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He pulled out some folded papers from his jacket pocket and placed them on the table, followed by a pen.
“I want you to read over these forms, then sign them. If you have any questions, let me know.”
She nodded, a bit confused as to why there were so many sheets, but did as he asked. As she read page after page, her heart nearly beat out of her damn chest. All he’d asked in advance was a copy of her driver’s license, which she’d sent via email. But on those papers was printed her whole damn life story.
Her past marriage, including her ex-husband’s name and where he currently lived. The date that the courts awarded Ayanna to her. Her brief stint in college for two semesters, and cosmetology school, too. A car accident she’d practically forgotten about, when a friend of hers was driving and the damn thing flipped—she’d been only seventeen at the time. He had her mama’s name, her deceased daddy’s name, everything.
“Why would you need all of this for me to watch yo’ friend for a few hours a damn week? This feels like an invasion of my privacy. Why would you then attach all of this to the two-page contract? What’s the point?”
The server returned, poured their glasses of wine, then retreated. Jude took a leisurely sip of the wine, then set it back down. He flopped back into the seat and smiled at her, gorgeous hooded eyes fixed on her.
“I don’t trust no damn body…” The air seemed to grow colder as he spoke in a deep voice. “Those are the results of your background check. The one I told you I was going to run. You lied to me.”
“It was just some weed. I was twenty. Besides, only God can judge me.”
“I’m not mad about it.” He waved his hand as if to say, ‘So what?’ “Just letting you know that whatever I want to know, I can find out. I have to be careful who I let around Eli, so it’s best to just tell me upfront.”
“You’ve got some nerve, sir. Talkin’ about lies…” She huffed. “You must think I’m some damn fool.”
“I’m not usually attracted to fools, so what do ya mean?”
She grabbed her glass of wine and swallowed half of its contents, not caring how she appeared.
“Your vocation is in question, sir.”
Instead of looking miffed, the man smiled. The fact was, she actually wasn’t certain what the hell Jude did to make such a life for himself. How he could afford the clothing, jewelry, the vehicles he drove, and so much more. She’d looked up his house on Zillow, purely out of curiosity, and the bastard’s crib was worth a half a million dollars.He isn’t the only one checking backgrounds.
She had suspicions, mainly because of what some of the people who seemed to recognize him would say, and how they looked. Most of the folks in that late night hour, calling this guy ‘Judge,’ were addicts. Track marks up and down their arms, forlorn smiles… Even Lark suspected a couple from her time spent in the throes of addiction to heroin. What had struck her most was how these people would light up when they’d see him… like he was damn near Santa Claus.
“I know you ain’t no beer maker. I know that.” She huffed. “You the ice-cream man… but ain’t no ice-cream in that truck of yours.”
“I knew that if you didn’t realize it right then, you’d figure it out soon enough, but what I told you wasn’t a lie. Idoin fact own a beer distillery.” He then pulled out his phone and pulled up some photos of him standing in front of some big building that definitely looked like a distillery. Then another showing several people, clad in suits and all smiles, holding up some plaque that read, ‘Best Hops in Town.’ He also showed her a couple of articles about his company, naming him as the owner and CEO.
“Hmph.” She looked away.
“I told you.” He laughed. “Now you’ve got egg on your face.”
She looked over the papers again as they discussed inconsequential things, such as the sudden downpour that morning, and the cost of gas. The contract appeared pretty straight-forward, so she signed it. It basically stated that she was on a two-week trial basis, and then they’d go from there.
“Tell me what you want to do with your life, beautiful?”
Every time he called her that, her stomach knotted. Her thighs tightened when he parted his plush lips. Her breathing would accelerate and her physical attraction to him felt almost wrong… like something to be afraid of. Guarded. Hidden away.
“I want to own a boutique. I like clothing, and I want to use local designers, and have a section for consignments from well-known brands, too.”
“That’s a good idea. What’s your plan to achieve this?” He clasped his hands.
She’d never had a man ask her such things—not one that was interested in her romantically, that is. It felt strange, in a good way.
“I’m savin’ up money, fixing my credit so I can get a loan, and I’m going to move to another neighborhood once the school year is over. It’s funny that you offered me a job when you did.”
“Really? Why was it funny?” He cocked his head to the side and slipped his tongue along his lower lip, and that rollercoaster ride in her gut started all over again.
“Because I had been looking for jobs online earlier that afternoon, something I could do from home, for less than twenty hours a week.”
“Well, that worked out well, didn’t it?” He took another sip of his wine. “Why do you keep lookin’ away when I look at you?”
“That star tattoo on your face is distracting.”
