Chapter Ten
Watching Jude return to the kitchen to refill his glass, Mason knew he only had a narrow window of time before Jude regained his senses and forcibly kicked him out.
He needed to come to a decision.
He hadn’t meant to continue needling Jude about their night together, but he couldn’t deny the strange current between them. He felt he had two choices: he could let their hookup slide and chalk it up to the fact that Jude had been trashed, or, having discovered Jude had stalked his Instagram, Mason could dig deeper and find out if there was anything more behind it than mere curiosity and not, as Jude had said, a simple slip of the finger.
“Why are you still here?” Jude asked when he returned to the living room.
Mason countered, “Why did you look at my Instagram?”
Jude’s face hardened, his pulse hammering in his neck. “I said I didn’t. I don’t need to look at your photos—I don’t care who you date, sleep with, or anything else about your personal life.” He remained on the opposite side of the room from Mason.
So that’s the way it’s gonna be.
And because he could see how much this troubled Jude, Mason chose to back down. Something deeper than their lighthearted teasing kept Jude from enjoying life and loosening up. It obviously hurt him to talk about anything personal, and he didn’t like to see Jude this way. Mason enjoyed their banter, but Jude had decided he was done, and as much as Mason would’ve liked to delve deeper and figure out the cause of Jude’s upset, he needed this job to prove who he was—not to himself, because he knew—but to Doug and Jude. The fuckup they’d said good-bye to ten years ago was gone, replaced by someone with a work ethic.
He had a feeling Doug would be easier to convince than Jude.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. I had some ideas for the candy account.” Without giving Jude a chance to respond, Mason left the apartment.
While it was true he couldn’t afford to live in Jude’s building, there were other apartments near enough to the office he could afford. He scrolled on his phone and came up with at least five real-estate offices within walking distance.
With any luck, he could catch someone staying late, and if not, he’d call and leave a message. Operation Get My Shit Together was underway.
* * *
“What ideas did you have for the candy account?”
Two days later, Jude stood in his office doorway, and Mason forced himself to ignore the jump of his heart. Circles ringed Jude’s eyes, and Mason knew without asking that Jude hadn’t slept well since Ilana had left.
“Hello to you too.” He lazed back in his chair.
“Yeah, sure.” Jude gestured impatiently toward his own office. “Bring your notes.” Without another word, Jude walked away.
Mason shut his laptop with asnapand scrambled after Jude. Once he sat at the conference table, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong? You look like shit.”
“I’m fine,” Jude practically snarled at him. “What do you have to tell me?”
What Mason wanted to tell him was to chill the fuck out, but he held off, knowing Jude would shove the words down his throat. Instead, he opened his laptop.
“The candy company account is being marketed strictly to children, but are you aware they have a retro line, as well as a no-sugar, low-sugar line made with natural sweeteners?”
Jude rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course we’re aware. We’re marketing to older generations, like your parents’ age, and to health-conscious individuals.”
“How? Because while I agree we should be marketing to the baby-boomer crowd specifically through Facebook ads, have we held focus groups to see whether we should concentrate on males or females depending on the candy? The targeting is going to be different. We need to emphasize pricing. Use Google Search ads. Boomers like YouTube videos, Pinterest, and LinkedIn. Have a campaign with groups like that movie—The Big Chill—talking about the candy. Demographics are key here.”
Jude stared at him, and Mason set his jaw. “What?”
“Who are you? You’re speaking my language, and I can’t believe it.”
Instead of laughing it off, Mason’s annoyance spiked, and he leaned forward. “I told you I’m not here to fuck around. As your personal assistant, I know you didn’t hire me to work on accounts, but this is what sprang to mind when I typed up your notes. I told you I’ve been thinking about it.”
“And they’re good thoughts. I appreciate it.”
Mollified, Mason unclenched his teeth. From the office gossip he’d picked up, praise from Jude was a rare commodity.
“Well, thanks.”
