feel threatening. He just seemed a little lost and lonely and out of his depth and okay, maybe controlling, but he wasn't over the top with that all the time. Maybe the sex thing was just a…quirk.

Yes, a quirk. That was how I'd think of it until I knew more.

I absolutely would not ask Reagan. She was even more suspicious than I was, and that was saying plenty. Maybe I'd ask one of my friends at The Mason Jar. Most of my college friends I'd stopped keeping up with in recent months because I was working so much.

I could ask Honey, I supposed. Although she was Christian's girl, so even though she was close to my age and likely knew more than I did about such things, I wasn't certain I could trust her to keep my secret. She was a new mom and super nervous about well…everything. She'd probably figure like Reagan that I'd soon be in a web of criminal activity that I'd never be able to untangle myself from unless they moved fast.

Hell, maybe they were right.

"Baddie?"

I tossed my now empty Goldfish bag in the trash can and turned to Owen. "Yeah?"

"Still hangry." He turned over his now empty cracker bag over the counter and nothing came out but crumbs.

"Yeah, it's getting closer to dinner time than lunch. I don't know when the pans will be back." I blew out a breath and sorted through the remaining grocery bag, yanking out a box of Froot Loops Owen had said he wanted. "How's this for a snack?"

Though, shit, I had forgotten the damn milk. I wasn't going to tell Jude, because I had no clue what his solution would be. It would be needlessly difficult, I was sure.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened my DoorDash app. Yay, more on my credit card. Whatever. With the day I was having, a credit card bill was the least of my worries.

Within two minutes, I'd placed an order from a nearby convenience store on Main Street, and while I was at it, I ordered a couple frozen meals. Jude had a microwave and paper plates, so if need be, at least we'd have dinner.

It wasn't as if I had to stay here. Even without my car, I could just call Rea. She'd come get me if I asked. But that would lead to many questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

Or even knew how to answer.

Not to mention, I felt responsible for Owen now. I couldn't leave him here on his own. At least not yet.

In the meantime, while we waited for DoorDash, I took Owen into the sitting room we'd been in earlier that day and unearthed the remote from a stand-like thing on the coffee table. We'd just settled on the couch to watch TV when goosebumps popped along my arms. I was freaking freezing.

What did Jude keep his AC set on in this place? The Antarctica setting?

I rose to go back in the kitchen to find the HomeGoods bag. He'd dumped it on the counter without putting anything away. Owen's spotted fish was on the counter next to his stool but I guessed he might want to hold onto the giraffe toy instead, so I grabbed that along with the movie night throw.

Ha, movie night. With Jude, it'd probably be porn.

Yet I wasn't running. So, what did that say about me?

Curiosity killed the cat, remember?

The doorbell sounded. I hurried to answer it, first dumping the throw and giraffe on the couch by Owen. He grabbed both as I rushed to meet the DoorDash guy, who was unnaturally flirty with me as I tried to grab a couple bucks for his tip.

"Nice place," he said, looking around as I fumbled for cash. How much had my order been? I didn't even recall. "Your parents' place, I'm assuming?"

"No, not her parents," Jude said smoothly from behind me, stepping up to hand the guy a clutch of bills that far exceeded even the bill, never mind an appropriate tip. "Have a nice night." He accepted the bag the guy held and took my hand, tugging me inside.

Then he shut the door practically in the dude's face.

"DoorDash?" He shook his head, peering in the bag. "Milk? Frozen meals? You didn't get enough at the store?"

"I have no pans, remember?" I snatched the bag from him and marched down the hall to the kitchen as the telltale Bubble Guppies jingle played. Yay me for knowing the Nick Jr. schedule, thanks to my nieces and nephews.

"You will soon. Caro is gathering what you requested now."

Once in the kitchen, I set the milk on the counter next to the Froot Loops box and hurriedly dumped the four frozen meals in the gigantic, mostly empty freezer. At least he'd remembered to put away the rocket pops and the toaster waffles.

"Did you have her get some sex toys while she was out too?" I slammed the freezer door shut.

"Why? Do you need some?"

I made a face at him as I set about ripping open the cereal box.

He wasn't looking, because he'd undone the cap on the milk and was calmly pouring some into two paper bowls. Then he got down a third, presumably for himself, and he held out his hand for the cereal box. "Froot Loops?" His question held much derision.

"It was your son's choice. That's enough for me," I said as he filled the bowl in front of him.

"This is mine." He pulled the bowl closer to him in case I hadn't understood. "Where is he? We eat at the counter."

"He's watching TV. I figured we could eat on the couch."

Jude's sigh was epic, as if I'd bought drugs to give his child or something equally bad. But he took his bowl of cereal into the other room just the same, almost trudging there as if he was being forced.

When I joined them, carrying both my bowl and Owen's bowl of cereal, they were at opposite ends of the couch. Owen was curled up with the giraffe, sucking his thumb and watching his father finish his bowl of Froot Loops.

Yes, Jude was clearly the next father of the year candidate as he'd finished his meal while his son had nothing.

"Here you go, honey," I said loudly to Owen as I passed him the bowl. "Got it?"

"I got it, Baddie." He dipped his spoon in and managed a single bite before he somehow lost his grip and dumped the entire bowl over his lap and the sofa.

Crap.

"Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned right up." I grabbed his now practically empty bowl and started scooping up rapidly growing soggy Froot Loops with my hands. "I'm sorry, Jude, I know this couch must've cost a mint."

"Leave it. I'll handle it."

I just kept grabbing cereal as if I could make it disappear if I moved fast enough.

"Leave it, Madison."

Yet again his authoritative tone had me stilling until I looked at Owen and noticed his eyes spilling over. "Aw, honey, it's okay, I swear. Messes happen, and they can always be cleaned up." I darted my gaze to Jude, still holding soggy cereal. Daring him to contradict me. "Do you yell at him?"

"What? No." Now he looked at Owen. "Do I yell at you? Have I ever?"

His son's lower lip trembled as he stuck it out but he shook his head.

"Someone yelled at him," I insisted, grabbing tissues from the box on the side table to mop up some of the milk until I swiftly realized that was the wrong choice since clumps of tissue were being left behind.

Saying nothing, I rushed back into the kitchen to dispose of my messy tissues and cereal.

Jude soon followed and I busied myself gathering a sheaf of paper towels and not looking at him. "I've never yelled at him, I swear," he insisted.

"Then his mother did or a babysitter or some other relative. He's afraid sometimes and expects correction. When you got him, did he have any bruises?"

"God, no, nothing like that. You think she could've hit my boy?"

I swallowed hard, instinctively wanting to comfort him. The concern in his tone had me turning toward him. "I don't know. But he seems worried about getting in trouble. Which means he has and it's scared him. I mean, most kids don't want to get in trouble, but he's afraid to speak up." I bit my lip and let Jude take the paper towels out of my hand.

"Let me take care of the mess, okay? Eat your cereal."

It was only then that I realized he'd brought in the third bowl of cereal I'd immediately set on the coffee table once Owen had dropped his.

My lips curved. "At the counter?"

"Up to you. I saved the throw from the spill, by the way. Tossed it on the back of the couch." He had returned to the living room before I could comment.

This man was a mystery in every possible way.