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“Gorgeous,” she managed to get out without choking.
Daisy had attempted to braid his beard into about a half dozen braids. However, her little fingers weren’t dexterous enough to do so. Instead, she had twisted the wiry length of facial hair into what almost looked like loose dreadlocks. Actually, it made the lower half of his face look like Medusa.
“Wow. I—” She slapped a hand over her mouth just as a giggle escaped.
“Judge said Jury could be my dog when he moves in.”
That sobered her up quickly. Cassie hadn’t heard him answer Daisy during her ramble, so she knew that wasn’t true. “I doubt that. And what did I say about lying?”
She huffed and planted her hands on her narrow hips. “It’s not a lie, Momma. Maybe I’m just mistaken.”
Oh boy. She was in trouble. If she was like this at five, she couldn’t wait until Daisy was fifteen. Fiveteen. That was what she was right now.
“Jury is Judge’s dog and he’s not moving in. We don’t even live here, Daze. We’re only staying with Aunt Heather and Uncle Tyler until we find our own place.”
“When we find it, we can all move in together so Jury can be my dog.”
Out of the mouth of babes...
Her gaze hit Judge’s and he wore a slight smirk. She rolled her eyes and decided it was best to end that conversation before it became too uncomfortable. Instead, she made her way into the kitchen and asked loudly, “Who’s ready for the best French toast in the whole wide world?”
She smiled when a loud “Me!” came from both of them at the same time.
Chapter Seventeen
It should be a goddamn happy occasion, but Judge wasn’t feeling it. Not one fucking bit.
He and Deke kicked the bushes in Rochester for almost three days—three long fucking days—and they came home with nothing but a pile of steaming dog shit to show for it.
Deke was almost as frustrated as him. Even though Judge didn’t want to stop searching for Lange until he found him, he had no choice. They had run out of time. He had a fucking business to run and their search up in New York kept running into dead ends.
The man had simply fucking disappeared.
Usually a trace was left. Something. But even Deke—as good as a skip tracer as he was—wanted to give up.
The man had left no paper trail at all. The Langes’ credit cards and bank accounts had been frozen. Their vehicles had been repossessed.
Dennis Lange couldn’t have gotten far unless he had someone financing him in cash. The local bondsman said he’d already talked to all his friends and his sister, plus a few cousins, and he couldn’t find shit, either.
The only thing him and Deke could guess was Lange had stashed some scratch somewhere, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. Even so, they both had a tough time believing a gambling addict could save enough money before spending it. Gamblers usually chased the high of the next bet, thinking they would hit big enough to cover their previous losses. They never did, because on the slim chance they won big, they doubled down on the next bet.
Only one more bet.
Just one more.
And one more.
Until there was nothing left, and they hit the bottom of the empty barrel.
But Judge wasn’t giving up. It would just take longer than expected to find Cassie’s husband and make him an ex.
He also hated seeing the disappointment in her eyes when he came back to town late Friday night and went immediately to Crazy Pete’s to let her know. By the time he got there, the Friday night crowd had thinned, the local band had packed up and left and she had time to talk to him as he sat at the bar, having a few beers and watching her work.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off her ass, tits and her smile as she moved around the bar, working on making some big tips.
He had been impatient to give her his tip after her shift.
As soon as she’d closed up, he followed her home, they both checked on a sleeping Daisy and when she wasn’t looking, he slipped cash out of his own wallet to pay the babysitter. Then he fucked her once, and only once, before they both fell asleep exhausted.
The next morning, they woke up with Daisy and Jury between them because they, in their impatience to get naked, had forgotten to lock the door. Luckily, Cassie’s daughter hadn’t slipped under the sheet because neither of them had thought to pull on any clothes after they collapsed. Which could have been more uncomfortable than the hand Daisy had fisted tightly in his beard as she slept.
Saturday night, both of them double-checked the lock. And both a dog whining and a child bellowing outside the bedroom door the next morning not only woke them up but gave them time to cover the important shit.
