Which meant he had sunstroke, and this was a hallucination.
Tony ground his fists against his eyes—but when he looked again, she was still there. She was real. Very real, and watching him as if waiting for him to say something.
He cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”
She smiled. The ironic little twist of her lips roused an answering twist in his gut, tight and hot. He shoved it down with zero remorse. Women like her were nothing but trouble. They used their looks to get what they wanted, then abandoned men after they’d used them up and sucked them dry. Heartless, every last one of them.
The woman faltered, looking at him strangely, before her smile returned. “I’m looking for Anthony Weis. Are you him, by any chance?”
Tony shrugged. She probably needed a plumber. She was a bit late. “Yeah, but I’m out of business. You’ll have to find someone else. I’m moving.”
He swung himself down the ramp to the asphalt and pushed past the woman without another glance. As he strode up the walk, Miranda looked at him with those wide, solemn eyes that made him ache. No one so young should have eyes so old.
“Hey, darling,” he murmured, and sat on the steps. Miranda smiled and rested her tiny hand on his knee. His heart lurched, and he swallowed hard. She still trusted him so much, even though he’d not only failed to keep his father’s business afloat, but failed to provide for her. He’d failed her, and it was his fault they were now forced to move into a cramped two-bedroom apartment in Dallas.
“You hot, Daddy?” she asked.
“Mmhm. Very.” He smiled and leaned closer. She tipped her adorable face up to his. “I wish we could find something to help us cool off.” He tilted his head, thinking. “Something cold, I think. Something…chocolaty. Maybe with sprinkles. If only I could think of the name…”
She raised a hand and grinned, practically bouncing. “Oh! I know! I know!”
He arched a brow. “Know what?”
“Ice cream, Daddy.” She giggled, covering her mouth. “It’s called ice cream.”
He slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Now, however did I forget that? I love ice cream more than anyone else.”
“No you don’t, Daddy. I do!” She squeezed his hand, her eyes wide and earnest. “We go?”
“You have to pay the Daddy tax, first.” He pointed to his cheek and waited. She laughed and planted a big, wet—very wet—kiss on his jaw. Tony smiled and took her hand. “Paid in full. Okay, let’s go.”
The excitement in Miranda’s eyes reminded Tony so much of her mother, before things had gone sour. He swallowed back on his bitterness, and the shame that came with it. Shame would inevitably lead to hatred, and he wouldn’t ruin Miranda’s happiness with his ugly mood.
It wasn’t her fault, anyway. Wasn’t her fault that her laughter reminded him how badly her mother had broken his heart. Jane was the primary reason he didn’t trust women. In his opinion, men and women were better off if they stuck to satisfying their mutual needs now and then, and left each other alone the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year. None of this bullshit about relationships.
None of this bullshit about love.
Never again.
Miranda was the only love he needed, and she looked at him right now, nearly squirming with eagerness.
“Now, Daddy?”
“Sure,” he said, and stood with her little hand curled in his. “Off we go.”
Miranda hopped to her feet. Patches of sweat darkened her dress, which stirred sluggishly in the subtle breeze. Tony picked up her wide-brimmed sun hat and plopped it onto her head. She giggled, tipped the hat up, and looked down the walk.
“Daddy, who is she? Is she coming, too?”
Tony jerked and tore his eyes away from his daughter. The woman was still there, standing on the sidewalk and watching them with that same wry smile. Why the hell was she even hanging around, let alone eavesdropping on a private conversation with his daughter?
He clenched his jaw and forced each word out clearly and slowly. “Look, lady, I told you I’m closed. I’m a little busy now, so I’d like you to leave.”
The woman ignored him, sat down on the porch step, and offered her hand to Miranda. “Hi there.”
Miranda looked between Tony and the woman, her eyes wide and confused. Tony drew a deep breath and clenched his fists. This was getting out of hand—and the moment she went near his daughter, she turned from a minor irritation into a potential threat. Who did she think she was?
She caught his eye. “You can yell at me if you want, but it won’t do any good. I’m not leaving. I’m here on a mission.”
Tony stared at the woman, raising a brow. A mission. Seriously? A— No. He didn’t want to know. He drew his daughter away from the woman’s outstretched hand and urged her up the steps. “Miranda, honey, go inside and find your baby dolls. Bring them out so we can put them in the truck.” The entire time, he watched the woman warily. She said nothing, only dropping her hand to her lap.
Miranda pouted. “But we can’t pack them, Daddy. They’ll get scared.”
“Of course not, pumpkin. I’d never want to scare them. You know that. Put them on the swing. In the sun.” Tony kept his voice mild for his daughter’s sake, but the moment Miranda scurried inside, he turned to the woman and bit off, “You need to leave. Now.”
If she didn’t, he’d call the cops. Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t play when it came to Miranda’s safety. He’d rather let the cops deal with the woman than tangle with her himself, and run the risk of hurting her.
“Call the cops if it makes you feel better.” She shrugged. “But I won’t leave. I’m here under the power of a higher authority, and you won’t get rid of me until I’m done.”
Tony frowned. He was fairly certain he hadn’t spoken out loud. Maybe that sunstroke was worse than he’d thought.
She chuckled. “You don’t have sunstroke. Before you ask—” She raised a hand. “Yes, I heard you think that. The grace of God does funny things. My freckles aren’t that dark, by the way.” Her smile faded and she stood, regarding him with a somber gaze. “I’m here to save your soul, Anthony Weis.”
Tony choked on an incredulous laugh. “This is the part where you strip, right? And sing some stupid little jingle? Who put you up to this?” Anger burned through his veins. “And in front of Miranda, you—”