Chapter 8
Frankie
“I’ll give you thirty-five.”
I lean my unbroken arm against the glass case and smirk at the burly, woodsman-looking guy behind the counter.
“Come on. It’s worth at least fifty.” I swallow hard against the rubber lump caught in my esophagus. At least one of my sweaty palms is hidden in my splint. The other I wipe discreetly on Jude’s stolen sweatpants.
Swiping thick fingers through his beard, the man regards me with curious brown eyes. The corners crinkle as he considers my counteroffer. A phone rings from beyond the ajar door at his back.
“Hang tight, and I’ll have an answer for you after I take this.”
I smile and nod, playing the part of a normal citizen in need of a few bucks and not a newbie klepto who’s trying to hock her savior’s watch for a freaking bus ticket. I don’t have a few minutes. Jude has more than likely already discovered my absence.
I bounce my gaze around the small shop filled with what I assume is a bunch of junk. Long-forgotten memorabilia and relics line outdated wooden shelves. A few big ticket items stand dusty and forgotten in this small town. The sight of the front door delivers a regular hit of adrenaline. My muscles tense, ready to haul me out of here at the first sign of trouble.
“Was this watch a gift?” The clerk’s question recaptures my fickle attention.
“Hm?”
“Men’s watch. Dainty wrist. Can’t help but wonder where you got such a nice piece.”
My breath catches. “How nice?” Oh god, did I steal a family heirloom?
“I mean, it’s not a Rolex. But it’s well crafted.”
I raise a cynical brow. “So what’s with the lowball offer if it’s such a nice piece?”
He studies the watch in his hand, then looks at me. “About that.” His gaze drifts over my head.
“You’ll meet me at fifty?” I question hopefully.
“Nah. The offer is rescinded. I can’t give you a dime for this.”
My jaw drops. “Why the hell not?”
He leans across the glass case on a determined elbow. “Because I don’t take stolen property.”
Fuck.
The clerk straightens and lifts his chin. “Hey, Jude.”
“Clayton.”
That singular word in that voice sucks all the air from my lungs. Dammit, Frankie! I knew I should have taken my chances hitchhiking.
“Thanks for hanging onto my watch for me,” Jude says from my back.
Maybe if I don’t turn around the floor will open up and swallow me whole. God, I’m not a coward, but I didn’t think I’d have to face him until after I got out of this town.
“Anytime,” Clayton says, an obvious smile in his voice. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Can I speak to you outside, Frankie?”
Without meeting Jude’s eyes, I precede him outside. I walk a few paces away to clear the entrance before I stop.
“I’m sorry, okay? I can explain.”
A shadow eclipses me as Jude keeps on his way down the sidewalk. His large strides swallow the delineated squares as I jog to catch up. My arm throbs with the movement. The bright sun overhead reignites a dormant headache. A painful reminder to slow down.
“I thought you wanted to talk!”
Jude settles in a sprawling seat on a bench, knees bent and elbows pressed against them. The silver watch gleams where he clasps it in his large hand. His thumb strokes over the face almost with an absent reverence, feeling the surface without smudging the glass.
“My dad gave this to me. It was actually the last thing he gave me before he died.”
“Jude, I didn’t mean—”
“Just tell me why you took it,” he says softly. “So I can understand.”
I swallow hard against the gritty feeling in my throat. “I needed some cash for a bus ticket.”
“You’re supposed to be resting for two days.”
I sit next to him on the wooden bench. He keeps his gaze firmly averted, so I study his masculine profile. The scar beneath his eye is extra pale in the sunlight. I wish he would just look at me. Maybe then he could read the sincerity in my admission.
“Look. I only meant to pawn it for collateral. The guy said I’d have thirty days to pay back the loan. I was going to take a bus home and mail you a check so you could go pick it up. I was just borrowing it.”
“Like you borrowed my van?”
He looks at me then, a brow tilted over his gray eyes in challenge of my disastrous plan. I can’t help but notice the slight twist to his full lips.
“I’m assuming you found it?”
He ignores my question for one of his own. “What’s your plan now?”
I huff humorlessly. A pale breath floats above us in the cool air. I’m jealous of the vapor. Of the way it swims and disappears as if it were never here. “I don’t have one.”
“What would you like to do? If you could pick anything.”
“I’d like to start over,” I blurt without thinking.
Jude is silent for so long that I can hear a conversation between two chipper birds. Their back-and-forth song serenades us in the silence. I find my attention drifting across the quiet street. The strip of buildings contains a flower shop, a café, and a post office. The simple main street reminds me of my hometown. For some reason, I don’t find the place connected to home comforting as I do here.
“How about this? You stay and come work for me. I can’t pay you a full salary, but I can provide a room and meals with part-time pay for as long or as little as you need.”
“That seems too generous and hardly fair.”
Jude releases a short laugh. Abrupt, as if he cut himself off when he realized what he was doing. The brief sound leaves me unsatisfied and wanting more. “You haven’t ever worked around fifteen dogs. The mess they make can be shocking.”
My heart stutters in my chest before doubling its pace. The offer teases me of the new beginning I crave. A no-strings opportunity in a comforting small town, and I can’t forget about all the dogs.
Not to mention, the gift of time. Time to figure out my next move and time for my memory to return in case I have to face Dillon again.
“Are you sure? We haven’t exactly gotten along.”
“The dogs will love you.”
I cross my arms. “I meant you and I.”
Jude teases his bottom lip as he pauses. “I think you and I will get along just fine.”
Just as my emotions crest at the thought of new beginnings, they come crashing back down twice as fast.
“I’d love to. Truly. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to be way more trouble to you than I’m worth.”
“I’m not sure you could be more trouble than you already are, but go ahead. Spell it out for me.”
I avert my gaze in case the sting in my eyes turns into a waterfall. “I have nothing. I mean, look at me. I’m not even wearing my own clothes. I don’t even have on underwear.”
“Jesus,” Jude mutters. He clears his throat and shifts. His thigh bumps into mine. Even that small point of contact injects me with warmth.
“I just couldn’t put on the same dirty pair after my shower last night,” I ramble on.
“Don’t worry about that stuff.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Jude—”
“I said…” He leans into my line of sight. His hand rises as if he’s considering touching me before it falls to his side. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”
I’m trapped in his searching silver gaze. I shake my head quickly.
“Then let’s get you back to the house. We can grab breakfast at the café across the street.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” I don’t even want to begin to mentally tally the amount of money Jude’s just offered to spend on me. Room and board, plus clothes? “Why are you doing this?”
“Hm?” Jude’s size shadows the sun in my eyes.
I exhale a shaky breath. “I asked why are you doing this?”
He stares down at me, a pause lingering between us.
“Call it a mutual benefit. I have an employee on leave and could use the extra hands. A couple of hundred bucks to get you on your feet isn’t going to dent my bank account.”
I suspect the real reason is deeper than Jude wants to dig at this moment.
He jerks his head toward the café. “I’d like to get off this sidewalk and have some breakfast.”
“Is someone hangry?” I tease gently.
“Sure am. I had to chase my van into town before I had a chance to eat.”
A flush paints my cheeks pink. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad, Frankie. Just hungry.”
The resistance leaks from my body with each step across the street to the café. I’ll never ask him for anything, but as my stomach lets loose a loud rumble, I’d say I’m hungry too.