Page 112 of Under Daddy's Spell

“Jordan knows her. He set up a tentative meeting tomorrow morning at ten. You can take it from there.”

“There are quite a few. I could get started tonight.”

That stung, but it wasn’t surprising. “I thought we could have dinner—”

“I made reservations for six o’clock.” She wasn’t sure how long Jordan had been standing there, but, from the coolness in his voice, he’d heard enough. “It will give you and Shelly a chance to catch up with Tessa. The earliest Mrs. Zion is available to meet with you is tomorrow at ten, at any rate.”

“That’s a shame,” her clueless father stated. “But I guess it can’t be helped.”

From the muscle jumping in his cheek, he clearly wasn’t pleased her father hadn’t picked up on his not-so-subtle hint. The frown Shelly aimed her husband’s way proclaimed she did.

“We need to get going,” Jordan said, as he took Tessa’s arm and steered her toward the door. “I’m in short-term parking.”

They had to cross a bridge to get to the lot. It was a short walk, made shorter by the pace Jordan set in his agitation. A gap formed between the two couples, not a chasm but enough for them to talk privately.

“Thanks for going to bat for me, Daddy,” Tessa said, having no trouble keeping up with him after almost a month of practice. “He has always hyperfixated on whatever project he’s working on. My mother had a knack for refocusing him, but I never had the patience to try, and Shelly obviously hasn’t figured out the code.”

He tilted his head down to look at her, still frowning. “For you, I won’t make a stink. They’re here for four days. No way would I let this shit slide if they lived in town.”

They were coming up on his Expedition—yep, he had a third awesome vehicle. He beeped the locks and helped her in, unnecessarily because, more awesome, this one had running boards. But one of the best things about her daddy was how he was always looking out for her, and she had no problem when he boosted her by the butt into this passenger seat as well.

***

TESSA TICKED OFF EACHitem on her mental checklist.

Tortilla chips and queso—check.

One of Jordan’s Ultras and a coaster—check.

Extra napkins—check.

Her phone, a blanket because the trauma of a New Orleans summer without A/C was behind her and fall was now in full swing, and her book—check, check, check.

She frowned as she surveyed it all. “It feels like I’m forgetting something, Rufus.”

Her shepherd’s tail thumped on the floor at the sound of his name.

She hit the heel of her hand on her forehead when it suddenly came to her. “Of course! Duh!”

She jogged to the kitchen, retrieved the new bone she’d bought for her best bud, and jogged back. Rufus’ tail thumped faster and louder when he saw what she brought with her.

With him chewing happily, she settled into the corner of the leather sectional in the den, which was so big it could sleep four of the most massively pumped-up guys on The Body Shop’s members’ list, and pulled the blanket over her legs. Then she looked at the eighty-inch flat screen on the wall across from her. The screen was black.

“Mercy’s sake,” she muttered as she started patting the cushions on either side of her then slid her hands in between them until she extricated the clicker. She hit the power button as her phone rang.

A glance at the caller ID had her smiling.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Are they gone?”

“They are. I stayed and watched the plane take off, to be sure.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You caught me,” she said with a giggle. “But I got a text from Shelly about thirty minutes ago that they made it home.”

“Baby. If I knew he’d become consumed with Lucy’s books and start the appraisal work this weekend, I’d have never suggested it.”

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