“My gramma has akitty.”
“My grandma does, too.”Then I rolled my eyes, and added, “Well, actually,Ihave a kitty, but when I movedinto Grandma’s house, Harriett ditched me to take up permanent residence on theold woman’s lap. But let’s be honest—Harriett neverlikedme. Shetoleratedme.”
The little girl noddedsagely, as though I’d just given her the most crucial bit of information she’dever received. “What’s your name?”
“My name’s Tessa,” Itold her, smiling fondly. This was the most interaction with another humanbeing I’d had since taking Grandma to get her corns removed. “What’s yours?”
“Shelly,” she replied,suddenly bashful. Her chin tucked under and she clutched the wand to her chest.
“Well, it’s very niceto meet—”
“Shelly!” the dude fromthe bar shouted. Startled, I looked toward him and saw his arm waving, trying tograb the little girl’s attention. “Don’t bother the nice lady, okay? Why don’tyou go play with some of your toys?”
“Italkin’to Tessa,” Shelly answered, not sparing any attitude.
With a heavy sigh, hegrabbed a rag and dried his hands as he sauntered out from behind the bar.Suspenders and jeans. It was a good look and I nodded approvingly. This guy wasevery bit a hipster in a middle-aged body. I could dig that.
“Shelly,” hereprimanded gently. “Tessa …” He glanced toward me for clarification, and Inodded. He smiled. “Tessa is a little busy right now, okay, honey? How about wefind something else for you to do?”
Shelly looked to me,confirming that what he was saying was true, and I shrugged. “You shouldprobably listen. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
She sighed, and thenasked, “Youwannaplay?”
I laughed. “Oh, Iwish—”
I was abruptlyinterrupted by footsteps, hurrying onto the floor. “Jeff, have you seen—oh.”
I turned to face adifferent man, towing another little girl along with him. He looked to be a bityounger than who I had (rightly) guessed was Jeff, and was wearing a plain,black button-down, with sleeves rolled to the elbows, black pants, andsneakers.
I guessed he wasShelly’s dad.
“Making friends?” heasked, coming to stand behind the little girl and laying his hand over herlopsided ponytail.
Shelly turned andlooked up at him. “Daddy, Tessa’s pretty and her gramma has a kitty, too.”
“Wow, that’s great,” hereplied, holding back a chuckle as his eyes fell on me. His smile was kind andapologetic. “So sorry. She loves to chat with everybody. I haven’t figured outwhere the off switch is yet.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Ibrushed his apology away with a smile aimed at Shelly. “She’s adorable.”
“Thank you,” he saidgratefully and in a hurry. “Come on, Shell. Let’s leave Tessa here alone. Youcan help me tune the piano.”
Shelly pouted and Ifound myself wanting to say that I didn’t particularly care for her to leave mealone. I would’ve happily sat with her, swapping stories about our grandmothersand their cats. But I realized how weird that would’ve been. To tell thisstrange man that I wanted to spend some quality time with his daughter who I’donly just met. So, I kept my mouth shut as he turned and led her away, and myheart pinched when Shelly looked over her shoulder and waved.
With a forlorn sigh, Iturned back to the application, still waiting and stillnear-empty.I realized that Jeff continued to stand there, hands now in his pockets andhead tipped to the side, eyeing me. I smiled awkwardly in his direction andtried to thwart the intensity of his gaze by focusingall ofmy attention on filling out my dreaded work experience. But it was hopeless.
“Can I, uh, help youwith something?” I asked, lowering the pen once again.
Realizing he’d beenstaring,he pulled a fist to his mouth and cleared histhroat. “Sorry, uh … I was justwondering,do you haveany experience tending bar?”
Damn that Jeff. Hemust’ve been reading my mind. I released a weighted breath and leaned away fromthe table, shaking my head. “You got me. Unless you count a few amateur nightsin college, no,” I admitted. “You probably want someone with more experience,huh?”
His mouth, partiallyhidden by that killer mustache, curled into a friendly smile. “Preferably,” henodded and dropped his hand back into his pocket, “but, if you were interested, I might have something else you coulddo.”
Well,thatsounded like a creepy proposition,if I ever heard one, and I slowly began to stand from the chair. “Uh, well, Idon’t—”
Jeff let loose anembarrassed chuckle. “Wait,” he held up a hand, and I hovered in somethingloosely resembling a squat, “what I mean is, how do you feel aboutbabysitting?”
CHAPTER TWO
