Chapter 7

I had absolutely no clue what this man was doing. Not just with me, but to me.

He seemed to swing back and forth from impervious and almost obnoxious to very nearly considerate and concerned.

And what was up with the whole handholding thing? Jude Keller did not seem like a man prone to sweet gestures. Then again, hearing his son had a fever had seemed to shake him. I didn't know if he had other symptoms too, like maybe a headache or stomach bug, so maybe there was something else going on.

Now that we were back in Jude's enormous home, I supposed I'd be finding out soon enough.

He was tugging me down an endless hallway, making zero conversation as I craned my neck to try to see in every room we passed at once. And there were a lot of them.

I'd seen at least one, maybe two rooms that might've been libraries or perhaps fancy sitting rooms, but he clearly wasn't in the mood to give me a tour.

The next room we reached, he led me into, following the sound of the little boy's hiccupping tears from where he was curled up on the sofa with a tall, older, severe-looking woman standing at his side. Looming over Owen like Jude did so often to others.

She must be Jude's admin, the woman he called Caro.

As soon as Jude entered the room, Owen quieted, his tear-stained cheeks the only remaining sign that he'd even been upset.

"How is he?" Jude asked the woman, barely sparing a glance for his child as he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. Then he rolled his shirtsleeves up to bare his tanned forearms.

Owen was staring openly at his father, his small thumb creeping upward toward his mouth as if he was hoping not to be detected.

The woman let out a long sigh. "His fever is over one hundred."

After a moment or two, Owen seemed to finally notice me behind Jude and he leaned forward. "Baddie!"

I couldn't help a grin. "Hi, Owen."

"You came back!"

"I did."

Then his gaze dropped to our joined hands and lingered.

I'm confused too, kid, trust me.

Owen's big blue-green eyes were far too knowing for a child of his age. I'd certainly never showed such trepidation with my own parents, but then Jude had indicated he hadn't even known of his kid's existence for quite some time. They were obviously still getting to know each other.

"He's been fussy and unable to settle for a while now," Caro said softly.

"Did you try giving him a popsicle?" I asked suddenly, holding my ground when three sets of eyes pivoted my way—and only Owen seemed pleased with my idea if his wide grin was any indication.

"Do we have any popsicles?" Jude demanded.

The woman slowly shook her head. "You need to go shopping."

"I do?" He rubbed his temple with his free hand as if he was suffering from an instant headache at the mere possibility.

"You need more staff," she reminded him. "I know you've never had a chef before, but you don't cook and someone will need to with a child. You can't expect him to only eat takeout and cereal."

"Can't you do it? At least pinch hit?"

"I'm your business admin, not your majordomo."

I had not one clue what a majordomo was, but it sounded important and like a role she had no interest in possibly taking on. Not that I did either, although perhaps it served as both childcare and some sort of capable household staff? I'd be researching it very soon, that was for sure.

"I can go shopping," I offered, giving Owen a quick smile that made him smile back tentatively. "I'm an expert at picking out popsicles, matter of fact. And since it'll be Independence Day soon, that means the store shelves will be full of sales on rocket pops."

Both Keller males stared at me as if I was speaking some foreign language they had no desire to learn anytime soon. Jude's admin managed to almost smile fondly at me.

"Not that sales are an issue around here. But it's still good when you can get the same items for less green."

"Green?" Jude asked.

"Like money?"

Jude returned his gaze to his son. "How are you feeling, buddy?"

Even to me, the buddy sounded wholly insincere. Owen jerked his shoulders and started to turn into the cushions, away from all the prying stares. Then he sat up and cocked his head again. "Baddie?"

"Maddie." I sounded my name out for him carefully though I was growing to love Baddie too. "So, you want more sneakers like we got you the other day?"

The ones currently on his little feet. So cute.

"Yeah. I want more Marvel ones. Like these." He leaned down to tug on his laces, undoing them until I knelt to lace them back up again.

"Have you seen any of the Marvel movies?"

"No."

"Well, the animated Spider-Man movies would be good." I tapped the top of his sneaker. "Kinda like your shoe. That one isn't too bad for your age. Your daddy should rent them on streaming."

"Oh, should I now?" Jude asked edgily.

"Yes. Owen will enjoy it. Or at least my nieces and nephews do. Unless he's not allowed such things."

For a second, I thought Jude's admin had audibly gasped at my temerity, but she hurriedly cleared her throat and made some work excuse if she wasn't needed any longer.

"We've got it from here, Caro. Thank you."

She rushed away down the hall and Owen watched her go. I was truly concerned that little boy was far too used to watching people leave him.

I didn't want to be one of them, but that was up to his father—not me.

"Do you want to come shopping with me?" I asked softly. "With us? As important as more sneakers are, it sounds as if you need other things even more. Like food."

Jude's jaw locked. "At an actual grocery store? I usually get my food delivered."

Well, la-de-da.

"Some of us actually do our own shopping. Pick a store, park, get out. Select our own items. You know, just like we did at the shoe store."

"But that was just one item. Not many."

"We don't have to get a lot unless you need a lot. And sometimes we even use self-checkout and bag them ourselves."

Owen made a strangled noise that almost sounded like a laugh, but when I looked at him, his big blue-green eyes remained solemn on mine. Wasn't a joke like that kind of above a three-year-old's head, anyway?

"Fine. Do you want to shop for more sneakers or food, Owen?" Jude's tone made the question akin to asking if you wanted to streak through town naked during a thunderstorm.

"Food," Owen answered immediately, hopping to his feet.

So much for his illness. Forgotten in the pursuit of rocket pops.

"We should get lunch too. Somewhere. Unless you aren't hungry."

Again, Owen shrugged. I had a feeling he'd have the phrase "whatever, Dad," perfected in no time. I couldn't even say I blamed him.

Jude was new to the whole parenting thing—and if I continued to help them out, I needed to nail these things down. Exactly how long he'd been in Owen's life, where his mom had ended up, was she going to be part of her son's life, and oh, hey, the pertinent details about Owen I clearly needed to know. Like his birthday and his educational level and background.

Not that Owen could know all that much yet, no matter how much early schooling he'd received. But to be forewarned was to be forearmed, as far as I was concerned.

Right now, all I needed to know was if there was any other food he loved besides popsicles. Those I had a feeling would be firmly notched in the win column judging from the excitement in his expression every time I mentioned them.

Otherwise, it was anyone's guess.

"What about hot dogs?"

Owen bounced in place, though yet again, he wasn't speaking. I didn't quite get it because he hadn't been mute the other day.

Maybe he was shy? Didn't have time to get shy with me the other day somehow? I had no clue.

"Hot dogs?" Jude asked out of the corner of his mouth as if my next suggestion would be as good as weed and a forty ounce. Possibly worse.

"Yes. My mom fed them to me in canned sketti, and I turned out just fine." At Owen's curious look, I finally released Jude to tousle Owen's thick sandy hair. "Do you like sketti? Spaghetti," I said slowly. "Then she'd cut up hot dogs and toss them in with the spaghetti. Delicious. My niece Carrington still says it's her favorite meal and she's almost ten. Though Travis puts ground beef in his version, and I don't."

Owen's long-lashed blue-green eyes widened comically. "Ten?"

"Carrington? Yeah."

"She's a big kid."

"Yep, she is." I had to laugh, even as Jude stared silently at the side of my face. I was already becoming kind of an expert at ignoring him when it suited me.

What was the worst thing he could do? Fire me? It wasn't as if he'd even really officially hired me yet, for fuck's sake. Or anything close.

"You wanna see her?"

"Yeah!"

Jude stepped forward as if he was prepared to warn me away from such risky behavior. Children meeting children without prior approval? The horror!

I slipped my crossbody bag over my head and shook it. "A photo is okay for now?"

Jude seemed positively thrilled. Owen, on the other hand, let out a long sigh. "I guess."

I flipped through my wallet insert of photos. I didn't carry many with me, since my family was legitimately ginormous. I simply couldn't carry photos of them all the time unless I wanted to trade in my small bag for something the size of a mini suitcase. Once I landed on Carrington's photo, I grinned and flipped the plastic insert toward Owen. "This is Carrington aka Care Bear. She loves them. Still. Forever."

"Care Bears?" Owen's forehead wrinkled in a similar fashion to his father. I wondered if either of them realized that. It was actually fairly adorable. "Teddy bears?"

"Care Bears are special bears. Not regular teddy bears. We should find you one," I suggested.

"So far, we have to find more sneakers, spaghetti and hot dogs and…" Jude's lips twitched. "Rocket pops?"

I nodded. "Definitely need those."

"Care bear," Owen piped up.

"Okay, a teddy bear."

"Not a teddy," I supplied. "Care Bears aren't the same."

"What the f—" Jude broke off before he swore, and then he blew out a breath as he looked toward the ceiling. "What the hell is the difference?"

"Care Bears are a branded teddy that kids love. It used to be super popular in like my mom's generation but it's had a recent resurgence."

"Your mom's generation?"

I nodded vigorously. "Regular teddies can be lame. I mean, not to me, I used to love them, but some kids can't be bothered. How do you feel about regular teddy bears, Owen?"

Indecision crossed his face, and somehow, I just knew he was going to say he didn't have one. Maybe he'd never had one, for all I knew. "I don't know," he said in a pathetically small voice.

Suddenly, though this kid most likely had access to ten times the money I did, I wanted to buy him two of everything he'd ever wanted.

"Your dad didn't get you one?" I asked pointedly, sliding Jude a sidelong look. Only to see him staring down at my hand as if he'd just realized he was no longer holding it.

Owen shook his head.

"Your mom, either?"

Another head shake, this one even more forlorn. "She's gone now. I don't know where."

Nope, three of everything with a bonus one besides.

"What do you sleep with?"

Owen shrugged. "Nothing?"

The question mark at the end somehow broke my heart a little bit more. How did these people not understand a child needed toys to keep away monsters while he slept? Wasn't that one of the basics?

"Do these questions have a point besides how many failures as a parent can Jude rack up or…?"

"When you know better, you do better. That's learning 101."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of support."

"We can fix it," I said gently.

"Pfft."

"Trust me, Jude. I can handle all of this." Even you.

I rubbed his forearm, unsurprised that it was brutally tense. I had a feeling that the fact he'd shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his muscled forearms was unusual enough.

But hey, it was in the eighties outside. He could afford to take a load off. Also, his forearms were freaking hot.

Since when were forearms a sexy part on a guy? Apparently, Jude checked all the boxes on sexiness, along with not understanding that little kids needed toys.

"I do trust you somehow." He expelled a long breath. "We can't leave here to complete this steadily growing list of errands until I check some of your references. It's imperative."

"Oh, well, if it's imperative , by all means then." I couldn't seem to stop myself from teasing him. "Make it easy on yourself and call the police station. Talk to Officer Christian Masterson. You remember him, right?"

"Busted taillight. I sure do."

I nodded. "He'll tell all the news that's fit to print."

"But he's your brother."

"Even so, he's a hard a—uh, behind cop. He wouldn't lie for me. Trust me on that one."

"He's still your relative."

"With Christian, it depends on the day with him if that grants you any extra leeway."

"If you say so."

"His little boy Jacob has a million bedtime toys. A literal million. I've given him like half a dozen since he was born, and he's barely a couple months old."

"Okay, I'll go make the call while you get this guy ready to go?" Though his voice softened slightly on this guy , he didn't ruffle his hair like I had, or hey, bend to give him a kiss or some other gesture of affection.

He just strode out of the room like Mr. Important and dropped the emotion part of today's program into my lap as if it was my job.

And speaking of jobs, before I went anywhere, I needed to call Mr. Brooks and tell him my car trouble meant I wouldn't be in for my shift. Hopefully, he could get one of the other part-timers to fill in for the evening.

"I have to call my job—my other job—and tell them I had a problem so I can't come to work. My car had to be taken in to the shop. I'll just be a minute," I told Owen, pulling my phone out of my bag.

I hit the number in my contact list for Brooks' Greenery and apologized profusely to my boss when he answered the phone. "I know this is super short notice, and I promise, I'll make it up to you. I'll work a shift whenever you're light on staff this week. Just say the word and I'll figure it out regardless of what I have going on."

As I spoke, my gaze locked on Owen's big, solemn eyes. Who could ever say no to him?

I hoped whatever time Mr. Brooks needed me didn't conflict with Owen's needs. I had a feeling he wasn't at the top of the list with anyone very often, unless it required offering money.

"Oh, Maddie, don't you worry about us here. Your safety and your car is far more important than covering a few hours behind the register. I'll have someone else coming in soon."

"You're all alone?"

"Oh, no, no. Of course not." But he cleared his throat in a way that made me wonder. "Just get that car of yours fixed up now, okay? If you need an advance on your paycheck?—"

"No, I'm fine. I'm all set. I have savings." God, my face was on fire. I fully intended to pay back Jude, and in any case, if I had to return his money in a hurry, my parents would cover me until I could pay them back. Things were a little tight, but I wasn't in a rough enough situation to need to take favors from sketchy men.

Jude didn't strike me as dangerous. My gut told me he was just an overwhelmed new father. Completely out of his element and trying to stay above water while he figured out this whole process.

That was probably why he'd originally asked me to just come home with them after sneaker shopping. Freaked out new dad reaching for a lifeline. Who could blame him?

True, he clearly had stuff I needed to hear more about in his past—like exactly how this whole custody situation with Owen's mom was going to go—but who didn't have some baggage?

I wasn't going to let him slide anything by me simply because I already felt bad for his son. Owen obviously needed an advocate, but it didn't necessarily mean it would have to be me.

Yeah, right, born softie.

"Are you sure, Maddie? It's no trouble to float you a little."

"I'm in good shape, Alan, but thank you." Though Mr. Brooks had asked me to call him by his first name several times before, I was pretty sure this phone call was one of the first times I'd actually taken him up on his offer.

It was just weird calling him anything other than Mr. Brooks when his son was the Police Chief, also known as my older brother's boss.

But I was a grown woman. If I could offer childcare, I could step up to the plate and address my employer as an adult, just as I was.

"You're welcome. Give me a call if you need anything. An advance, a ride, whatever. You know I think of you like my own daughter." He laughed. "Well, if my wife had given me anything but boys, that is."

"I appreciate your understanding, Alan." I bit my lip, staring hard at the door Jude had exited from. Was he still talking to my brother? Or had he not even reached him yet?

A couple moments later, I ended the call, only to find Owen watching me as if I was as fascinating as Bluey or whatever show kids loved most these days. "What's so fascinating, nosy?" Deliberately, I made my tone playful so he'd know I wasn't criticizing per se, but listening in on private conversations wasn't the best move.

He jerked a shoulder in his most often repeated response.

"Did your dad ever explain that you shouldn't listen in when people are on the phone?"

"No."

"Well, it's not a big deal. If it was, I would've gone in another room. But I had to call my boss—my other boss—to explain why I wasn't coming in for my shift at the flower shop."

He pursed his lips, seeming as if he was trying to understand what exactly I meant.

"I might work for your dad too," I added, sitting beside him on the couch. "Hey, do you want to play a game on my phone?"

Making this kid smile more was my current mission in life. Games usually worked for that.

I opened up my games folder and settled on my favorite one, an old school one Christian had gotten me hooked on years ago. "This is a game where you have to fit pieces together," I explained to Owen, showing him the screen filled with colorful blocks as they dropped down from the top. "You have to line up the falling blocks with the ones already in place to make complete lines of them. Here, let me do a couple to show you." I did the next few lines, and then I shifted my screen toward Owen. "See how that works? You want the lines to be complete. You lose points when there are holes in the line. Like that one," I said, tapping the screen.

He frowned, concentrating hard as he got used to playing with my iPhone. Something unexpected happened, and he let out a peal of laughter so excitedly I had no choice but to laugh with him.

Which was how Jude found us a couple minutes later, laughing our heads off on the couch. He strode in then came to a dead stop, staring at us as if he didn't recognize what was happening.

We kept laughing, helped along by me tickling Owen just to make him laugh more.

"What's up?" I asked Jude.

He swallowed hard several times, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he said nothing.

"Did you talk to my brother?" I prompted.

"Yeah, we talked. Pretty sure he'll forbid you to work for me."

"That good, huh? When he pulled you over, I told him I might be your nanny." I ruffled Owen's hair as Jude sat on my other side on the couch.

"Think he tried to block the possibility in his brain. You guys ready to…shop?"

"I am. And I'm hungry too. What about you?" I asked Owen, who had already returned his attention to my phone. He was back to lining up boxes with the fiendish concentration one would never expect from a little kid.

"I mentioned stopping somewhere to eat a little while ago." Jude sounded peeved, and I had a feeling that wasn't rare for him.

"Waffles," Owen said suddenly, lowering my phone to stare hard at me. "Can we get toaster waffles?"

"Do you have a toaster?" I asked Jude.

"What the hell would I do with one of those?"

I sighed loudly. "So, we'll stop at a housewares store too. You okay with that, Daddy Warbucks?"

He frowned again, looking so much like his son it was adorable—and slightly creepy, as if a duplicate mini Jude was sitting beside me. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," I said definitively, lightly poking Owen in his stomach so he felt included too. He stuck out his lower lip then gave in and laughed as if he couldn't help himself. "You ready to go, little man?"

"I am." Owen darted a speculative look at Jude, not relinquishing his grip on my phone.

"Me too." As a duo, we turned our gazes on Jude, who heaved out a long breath as if he was nearing the end of his rope. He really was exasperated, but too bad.

He was about to get a crash course in shopping for household essentials, whether he wanted one or not.