“But you’re great at it,” I continue. I might not have seen her teach, but I’ve seen her with Molly and there’s no denying the way my little girl looks at her like she hung the moon.
“O-kay.” Tate looks at me like she’s puzzled. “Thanks, I guess.”
I pick up my whiskey and recline in my seat, studying her. “Who’s Brandon?”
The way her chest deflates, and her eyes dim confirms my suspicion.
“Ah, the loser ex,” I say, bringing my glass to my lips and taking a sip.
Tate’s eyes fix on my mouth as I lower the glass, letting it dangle between my fingers as I rest my arm on the side of the seat.
“What did he do?”
She purses her lips, considering my question. I can see the hesitation in her eyes. She doesn’t like me. And after my accusations, she probably doesn’t trust me, either. But the fact she didn’t insist on Cliff taking her home tonight once she realized this evening wasn’t being spent with Molly was a sign that a small part of her is intrigued by me. She might think accepting my invitation tonight was a way to get to know more about the man whom she’s employed by. But this evening is as much for me as it is for her. I need to know more about the woman I’m allowing around my daughter. Not the things a background check can tell me. The things she won’t put on a form.
I need to know what makes Tate Miller tick. What she loves, craves. What she’s scared of. I need to know everything that my daughter will be exposed to whilst in her company.
“He…” She takes a sip of her drink like she needs courage. “He was fucking another woman, and I walked in on them as he was finishing. Loudly, I might add. He was more enthusiastic than he ever was with me.”
I narrow my eyes and study her. “That bothers you more than the cheating?”
“No. I don’t care. I mean, why would I? That’s a given with cheats, right? That they make more effort for the newperson.”
The fire in her eyes is muted by an undercurrent of uncertainty.
“I wasn’t referring to his efforts. I meant, you’re more bothered by the fact he was clearly enjoying having sex with this other woman more than he enjoyed having sex with you,” I state matter of factly.
“What?” She gapes at me like I’m the rudest man she’s ever laid eyes on.
“Tate,” I say, taking my time to place my glass on the table and lean my forearms over my spread thighs until I’m staring straight into her eyes, ready to level with her. “How many guys left their numbers for you at work this week?”
Her nose wrinkles. “That’s not import?—”
“How many?”
She shakes her head, looking confused. “I don’t know. Maybe twelve?”
“Twelve,” I repeat slowly, the number making me clench my jaw momentarily. “And do you know how many of those twelve were imagining how you looked underneath that pink uniform you wear? How many were wondering if your nipples would be more of a pink or a brown? How many were thinking about how they’d feel against the tip of their tongue as they tasted them?” I allow my eyes to drop to the heaving swell of her cleavage as her breaths grow ragged at my words.
“Do you know how many of them were fantasizing about how loud they’d fuckinggroanlike they’d visited heaven and come back to earth again if you ever gave them the opportunity to fuck you?”
“W-what?” She laughs, stopping abruptly and scanning my serious face.
I nod slowly, driving my point home.
“All of them,” I say. “Every single fucking one.”
18
TATE
“You didn’t needto walk me to my door,” I protest as I climb the stairs to my building.
“What kind of man doesn’t escort a woman to her door?” Sullivan clips, sounding annoyed that I would suggest otherwise.
I glance at him over my shoulder, and he arches a dark brow at me. Cliff’s waiting in the car, but he’s turned the engine off like he expects to be waiting a while.
“Loser exes,” I offer with a twist of a smile.
