“Does it matter?” Ross asked, playing for time.
Tenner met his eyes, and Ross thought a little wistfully about how he’d been waiting for that. Big brown eyes…. When they weren’t narrowed in concentration or irritation, they were really damned pretty.
“I don’t know, Ross,” Tenner said evenly. “Why are you here?”
Well, shit. “Because Friday night was totally awesome,” Ross said. “But it wasn’t perfect, and I’d like to know you better.”
Tenner went back to his salad again, dumping feta crumbles in before sealing the container again. “Beans or no beans?”
“No beans,” Ross said automatically. “They give me gas.”
Tenner rolled his eyes. “Me too. Maybe we should have beans for sure.”
“No, please.” Ross took the salad bowl off the cutting board and gave Tenner the package of hot dogs sitting in front of him. “No beans.”
Tenner took the hot dogs and checked the water again. Boiling. “Okay, here’s the big question. Blue box mac and cheese or my homemade mac and cheese?”
“Which one does Piper like best?” Ross asked carefully.
“She says it’s mine, but I think that’s because I let her wear jeans and get dirty in the backyard.”
“I like that reason. She sounds like a bright and gifted child, and I will side with her,” Ross said gravely.
“Good answer.” Tenner’s lips—mostly lean but with a little tender pout on the bottom—twisted. “Unlike the one you gave me for how long you’re here.”
“Two months,” Ross said, conceding. “I’m raising enough money to be gone another two months, and then I’ve promised to come back again and make sure the programs I start up are being run right.”
“And after that?” Tenner asked mildly.
“After that, we’ll see.” Ross shrugged. “The Amazon is going to need years and years of restoration, and fundraising is important too.”
“Have you worked in a lot of places?” Tenner was moving now, reaching into a pantry to pull out a bag of whole-grain egg noodles. As Ross spoke, he came back to the stove to dump them into the boiling water.
“I’ve moved around ever since I got out of college,” Ross told him cheerfully. “It’s been great—helped me see the world and learn more about the ecosystem. And it’s like every new place I go, the more in demand I am. I mean, when I finally decide to settle down, I’ll be able to pick and choose my jobs.”
Tenner snorted.
“What?”
“Damn, son. Must be great not to ever get knocked down.”
Wow. Yeah. That had sounded pretty conceited, hadn’t it? “That’s not true,” he said. “I’ve had my share of rejection. This Amazon thing? The first time I ran it by a government agency, I was given a giant folder talking about why climate change was a myth.”
Tenner groaned. “Oh, for God’s sake—”
“Right? I had to approach three different agencies before I found one that was actually on my side, and more importantly, had the funds to help. I got knocked down plenty. I just… you know. Found a way.”
“Wow.” Tenner gave the noodles a couple of swipes with a wooden spoon to break up any clumps before rinsing off his chef’s knife and moving on to the hot dogs.
“Wow what? What is that sound?” For a moment, Ross was uncertain, and he hated that. He wasn’t always on top, and had learned to pick himself up plenty after setbacks, but he usually knew what he was dealing with. It was disconcerting that he couldn’t read this man.
Tenner shook his head and shrugged. “Just… that’s a lot of optimism.” He gave Ross a rather broken smile. “That’s really admirable, that’s all.”
And now Ross’s neck was on fire. He took a hasty sip of his beer. “Thank you. That’s, uh, nice of you to say. But what… what makes you say that?”
“No reason.”
Oh, there was most obviously a reason—something had obviously killed Tenner Gibson’s optimism dead.
“Could you get the bag of shredded cheddar out of the refrigerator? And that strainer from the top of the fridge? It’s about time to get this show on the road.”
TENNER KEPT him busy for the next few minutes, setting the table and dishing up food. He called Piper to have her wash her hands, and she bobbed in a few minutes later, looking tired but content.
Dinner was a surprisingly fun affair. Piper chattered happily, and they all had a contest to see who had the most hot dog pieces in their mac and cheese. Ross dared her to eat some salad, and she dared him to eat some applesauce, and Ross got to watch from under his eyelashes as Tenner laughed without inhibition.
The difference between Tenner in front of his daughter, and Tenner on a baseball field or in Ross’s arms was like the difference between a raging tiger and a newborn kitten.
Tenner in front of Piper laughed a lot.
Tenner on the softball field would take your head off as soon as smile.
Ross couldn’t decide which guy he liked most—the guy on the softball field had promised that sexual ferocity they’d shared in that dark little corner. But this guy, laughing at his daughter, playing games with her food, talking about all the desserts they could eat together—this guy was all of the good dads Ross had ever known. His father, his grandfather, his sister’s husband. Tenner was like part of the Good Dad Task Force, out to make the world a better place.
Ross washed dishes while Tenner and Piper cut up and mashed strawberries, adding a little bit of sugar for the perfect ice cream topping. When dessert was done, Piper wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, then sat back against her chair.
“Bath time?” she asked.
“Bath time,” Tenner confirmed, using his own napkin to pat where she missed a spot. “I’ll be up in a minute to help you wash your hair.”
She beamed at him. “You’ll braid it nice and tight tomorrow, right? Because when you braid it, it stays for two days and Mom doesn’t have to do it on Tuesday.”
Right now, it was back in a ponytail. Ross wondered at how long it must take, Piper sitting between Tenner’s thighs, while he carefully wove the fine strands of dark hair into a perfect french braid.
“I always do,” Tenner promised. “Now go get clean and not stinky at all.”
She laughed and ran up the stairs, leaving Ross charmed, and, face it, just a bit gooey.
“God, she’s fun,” Ross said into the silence.
“She’s perfect.” Tenner shook himself then, like maybe he’d shown his soft center with that sentence and not with the entire last hour, where he’d been a charming father and everything that was right with the world. “I understand she’ll be a teenager tomorrow and there will be much hatred and rolling of the eyes.”
Ross chuckled. “Not if you stay in contact,” he said soberly. “I mean, there will be mood swings and some boundary pushing. I won’t lie. But most of the time, if you’re kind and generous and embrace the person they’re becoming, you can get through the rough spots.”
Tenner’s eyebrows went up. “Oh my God. Did you read a manual?”