Page 17 of Taming the Boss

Good question. “I applied to your job.”

“You did? How do you know it’s mine?”

“You included your address and that’s the lake house you said was yours. The Keller mansion.” My lips twitched. “What’s your first name?”

“Jude.” His forehead tensed as if he’d imparted some great secret.

Weirdo.

“Well, Jude, nice to meet you.” I held out a hand to shake although it took effort for me to keep it steady.

Not that he needed to know that. Time to pretend to be confident again.

Having a fleet of older brothers had taught me well. At least I wasn’t easily intimidated.

When he clasped my hand, holding on for a moment too long and not shaking it at all, the woman still behind us huffed out a breath and flounced off with a muttered, “Bitch.”

“Hey, what was that?” His voice snapped out like a whip as he finally released me and headed after her. “What did you just say?” he demanded, reaching out to grip her shoulder to stop her flight up the street.

Whoa. Tall, dark, and bearded had another setting besides cold.

“Jude, just let it go,” I called after him weakly.

“No. She isn’t allowed to call you names. Apologize to Maddie.”

Her pale blond brows lifted before she crossed her arms over her heaving chest. A chest that was notably larger than mine, I noticed reluctantly.

A fact that was neither here nor there.

“Maybe I was calling you a bitch, not her,” she tossed back before continuing up the street. He just let her go.

I was glad. I didn’t want to be the cause of some hissy fit on Main Street.

Because I damn well knew I’d been the target of her ire. As did Jude from the look he directed after her before he shook his head and returned to me next to his car.

“Listen, can we start over?” he asked after a moment, making me do a double take.

“I don’t know. Can we?”

“That’s up to you.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave his son a genuine smile. “Hey, you kept the other one on.”

Owen stuck out his chin and pursed his lips, saying nothing. Then he began shaking the other foot, trying to dislodge his remaining sneaker.

I tried not to laugh. I really did. Jude maintained his smile for another moment before he shook his head and blew out a breath. “Clearly, praising you for good behavior isn’t the answer.”

“Every child is different. Right, Owen?”

He turned his head toward me and continued moving his leg erratically as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Do you not like wearing your shoes?” I asked carefully. “Are they uncomfortable? Do they not fit right?” Before he could answer, I touched the toe box of the sneaker he still had on, measuring how much room there was around his tiny toes.

Immediately, he made a face and jerked backward. “Does it hurt, Owen? You can tell me.”

He darted a nervous glance at his father before returning his gaze to me and nodding fiercely.

“They hurt, don’t they? Are they too tight?”

He pressed his lips together, looking down. Still rotating the ankle of the foot with the remaining sneaker.

---