She grinned. “Since we were kids.”
“So you know all of his dirty secrets?” I teased. Her grin fell slightly in response, and it was not the reaction I had expected. She grabbed another dish towel and wrung it in her hands.
“I’ve known him just as long as I’ve known my husband, and still, I don’t know everything. He can be quite the mystery, but I’m not even sure he intends for it to be that way. Thatch is the kind of guy who’s open and honest but doesn’t exactly take it upon himself to open up, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I’m noticing that.” I mean, I hadn’t known about the tattoo parlor until today.
“But he’s a good guy.” She unclenched her hands, tossed the towel on the counter, and smiled as she looked out the window. “Underneath all of that charming swagger and big ego, he’s got an even bigger heart.”
My gaze followed hers back outside. I watched Thatch lift Mila up and throw her over his shoulder, running around the yard while all of her friends chased them, giggling and smiling as they ran. It didn’t take a genius to see Claire was right. My chest ached from the overwhelming cuteness of it all.
Claire turned off the faucet with a muttered, “Oops,” as though she’d forgotten to do it before. After a deep breath, she hitched a hip against the counter and faced me, eyes all-knowing. “He’s basically a big teddy bear when you get to know him.” She winked and put a kind hand to my arm. “Just go easy on him, okay? He hasn’t necessarily had the easy road when it comes to relationships.”
I shook my head, and my eyes made an attempt to bug out of my head. “Oh, we’re not in a relationship.”
“I know,” she said, smirking. “But I also know Thatch enough to know he’s fucking tenacious.”
I grinned at the fact it was the first f-bomb I’d heard Claire drop since we got to her house, but I guessed little ears would do that.
“Tenacious?” I questioned, oddly amused.
She nodded and raised her eyebrows. “Especially when there’s a hot chick with a fantastic rack involved.”
That made me laugh. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for helping me clean up. Everyone else is all about the eating, but when the dish soap comes out, they scatter like rats.”
“No problem.” What I didn’t tell her was that I probably would have been with the other rats had I not been trying to make some sort of quasi-positive first impression. “Thanks for letting me crash Mila’s party.”
“You brought a present,” she pointed out through a laugh. “I’d say you pretty much won my daughter over the second she saw the cat on your shirt and watched you pull a brand-new Barbie out of your purse…” She paused for a second, and then added, “Before I head back into the backyard, I have to know one thing.”
I tilted my head to the side. “What’s that?”
She nodded toward my chest. “They’re real, right?”
Fuck, I loved Claire already. She was sweet and honest yet had no qualms about saying whatever was on her mind. I was hoping this wouldn’t be the first and last time we hung out. This was a chick I could definitely get along with.
“Definitely real.”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed as she walked toward the back door, opening it and shouting toward her husband, “You owe me twenty bucks, Frankie!”
He just laughed, and Thatch shot him a questioning glance. Frankie held out both hands in front of his chest, and Thatch immediately knew, chuckling in response. “I told you, dude.”
“I want twenty bucks!” Mila yelled as she came barreling across the yard and through the door. She stopped once she reached the kitchen, hands on her little knees and lungs taking deep breaths. “Why does Daddy owe you monies?”
“Because he keeps forgetting that Mommy is always right,” Claire answered and smiled in my direction.
“Girls are always right, Mila,” I agreed. “Never forget that.”
She put her hand on her hip and eyed me with a serious face. “But that’s not what Patrick says.”
“Who’s Patrick, baby?” Claire asked, cupping a loving hand around Mila’s sweet cheek.
“He’s just some stupid boy in my class. He says boys are smarter than girls, and I’m the biggest dumb fathead of them all.”
Oh, poor little asshole Patrick. He’d be in for a rude awakening when he got older. I had the urge to give him a come-to-Jesus moment now, but for some reason, society frowned on that kind of interaction with children.
“Sometimes boys say mean things when they like a girl.” Claire sighed, visibly just as annoyed with a six-year-old boy as I was but trying to be diplomatic about it.
She shook her head. “Patrick doesn’t like me. He pulls on my pigtails and chases me on the playground.”
Claire and I exchanged a knowing look.
“You want to know a secret about boys, Mila?” I asked.
She nodded with enthusiasm.