Page 18 of Taming the Boss

“If they don’t fit right, your dad wants to know so he can get you a better pair.”

When Jude said nothing, I aimed a hard glance at his profile. He still didn’t meet my gaze. “Don’t you want to get him a better pair? One that doesn’t hurt?”

“He was measured at the store,” he muttered before hissing out a breath and dropping his head backward. “Yes,” he said finally. “I want to get him sneakers that feel good. Ones he loves.”

After a moment, a huge smile broke across Owen’s face.

Triumphantly, I reached out to muss the little boy’s thick sandy brown hair. “I’ll come too,” I said impulsively, “to help make sure you get awesome sneakers.”

“What, I can’t handle the task?” Jude’s tone was edgy.

“You tell me,” I tossed back. “Besides, are you looking for a nanny or not?”

“Why, are you applying?”

“I already have. My resume should be in your inbox. Madison Masterson,” I added, reminding him just in case he’d forgotten.

His dark brow rose haughtily, a look he seemed to wear naturally. “And do you presume your experience and references will be up to my standards?”

“I wasn’t at all certain before.” I glanced at Owen, who was watching our interplay with blatant curiosity. His dark blue eyes were now sparkling with life, not flat as if he was miserable. “Do you have time now?”

Not that I could leave Mr. Brooks in the lurch. But I hadn’t yet taken my hour for lunch yet, so I could take a little time to accomplish a task that would show my innate skill with children.

I hoped.

“Time for what?”

“I have a lunch break coming, so we can go get your son new sneakers.” I huffed out a breath, coming around to the passenger door, which he swiftly opened for me. “What shoe store did you buy them from before?”

“Kids’s Best at the strip mall outside town.”

“Hmm, there are better ones right in the Cove. Just about a mile from here. Family Footwear is local, not part of a chain. Do you have time to check it out now?”

He heaved out a breath and circled the Jag to get in on the driver’s side. “Sure. Fine. Why the hell not?”

Quickly, he swerved away from the curb and he’d gone all of maybe five blocks when a siren went off, alerting him to pull over. I wrenched my neck to try to see which cop was getting out of the black-and-white vehicle stopping him.

Christian. Of course.

“Oh, Lord,” I muttered. “That’s my brother.”

“Your brother? Why is he stopping me?”

Good question. Jude had barely had any time to drive, never mind speed. As soon as Christian came to his door and asked for his license, he looked past him to me. “Maddie? Where are you headed?”

“We’re going shoe shopping for Owen.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder toward the back. “Jude is hiring a nanny.”

“So?”

“I might be it. Maybe. Call it a trial run.”

My brother narrowed his eyes at Jude and then he glanced down at the license he’d taken out of his wallet. “One of your taillights is out. I’m going to need to see your registration.”

“Sure.” Jude leaned over to root through his glovebox, putting him entirely too close to my bare legs. I shifted them out of his way as best I could, but he glanced at them out of the corner of his eye while he sorted through his paperwork.

My brother cleared his throat. “I don’t have all day.”

“Me either.” Jude shut his glove compartment—checking out my legs once more—before he provided his registration and settled back into the driver’s seat.

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