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Right.
Stay on task.
Get Jude to talk and actually help him.
“Another bathroom,” Jude says, gesturing for a powder room off the dining room.
I note there aren’t mirrors in here either. Not surprised.
We pass by some French doors. And I stop to see if he’ll talk about what’s in there. When he realizes I’m not following, he screeches to a halt and darts his gaze back and forth between the doors and me.
“Grandpa. He naps at this time of day. Violet wakes him for dinner. You’ll meet him later.”
Okay then.
He takes me down another dark hallway past the pristine and severely outdated living room. When we reach another set of French doors, he bursts through them. The light flickers on and I’m met with a room full of gym machines and weights. No mirrors here either. Shocker.
“This is how we stay trim around here. Violet likes to fatten us up.”
His tone is softer than usual. Sweet almost. He clearly loves that woman as much as she loves him. This is good. He’s not a lost cause.
“Who is we?” I ask.
“Grandpa will do some of the smaller weights in here with me sometimes.
The thought of him and his grandpa working out together softens me even further toward him. He really does love his family. Yes, he’s extreme in his efforts to protect him, but it’s admirable.
“Am I allowed to use this gym?”
He turns, skimming his gaze over my body as though trying to remember how scrawny I was in just my towel. His Adam’s apple bobs and then he nods once.
Sweet.
Free gym membership.
After the gym, he takes me down to the end of the hallway. Beyond that door is the best room in the house. The room is large with windows that take up most of one wall that faces Park Mountain. Beside the gargantuan windows are floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books. Toward the tops of the shelves are dustier, older-looking books, but the ones closer to the bottom are colorful and clearly more modern ones. I approach one of the bookshelves and pluck a book out.
A popular thriller.
“Grandpa,” Jude says. “He reads a lot. Sometimes I come in here and pretend to read with him.”
My heart squeezes at that statement. He pretends to read so he can sit in the quiet with his grandfather. Maybe me moving in here was a great idea. I’m uncovering a lot more about Jude than I ever imagined. Certainly gives me better tools to work with.
“I’ve read this one. It’s really good.” I grin at him. “Maybe I can come read one day with you both.”
Jude gives me another sharp nod. “The door closes and there is plentiful seating here. You may take your sessions in here with my family.”
The library is my new office?
Not going to argue with that one.
I mosey around the office, admiring the titles of many books I’ve read and loved, and also making a mental note to check out others later to read. Jude stands sentry by the windows, watching my every move but hardly making any movements himself. I’m engrossed in reading the blurb on the back of a thriller from the ’80s when I hear a low whining sound.
Whipping around, I face the doorway to learn the sound is coming from that direction. Jude doesn’t appear to be startled, so I wait patiently until the sound appears visually in the doorway. A frail, white-haired elderly man with a scowl looks at Jude before turning his attention to me.
“Violet tells me we have a guest and that I must make your acquaintance,” the man says grumpily, the oxygen line hooked under his nose wobbling as he speaks. “Wyatt. Who are you?”
I set the book down on the table before approaching him with a smile. “Tate. Tate Prince. I’m—”
