Chapter 12
Frankie
Jude’s stepscrash down the stairs early on Thursday morning, but I’m more than prepared this time. If he thinks a little intimidation will get me to back off, he’s in for a rude awakening. I went all out this morning with a buffet spread after I noticed some of the leftovers from the past few days went missing from the fridge.
He might refuse to eat my breakfast while it’s hot, but his appetite eventually overpowers his resistance. The evidence points at him sneaking a plate when he knows I’m not around.
I fidget with the corner of a square plate of fruit. The berries looked perfectly ripe, and when added to the pineapple I diced yesterday, their luscious color paints a tempting picture. A plate of divided into sausage links and bacon strips sends tendrils of steam curling into the air.
I also got up extra early to bake my favorite breakfast ever—a quiche. An elderly neighbor taught me the recipe when I was in high school. I used to make one on Sunday night to eat for breakfast every morning before school. The ingredients were fairly cheap, and it beat eating cold cereal.
His footsteps stop short of the kitchen entry. I strain to hear his movements. This is a routine of his that I’ve picked up on. The way he pauses before coming into a room. This ritual is at odds with the confidence he normally exudes. I watch the opening, waiting for him to appear.
“Morning,” he grunts, clearly resigned to finding me up cooking. The sleepy rasp in his voice sends tingles up my spine.
I try not to stare too long, but it’s hard when he comes down dressed in his pajamas. He gave up slipping on his jeans after the first day. The soft-looking cotton pants hang low from his hips, drawing my gaze.
“Good morning,” I greet his lower half.
Oh God, is he hard? Those sweatpants are doing the Lord’s work this morning highlighting his package. Generous, if the bulge is anything to judge by. He’s either sporting the remnants of morning wood or he’s just that big. Not that I would have anything else to compare it to. I’ve never seen a penis that wasn’t encased in fabric on the front of a men’s underwear package.
For Christ’s sake, Frankie, stop looking at his junk.
“What’s for breakfast?”
His gravelly voice draws my eyes upward, but not before I trace a slow path up his cotton-covered torso. The hem rises just enough to peek at his abs as he rubs his eyes and reaches back to scratch his neck.
My cheeks flush in embarrassment. If he caught my ogling, I’d never be able to face him again. I’d have to leave town. Maybe even the state.
So flustered by my peeping, I hardly notice his amenable question regarding my breakfast spread. I wave my hands chaotically over the plates in front of us.
“Help yourself,” I blurt.
We both watch his hands as he piles his plate. “Thanks.”
The tiny crack in his defenses feels like a major win this morning. If he’s stopped fighting this, I wonder what else he’s willing to compromise on.
I expect him to take his food and dash, so my jaw nearly falls open when he leans his hip against the counter and settles in. He holds the plate at chest level and digs into my perfect quiche.
Are we… Are we having breakfast together?
What is going on?
The uncertainty spurs my pulse into chaotic beats.
Not wanting to disturb the newfound peace, I quietly pick up the second dish and serve myself a moderate helping. Mine is about half the size of Jude’s plate, but still plenty of food.
I set my breakfast on the island and pop a blueberry into my mouth.
“’S good.” He swallows and dives back in.
I nearly choke. “Th-thank you.”
We eat in silence. Jude studies his plate, and I sneak glances at him. My skin prickles as I wait for a sharpened barb to come out of his mouth.
It never does.
I’d fill the silence with my habitual rambling, but I’m too tired and stunned to speak more than a few words.
With one final clank of his fork against the ceramic, he crosses the room and deposits the dish into the dishwasher.
“Meet me outside in half an hour. We’re taking the dogs on a walk. Wear boots.”
Before I can unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, he leaves the room.
I clean up the kitchen and get ready in a blur. My mind is stuck on our odd breakfast and the day ahead after this unexpected shift.
Has he’s finally adjusted to my presence in his space? I can’t deny how good it feels to finally see him eat the meal I prepared. For the first time, I feel useful here.
Maybe this is our new normal. We’ve worked amicably this week.
Well, Jude worked. I played with puppies until he was done.
Most days, I’ve only managed to piss him off by cooking a breakfast he won’t eat, followed by mundane tasks. He usually gets started before I’ve cleaned up my mess in the kitchen, and no matter how early I try to get up, he finds a way to start working before I’m ready. Then I spend time wandering around the Sanctuary looking for him, only for him to be finished with whatever he was working on by the time I do find him.
He”s taken me into town twice for supplies and once to bring a dog to his sister’s vet clinic. By the time early afternoon rolls around each day, he tells me I can go back to the house.
If working for Jude is truly a job, it’s the easiest one I’ve ever done.
With an exasperated huff, I pull on a black coat hanging by the door. The fabric smells like Jude, and I just barely stop myself from burying my nose in the collar. The action can’t be helped when he just smells that good. I step into the boots he supplied me with and exit onto the front porch.
Jude and his enthusiastic pack meander around the muddy grass. At the sound of the door opening, he turns to find me.
“Come on. I’ll give you a tour of our walking trails.”
He waits patiently for me to catch up. The bright sun stings my eyes, sending a dull throb to my head. The pain reminds me of how I wound up in this situation in the first place, and a fearful pang settles in my stomach.
I remember Dillon. I remember we were in the car. He was driving us out west, and we were talking, and then…
And then…
I frown.
An image of leafless trees and towering pines flashes through my mind, the browns and greens distorted as the car passes quickly by. Open stretches of land separated by dense forests. A fence. Patchy snow yet to melt from the spring temperatures.
Pain.
“Frankie?”
Jude’s voice breaks through the spiral.
“Are you okay?”
The simple phrase sends tears to my waterline. Oh fuck, I might actually cry. I can’t recall the last time someone asked me that question and cared about my answer. Even through the blinding rays of the sun, the concern is evident in his eyes.
I blink until my lashes dry.
“I’m fine.”
“If you need a day to rest—”
“I said I’m fine,” I return sharply. My arm brushes against his as I pass by. The path isn’t hard to miss. The dirt cuts through the brown grass on either side.
Jude’s heavy footsteps crunch over debris behind me. His pace remains steady but slow. His effort not to catch up to me is noted and appreciated. The seconds to gather myself allow me to rebuild my defenses and shove these abrupt feelings down where they belong.
Chirping birds join the rustle of the dogs walking over brush. I drag in a cold breath of morning spring air and feel myself finally settle.
“Do you do this every morning?” I attempt to reset the mood of this walk. Our breakfast was amiable, and I don’t want to ruin our newfound friendship.
“Every day unless it’s storming.” Jude catches up to me and eases his pace at my side. “Some of the dogs get spooked by thunder.”
“I can’t imagine it’s too enjoyable being out in the rain either.”
“Some of them love it. Ashe and Toyota can’t get enough of the cold days. Ramona, on the other hand, won’t step outside if it’s colder than forty degrees.”
I smile, thinking of the sweet, fluffy dog who shares my bed at night. “I’d love to see that sometime.”
“Only if you bathe her after.”
I hold my purple-casted arm between us. “Then let’s hope there isn’t a storm for a little while. I can’t get this wet.”
Jude’s attention drops to my cast. His lips roll together tightly, blanching the skin before he looks away. “Yeah.”
As I lower my arm, our hands brush together. The warmth of his knuckles teases mine. My breath catches. The contact sends an electric sizzle across my broken bone.
What would happen if I didn’t pull my hand away? What would happen if I moved it closer?
Heat spreads across my abdomen, pooling low between my hips at merely the thought.
“There’s a pond up ahead.” Jude points across some land extending beyond the trail, his voice rough. “We’ll go right instead, but I like to let the dogs swim in the summer.”
“Do you swim with them?”
Jude tucks his chin into his shoulder and locks eyes with mine. “Not unless one of them needs my assistance.”
I fluster under the intensity of his stare. “I, um, I hope that never happens.”
“Hasn’t yet.”
He whistles sharply. Any roving dogs follow us to the right. “This loops back around. It’s a good trail, always clean. I take the pack twice a day, but I’d like you to help with the newcomers. They walk on leash only, so you’d only handle one at a time.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“If your arm gives you any trouble, I can find someone else to take them.”
“Is that all you’re going to have me do? Walk a couple of dogs?”
“It’ll keep you busy,” he mumbles.
“Hardly seems like the type of work an employee would do.”
He shrugs. “It’s the type of work I need you to do.”
How can I argue with that? I don’t have a lot of experience working with animals, but he does have a couple of other employees who appear during the day. Maybe there aren’t enough tasks to go around. I just find the circumstances highly suspicious. He offered me a job, yet there isn’t any work for me.
I take in the scenery, the recognizable yet unfamiliar forest, and laugh beneath my breath.
“What’s funny?”
“It’s nothing. I just feel silly. I thought I was lost in these same deep, dark woods.”
“You were lost.”
“I know.” I wave my hand between us. “But if I had pushed a little farther, I would have walked right to your house.”
His warm palm wraps around my elbow, yanking me to an abrupt stop. His dark brows snap together on his forehead, and his expression turns intense.
“You were lost.”
I flit my gaze between his silver eyes, not understanding his meaning.
“My dogs never wander off. Ever. You were so far out there, if Ashe hadn’t disappeared that day, if I hadn’t gone looking for her, I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me to find you.”
My mouth drops open, and a tiny white cloud of air escapes in the chill. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” he mutters darkly. His eyes, clouded with concern, search mine. My chest tenses at his troubled expression.
He thinks I was really in danger.
And he looks pissed about it.
I’m not sure what to do with this information.
“I’m glad you found me,” I say quietly and fidget with the sleeves of my coat.
“Me too.”
The admission illuminates the connection between us. Until Jude breaks it.
With another whistle, he sets off around the loop. I give him a moment alone before I catch up.
“We’re going out tomorrow,” he says.
“We are?”
Just ahead, the trees break, and the trail opens into the grassy lawn. It’s probably beautiful in the summer after a rain when the green is at its brightest.
“Six o’clock. You’ve been cooped up at the Sanctuary too long. I’ll buy you dinner to celebrate your first week on the job.”
Dinner.
With Jude.
Outside the Sanctuary.
He’s barely tolerated having breakfast with me.
This could either be a step in the right direction or an absolute disaster.