Page 37 of Texas Kissing

She did the Wall Street Journal crossword every Friday. At eighty-three and at least as sharp as I was.

When we were sitting drinking tea and I was trying to figure out ten down, she said, “Who is he?”

“Maybe I just came to visit, like other granddaughters. I could brush your hair for you. Do you want me to brush your hair?”

“Tessa, you touch this ‘do and you won’t sit down for a week. It’s been sixty-two days since you visited and you average eighty-eight. You came here because you want advice and that means it must be a man because it can’t be your job or your friends or your house because you won’t tell me diddly squat about any of those.”

I always suspected I inherited a lot of things from my grandmother. It was one reason we got on so well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s better that you don’t know this stuff.” I didn’t even dare to tell her which state I was living in. It’d make it easier for her to play dumb if anyone came looking for me. She knew I’d fled NewYork, but nothing else about my life.

She shook her head. “As long as you’re happy and you’re well away from that prick—pardon my French—Erico.” She sighed. “Of all the people who could step in and raise you. Your parents would have been horrified. Your father was a goddamn hippy. Heabhorredviolence. Animals, plants...that was always his thing.”

I’d never been able to relate to that, before. I’d grown up a city girl, under Uncle Erico’s wing. Since the horse riding with Bull, though, the great outdoors seemed just a little less scary.

“So,” said my grandmother. “It’s a man. Unless it’s a woman?”

“Grandma!”

“It’s all fine, Tessa.” She put her hand on mine. “When I studied in San Francisco,Ihad a few experiences with—“

I put my hands over my ears. “Too much information!”

“So shut me up. Tell me about your man.”

I met her gaze...then dropped my eyes. Thiswaswhat I’d come here for. “He’s...good,” I said. “I mean, I think he’sa good man,you know? He tries really hard not to be, when everyone’s looking at him. He’s got this bad boy thing going on. But when he’s with me...” I sighed and shook my head. “He’s an asshole too, though. He thinks he’s God’s gift.”

“Is he?” she asked sharply.

I bit my lip. And nodded.

“Sounds like a keeper.”

“But he’s an asshole!”

“The good ones usually are. Your grandpa was kind of an asshole, God rest his soul. So what’s theproblem?”

“We had a fight. About what I do for a living.”

She frowned at me. “Are you stripping?”

“No!”I said, horrified.

“Because there’s nothing wrong with that.Idid it. That’s how I met your grandpa, actually.”

“No! God, look at me! Do I look like a stripper?”

“There’s nothing wrong with curves, Tessa.Heobviously likes them.”

“I’m not stripping.”

“Hooking?”

“No!Just...anyway, he doesn’t approve and we had a fight about it. And now I don’t know how to apologize.”

“Go and visit him. Surprise him. Don’t let him tell you what to do with your life, but give him a chance to explain. You don’t want to lose this one.”

“He’s an asshole! How can you be so sure he’s right for me?”

“Because you’ve called him an asshole three times since you’ve been here. You’re never that down onanyone...unless you really, really like them.”