Jude won’t look at me. She answered just a little too quickly. Wouldn’t the reason she’s upset therefore have something to do with me?
Should I call her on it? If there’s something wrong with the deal, don’t I have a right to know so that I can try to fix the problem? Surely she’d have to tell me.
Noah’s warnings flash through my mind. My gut stirs in sudden alarm. And I hate it, hate that I don’t trust her one hundred percent, hate that my own brother is responsible for making me doubt her.
But then again, maybe she really did talk to her father. Jude has told me so little about her family apart from her brother. She doesn’t seem particularly close to her parents. If that’s the case, it’s perfectly reasonable to conclude a call from one of them might upset her.
Maybe I should believe her. Her father might actually have upset her. I know more than anyone just how much that can hurt.
Coming around the table, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her hair. “You haven’t told me much about him, but it seems like you two aren’t close.”
She stiffens. I kiss her hair again and squeeze her, silently telling her that she can tell me if she wants. A moment later, she relents, softening in my arms. “No, we aren’t. We haven’t been in a long time, if we ever were.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, pulling out the chair next to her.
She shrugs, and I think she’s going to write it off, but then she turns to study me and something flashes in her eyes. “Well, I guess I already know all your family secrets, don’t I?”
“Apart from where we keep the bodies hidden, of course.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Tell me,” I prod. And I’m not sure why, but I’m suddenly desperate to know. In the few weeks she’s been here, Jude has learned virtually all there is to know about me, but I haven’t discovered much about her. She largely remains an enigma. I could trace the lines of her body blindfolded and identify her scent in a crowded room. But I know very little about her as an actual person.
Again, Noah’s words echo in my mind. I resolutely shove them aside. This is Jude. Screw what my gut is telling me.
“I’m from Oregon,” she says.
I nod. “That’s where NBI is headquartered.”
“Yes, but I’m also from there. I grew up in a rather well-off neighborhood outside of Portland. My father’s a banker and my mother has worked in the city’s budget office forever. They met at some function.”
“And they got married?”
“Yeah, eventually. This really isn’t an interesting story, you know,” she suddenly says. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
I nod again.
She sighs, fiddles with her phone almost self-consciously.
“Tell me,” I whisper again, my words a soft plea.
Her shoulders slump. “They had me first a couple years into the marriage. My brother came a year later. And you know, to this day I swear they did it only for the status symbol. Like it would have just been too weird not to have any children. Like their business associates would have found it odd or something. My father sits on a lot of boards, and he’s always been about keeping up with appearances. People would have started talking, you know. If the Shaws weren’t a perfect little family. We certainly couldn’t have that.
“So my mother squeezed us out, and then within weeks was back at work. I had a wet nurse. Really. A wet nurse. What is this, two hundred years ago? But no. Apparently, while she wasn’t going to raise us herself, my mother determined we’d still get the best childcare. Not because she cared about our own welfare, but rather because of how it would look poorly on her otherwise.”
“That’s … pretty harsh,” I say.
“It’s the truth,” Jude snaps.
“No,” I say quickly, “I meant pretty harsh for you. And your brother.”
She relaxes, huffs a sigh. “Yeah, it was. Anyway, we were raised by nannies. I think I told you that before. That’s pretty much the end of it.”
“So you and your brother must have been close,” I say. “That’s what happened to me and my brothers after our mom passed, and especially after our father died. Without my brothers—”
“You wouldn’t have made it,” she says sadly. “Yeah. I get it.”
I wince. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know you weren’t alone in feeling that.”
Jude stares at me for a long time. “You know, you’re a really good person, Nathan. Better than me. You should be proud of that. Your parents would be proud to see who you’ve become today.”
I duck my head, unexpectedly blushing. I don’t want any compliments from her; I just want to know who she is as a person, soak up all of her secrets, have the very essence of her sink into my soul.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “that’s because I’m sickeningly good-looking and amazingly incredible in bed.”
She snorts. “And modest. Don’t forget that.”
I grin. “That, too.”
“So yeah,” she continues, “my parents are all about reputation, being proper. Exhausting shit like that. And James figured that out real quick and loved to throw it back in their faces by getting into trouble. They were so horrified that it was like they tried to pretend he didn’t even exist for many years. I don’t even know how you do that to your own child. I don’t get them. At all. And hate that despite everything they’ve done to me and did to my brother, I still feel a familial obligation to maintain a relationship with them.
“But then James got famous. At least in the Pacific Northwest area. Everyone in the climbing community knew about him. A couple of NGOs wanted him to be the face of their green initiatives. And suddenly my parents started to tolerate him. So disgusting. Then James had his accident, and, well. That was that. It was my fault, naturally, for not keeping him in line. They might have been his actual fucking parents, but no, I was there and should have forced him to go to the hospital.”
“That’s revolting,” I say.
She laughs bitterly. “Indeed. What little relationship I had with them cooled. Now I barely see them except during holidays and whenever they need me to attend some important function to make them look good. It’s a very toxic relationship.”
“Have you ever considered moving away? To escape their influence?” I say, surprised I’ve dared to ask the question and unwilling to admit to myself I’m actually holding my breath to hear her response.
“You know,” she says, staring into my eyes, “I’ve never considered that. Until recently.”
A strange feeling takes hold of me. Heat rolls through me, then ice. I shiver. My stomach twists in … what? Nerves? Excitement? Desire?
Is she saying what I think she is? That she’s only started thinking about it because she’s been here? With me? The feeling grows, clutching my heart with what I suspect is hope. Hope for a future where Jude and I mean more to each other than just potential business partners.
“I could really use some food,” I say, suddenly unnerved. I need to put some space between us, wrap my mind around precisely what I feel for Jude Shaw.
Climbing to my feet, I stalk over to the refrigerator and pull out items to make a sandwich. I’d been ravenous when I finally closed out for the night, but now food has lost its appeal. I need something to do with my hands, though, to distract myself from the serious turn this conversation has taken, so a sandwich it is.
“By the way,” says Jude once I’ve finished making my food and brought it back to the table, “do you have any Old Abe’s on hand for when this deal is signed? I don’t think I ever asked you how much you have in stock.”
I shove my sandwich into my mouth, forcing myself to chew and swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. As unappetizing as my food was a minute ago, it tastes like garbage now.
Christ, was Noah right all along? Is there really something more going on here? Is this thing between us merely a ruse to get more info out of me?
Nausea rolls through me. This is the second
time she’s asked this question. She did before, when she went looking in my closet and pretended she was looking for my secret stash because she just had to have another taste of Old Abe’s.
Why is she lying? Why is she acting like she’s only just now thought to ask? Did she just forget she’s already asked me?
Or is she hiding something?
How important is the answer? And is the fact that I own over forty barrels a good thing or bad? Why go about finding out in such a circuitous fashion? If the answer isn’t a big deal, why not just ask it outright?
“Is this you or Northwood asking?” I say, stalling for time.
She shrugs casually, but it’s not quite casual enough for me. Now that I’m looking, I notice the tension in her shoulders. “Both of us. It’s a fair question. If we strike a deal with you, we’d need to know how quickly to accommodate you into our delivery schedule.”
And that’s true. I take another bite. On the face of it, any company I partnered with would want to know that. But there’s just something not quite … right about the question. She won’t look at me again. Her face looks exactly like it did when she got off the phone. Is that really who she was talking to after all?
Did she just tell me all of that about her parents to distract me? That would be … horrible. Awful, actually. I’ve always told her my most painful family secrets in a moment of intimacy, of understanding between us. As a way to grow closer.
That she might use that tactic against me to distract me from the deal … I can’t imagine it. Just the idea sickens me. That I might believe that of Jude sickens me more.
Maybe Noah was right. Maybe I’m his twin for a reason, but something in me hesitates in telling her the truth.
Noah was right. I’m out of my league here. What’s the correct thing to do?
I look at her. Really look at her. Stare-into-her-soul, try-to-discover-her-every-secret look at her. How much do I know about Jude? Just a few minutes ago I was hoping she wants to stay in Ovid. Now I’m wondering if this really is all a ruse.
This is ridiculous. This deal is too important to fuck up. What do I trust? My instincts, that have carried me my whole life, or this woman, who occupies my every thought? What if she leaves? What if she stays?
Jude matters to me. There it is. I’ve grown to care about her. Precisely how much so, I’m not sure yet, but I definitely care. And desire the hell out of her. I simply like her. It’s that simple. I don’t respect anyone outside of my family more than I do Jude Shaw.
That she could potentially be in the process of betraying me sickens my very soul. My heart rejects the notion, even while my mind forces me to consider it.
But the fact that she could hurt me at all proves I’m too attached. This thing has gone way too far. My emotions need to stay out of it. If Jude screws me, I’ll be ruined, both financially and emotionally. Even if she doesn’t, her leaving is going to hurt. I refuse to fall into the same trap my father did. I won’t love a woman, just to wither away when she goes. The pain is never worth it.
Ever.
So I take another bite. And then I lie. I don’t mention the barrels and barrels of Old Abe’s I have in my secret inner supply room. And like she just did to me, I avoid her gaze as I answer.
“What you see is all I have. I’m on my last case.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jude
Five days before Northwood is set to return to Ovid, I’m holed up in a corner of the packed bar. It’s a weekend, so everyone is at Abernathy’s and Nate is therefore forced to leave me alone to prepare our presentation for Northwood.
Northwood still doesn’t know Nate is virtually out of Old Abe’s. I haven’t told him the truth because I still can’t figure out why Northwood wanted to know in the first place. The obvious conclusion is that a large supply bodes well for any potential distributor, but I swear Northwood wants the opposite. And whenever I try to get him to admit his real plans, he changes the subject.
I’m also not certain Nathan told me the truth in the first place. For someone who’s running low on supply, he sure does drink it whenever he wants. I don’t think I’ve ever missed him holding a glass of it behind the bar, sipping steadily in between fulfilling orders for people.
And then he hesitated before answering when I asked him the other day. Is he almost out of Old Abe’s? If that’s not true, why lie? Shouldn’t he want to share that with NBI? That would mean he can distribute all the sooner.
None of this makes any sense.
Nathan suddenly pushes through the crowd. I smile up at him, glancing over his shoulder toward the bar. “Shouldn’t you be manning the bar? It’s packed.”
He smiles at me. “My other bartender has it handled temporarily. I wanted to see how you were doing. Still working?”
“Were you wearing that shirt earlier?” I say in confusion. I could have sworn he was wearing blue before.
He glances down, then laughs and shrugs. “Someone knocked into me as I was delivering drinks and spilled theirs down my shirt. I had to change quick.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. “Hope none of the glasses broke.”
He laughs again. “It was a close call, but no.”
I stare at him for a long moment. He raises a brow in question. “Uh, have a seat,” I say. “I’m just working on the presentation.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I say, attention drawn to the screen. “Apart from the noise distracting me, I’m getting through it. Northwood should be pleased.”
“That’s good. When did you say he was coming again?”
I spare him a glance. “The end of this upcoming week, remember? I told you that yesterday.”
“That’s right. I thought it was then. It’s been about a month, after all.”
“Uh huh,” I say, returning to my computer.
“So Northwood’s really going to sign?”
“He said he just needed that last info from us. Why wouldn’t he? We just needed to supply that … wait, why is this slide here?”
“We just needed what?”
“Huh?” I say absently, then refocus on him. “What do you mean, what? You were there, remember? He needs better figures for your expected output based on what John’s going to let you use of his facilities. And he wants me to figure out if you’ll have enough peaches from Axel’s farm.”
Nate snaps his fingers in sudden remembrance. “Oh right. Of course.”
“Which reminds me,” I say, tapping a key to move a few slides forward in the presentation, “this section about John’s warehouse? I can’t remember if it has four combos on the left side or five. There were five along the back wall, but I’m pretty sure only four on the left. Didn’t they have an extra mash tun on the back wall? For additional fermentation or something? Or was it just a still?”
“Hmm, yeah,” says Nathan. “Let me have a look?”
Confused, I push the computer over to him. What? He doesn’t know? How many times has he used this equipment before? Either he’s not as skilled as he made himself out to be during that tour, which makes no sense, or—
“You’re not Nate. You’re Noah.”
His head whips toward me. Surprise flickers across his face before his expression turns neutral. “What gave me away?”
“Are you serious?” I snap. “Your brother’s been using that facility for how long now? And he suddenly doesn’t know which machinery is where? You’re kidding, right?”
He leans back, pushing my computer away from him, his gaze never leaving mine. “It’s not often that people can tell the two of us apart.”
I snort. “Yeah, well, most people aren’t experts in the subject only one of you understands. But I am. You couldn’t possibly have bluffed your way through this conversation.”
Noah folds his arms over his chest. “I think I was managing just fine.”
“Yeah, sure. Only because I was distracted by the slides. The minute I actually started paying attention t
o what you were saying, I knew something was off.”
He stares at me consideringly. “Still. Most people don’t look for what they don’t think is there.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what this is about?” I say. “This clearly isn’t a social call. What were you hoping I’d tell you while thinking you were Nate?”
His mouth thins. “What makes you think that’s the case?”
“Why else would you make the attempt?”
“Perhaps I was bored. Perhaps I wanted to play a little prank on you.”
“You don’t have a prankster’s bone in your body.”
His brows raise. “That’s quite an assessment. Nathan tell you that?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve gathered that myself, based on the limited interactions I’ve had with you. Everything you do is for a reason. So tell me what that is. Now.”
Noah gives me another long look, this one tinged with respect. Well, great for him. He should know that not everyone’s a dupe.
“My brother might be new to the world of business, but something tells me you know how the game is played, Jude.”
“Don’t try to flatter me, and don’t bother befriending me either,” I say. “I may be close with your twin, but let’s not kid ourselves. You and I are not friendly. Particularly not after this.”
Noah nods his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough.”
“So out with it,” I snap, closing the lid of my computer. If he’d just asked outright from the beginning, I would have shown him the presentation, but since he felt he had to go to such lengths to con the information out of me, I’m suddenly skeptical of showing him. What does he really want?
Noah leans forward, resting his elbow on the table. “All right then. I want to know this. Are you sleeping with my brother to screw him on this deal?”
“How dare you?” I hiss.
He stares at me blankly, clearly content to wait until I answer. There will be no relenting from this man.
“Whether I am or am not sleeping with your brother has nothing to do with this deal.”
“Is that so.”
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