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Okay, not hate him. Maybe just an eight on her dislike scale. Or a seven.
“Hey,” he said to Tess, his smile wary. “Why are you with Em?”
“Well, we were having a slushie.” Tess held up her own cup.
“Mine got smushed. Can I have another?” Emily asked.
Graham reached down, scooping Emily up into a hug. “Gotta have my sugar first.” Dropping a kiss on Emily’s nose, he jerked his head back toward the corner store.
“Yay,” Emily said, dropping her own kiss on Graham’s nose.
Tess’s heart expanded at the pure beauty of a daddy and his girl. And then when she thought about her own father, it split open. Tess had always been daddy’s girl. What was she now that they had no words for each other? It had been almost three weeks since she’d quit Ullo, and a layer of ice had built between them. Still, she could see no way to go back to where she’d been.
“You know, I think I’ll have one, too.” Graham set Emily down.
“Well, I should get back,” Tess said.
“No,” Emily said, tugging on Tess’s shirttail. “Stay with us. Daddy’s nice. I promise. And we’re going to the park today. I can swing myself.”
“Really?” Tess offered her hand up for a high five.
Slapping her hand against Tess’s, Emily spun toward the door of the store, pressing her nose against the glass. Alva must have waved her in because she pushed through, nodding her head and laughing.
Tess and Graham were left alone on the corner.
“Gotta say I was surprised to hear you went to work for Monique. Came out of left field,” Graham said, toeing a cigarette butt.
“Why? I needed a job and I know this business.”
Graham’s gaze rose to hers. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” he said, not offering anything more on the subject.
“Are things going well?”
Tess didn’t answer. Merely looked at him with a “what the hell do you think?” look.
“Yeah.” Graham’s eyes dropped slightly as he studied her lips, then they dropped even lower to where her breasts strained at her too tight T-shirt advertising Big Mouth Sam’s Blues bar. The suggestive slogan “Open Wide” didn’t help, either.
Her mind tripped toward the way she’d run her fingers under his T-shirt, the way she’d licked that little place at the base of his throat, the way he’d tasted, the way he’d felt moving inside her.
Sweet Bessie, Tess. Stop reliving those moments. You can’t allow yourself to go there. You can’t allow your resolve to fade.
“I gotta go,” she said, spinning away, wanting to stretch the tight T-shirt away from her chest, not merely so he’d stop dropping his gaze to her breasts but because she needed to breathe.
“Wait,” he said, his hand closing around her bicep. His touch was warm. He was warm and she wanted to wrap herself in him in spite of hurt that clung to her much like that T-shirt. “Don’t go on account of me.”
“I have to go on account of you. Don’t you get it? I can’t—” She snapped her mouth closed and tried to pin down the reason she couldn’t stay right where she was. Because he’d been a jerk? Because her father had chosen him over her? Because she didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to let go of her hurt? She wanted to nurse it, obsess over it like Gollum and his precious ring, because it felt like that was her right. He dropped his hand. “How about we strike a truce?” Tess started shaking her head.
“For Emily’s sake?”
“I just met your daughter this morning. Presumptive to think I’d do anything for her sake.”
“Then for me. For you. For being grown-up people in a bad situation.”
She wanted to step away and tell him to go to hell. She wanted to lean against him and close her eyes. But she did neither. Instead Tess stood there and looked confused.
