years of survival, and I’m not used to it being turned on me.
“It’s possible I have more in common with Oliver than you know.”
“In what way?” Her brow furrows, and concern fills her pretty eyes.
My throat constricts, and a flight response seizes me. I’ve cracked the door on a past I locked away long ago, and I’m not planning to revisit it. I don’t know what the hell made me do it, and knowing Joselyn, she won’t let it go.
Thankfully, Oliver interrupts our conversation. “Can we get ice cream?”
“Of course.” I lift my chin, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I can check in with Julian and see if he can whip something up for us after dinner.”
“Does Mr. Julian make your food every day?” His little brow furrows like it’s a wholly new concept.
“Not every day. He usually cooks dinner three days a week, and I cover the rest with leftovers or takeout.”
“Don’t you know how to cook for yourself?”
I see Joselyn covering her mouth, and I shake my head. “I hate to disappoint you, but my culinary skills are rather limited.”
“What’s cuuli…” Oliver trails off attempting to repeat me.
“Culinary means of or for cooking.”
“So you can cook some things?”
My lips quirk. He’s smart. “Actually, I make a mean grilled cheese. I can also scramble eggs…”
Joselyn’s face lights up with a smile. “I’d like to try some of your scrambled eggs and grilled cheese.”
“I don’t make them at the same time. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I cooked anything.”
We’re back at the house, and Courtney’s car is in the garage. We left Joselyn’s ridiculous bomb of a minivan back at the apartment complex to throw the ex off our trail. I can’t imagine him looking for them here, although I’d welcome a confrontation with him.
“Mom’s home.” Ollie sits up straighter in his seat.
I turn off the engine and close the garage before letting him out—just in case. “Tell her about the koalas, and I’ll be sure Julian has ice cream on the menu for dessert.”
He jumps out of the car, and Joselyn gives me a warm smile. “Thank you for this. For all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I had a free day, and I wasn’t going to let the two of you wander around the zoo alone. That seems careless.”
Her lips press into a line like she’s fighting a grin, and I’m not sure if she believes me. It doesn’t matter. I need to know if the private investigator I hired turned up anything on Ozzy Clayton. I have no intention of letting that guy get away with what he did to her.
Chapter 25
Joselyn
“Tree frogs can’t swim.” Ollie is sitting on the couch across from Spencer with his little legs crossed. “They have to get water through their skin. They use mucus on their feet to help them climb.”
Spencer looks like end-of-the-day-CEO slash sex-god in dress pants and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His sleeves are rolled up exposing his lined forearms dusted with dark hair, but for all his overt, alpha masculinity, his nose curls at Ollie’s fun fact. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”
I pinch my nose so I don’t laugh.
Chartreuse is perched on the lid of her box on the coffee table while Ollie finishes up his Häägen Daz “Caramel Cone” ice cream. Julien might not have made it himself, but he nuked it for fifteen seconds, making the ingredients all squishy and warm inside the frozen vanilla…
One bite, and I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled back in my head.
I know my toes curled.
Spencer is having a tumbler of what looks like scotch, and they’re watching some nature show on Netflix with the sound off.
Ollie scrapes the last of his ice cream, nodding. “They can climb pretty much anything moist.”
“Did somebody just say moist?” I make a face popping into the room in my Unsolved Mysteries pajamas. “You know moist is Number 2 in Buzzfeed’s Top 12 grossest words.”
Ollie sits up, scooping Chartreuse off her perch and moving away from me on the couch. “What’s Number 1?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” I take his moist bowl off the mahogany table so it doesn’t leave a ring. I’m betting the table is worth something outrageous like ten thousand dollars—like everything else in this mini-museum. “I’ll take this to the kitchen.”
“What are you wearing?” Spencer’s tone is critical as he narrows his eyes at my black flannel pajamas with the bright yellow show logo all over them.
“Only