“Thought you said snacks were for later.”
She shot him a glare. “She won’t be able to concentrate on reading after that stunt. Might as well let her eat.”
He grinned. “Sure. Wonder if they have chips for me. All that dancing made me hungry.”
Tessa rolled her eyes and set the baby in her high chair, buckling her in. Anticipating food, Veronica kicked with excitement, babbling nonsense in a long stream.
Ford set the cup and Cheerios on the tray, then headed to the refrigerator. “Want wine?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
He poured a glass of chardonnay, snapped the tab off an Allagash White beer, and grabbed a bag of Sour Cream & Onion Lay’s. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, he began to munch on chips and sip his beer, his gaze on the baby. “Shouldn’t she be talking by now?”
Tessa tossed him a glare. “She just turned one. Chiara said she’s right on the edge. Says ‘Da-Da.’”
He threw up his hands. “Okay, I was just asking. Why are you so defensive all the time?”
“Why do you ask rude questions?”
“It wasn’t—I just don’t know about benchmarks and stuff.” He studied her through a squinted gaze. “Hey, can we cease fire for tonight? I won’t comment on your babysitting clothes or your tendency to jump down everyone’s throat if you don’t insult me every time I open my mouth.”
Tessa took a sip of her wine and regarded him icily. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
He snickered. “Really? That’s how you dress to crawl around the floor with a toddler—in leather pants? Plus, you’re wearing spiked heels. You can hurt her with those.”
Tessa glanced down at her sleek Spanx faux-leather leggings and gold-heeled Stuart Weitzman boots, seeing nothing wrong. “I can move around fine in this outfit. I’m wearing a T-shirt.”
“It’s got sparkles. Who do you think you’re gonna see? Derek Jeter?”
She blinked. “Who?”
Horror flashed on his face. “The hot Hall of Famer for the Yankees. Dear God, you know him, right? All women know him!”
She waved a hand in the air with dismissal. “Sure, he dated J.Lo.”
“That’s A-Rod!” His face got a bit red, and he muttered something under his breath, sipping more beer. “Didn’t you ever go on a date to a baseball game?”
“No. One idiot took me to a basketball game on a first date. That ended quick.”
“Why—did he not pay enough attention to you when the game started?” he joked.
“Exactly. A first date is to get to know someone. I don’t consider screaming at every play, drinking too much beer, and spilling popcorn because of a goal a good intro to a relationship.”
“A basket. Not a goal.”
“Right. Like it matters.”
Ford shuddered. Pleasure spiked. She always did love sparring with him even when he pissed her off. It was like drinking a bottle of jolt juice, trying to up each barb to perfection.
She pushed harder. “Seems you judge me just as harshly as you accuse me of.”
“Hard not to. You’re everything in a woman that terrifies a man.”
She practically snarled back. “What—successful? With financial freedom and confidence? Knowing what I want?”
“I was thinking more like judgmental, snobby, and an elitist.”
Oh, that one hurt enough to rip a gasp from her lips. “Are you kidding? Because I like designer clothes? I work my ass off for every dollar I earn and deserve to spend it the way I want. That’s messed up, dude.”
“Nah, didn’t mean it like that. You seem to think when a guy doesn’t look a certain way, he’s beneath you.”
Her laugh held no humor. “You have never met one man I dated.”
One brow shot up. “Do any stick around after the first or second date?”
Her smile was smug. “If I want them to. I’m discerning, and that has nothing to do with a guy’s job or appearance. It’s who he is on the inside.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Riiight.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Nope. You do makeovers for a living. You like a shiny surface but don’t want to admit it.”
“Now who’s judging?”
Ford jerked back, obviously surprised. A halfhearted grin curved his lips, which she couldn’t really see past his generous mustache. “Got me.”
Tessa shook her head and turned her back on him, scolding Dex lightly for eating all the dropped Cheerios Veronica happily threw to him. The well-behaved dog sat down and looked at her with sad puppy eyes. She patted his head, accepting his apology. “Look, let’s backtrack. I accept your proposal to cease fire. It’s obvious I don’t understand your world and you don’t understand mine. We’ll deal with each other for the next few hours, enjoy Veronica, and head our separate ways. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He drank his beer. She sipped her wine. And Veronica clapped as if she realized there would finally be some peace.
Chapter Four
Ford lounged on the floor with Ronnie settled in his lap. She was wriggly for a bit, but eventually Tessa lured her with a low, breathy voice, reading the story of a little girl on a magical hippo hunt in Katie and the Hippo Egg. Using expressive gestures and faces, she kept the baby’s attention.
And Ford’s.
Damn, why couldn’t she be nicer? Why did she have to be Ronnie’s godmother and Chiara’s best friend so they were always in each other’s orbit? And why did she affect him in such a way?
He was a laid-back guy. He flowed like a river. Not much bothered him, and he avoided conflict with women easily. Hell, his main flaw was becoming a friend instead of a hot hookup, but from the moment he’d locked gazes with this petite, stubborn, dynamic fireball, his only goal had been to poke and prod to see if he could get under her skin.
She was too . . . perfect. On the outside. Like a china doll, but if you peered underneath, she was more like Annabelle—the horror doll that haunts people. With her impeccable designer clothes, stilettos, and fierce glare, the woman didn’t walk into a room, she stormed. Toffee-colored corkscrew curls bounced madly around her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face with a wide mouth and gently curving chin. Her features were soft, but the moment she snapped you with those periwinkle blue eyes, eyebrows slashed together in her trademark frown, a guy knew she was trouble. She was opinionated, bossy, and thought she knew everything. He respected the hell out of her work ethic and what she’d built with her friends at Quench, but he wasn’t a fan of her role. Making over women just so they could look better in the mirror seemed like a shallow career, especially since she seemed to mock his love for sports.
Even now, her ridiculous boots were crossed at the ankles, and those tight pants molded to every curve. She had a slamming body, with generous breasts and hips, but dealing with her nonsparkling personality for more than an evening would be a hellish prison.
Still, he was curious. Always had been. He wondered what her real story was since Ryder and the girls never spoke about it. Tessa was private. People said she had a generous heart and was always trying to help others, but Ford hadn’t glimpsed that part of her, other than seeing her try to score a discount on another designer bag for her readers.