I blew out a slow breath, imagining all the ways this could go sideways. “Can’t blame you, kid. I’d probably fake sick too.”
Her smile was bigger this time, and I caught a glimpse of an adorable gap where her front teeth would eventually grow in. My nephew Emmett lost his when he was almost eight, so I took that little nugget and ran with it.
“Especially because you’re, what, nine?”
She giggled. “Nope. I’m only seven, but I’m almost eight.”
“Yeah? When’s your birthday?”
“In ten months.”
I smothered my smile. “So close.”
“How old are you?” She shifted on the beam, and I fought the impulse to stick my hands out in case she fell, but apparently, only one of us was nervous about her perch, and it was not her.
“Twenty-five,” I whispered. “Super old.”
She giggled again. “You’re only old once you turn fifty.”
“Ahh. Very good to know.”
Her eyes darted to the side and then back to me. “Do you like to sing?”
My head tilted at the change of subject. “I’m not a very good singer, so no… I can’t say that I do.”
The line of her eyebrows lowered.
“Okay, I’ll come down, but only if you show me your trick first.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Bargaining, huh?”
“My aunt told me I should always stand up for what I want, so that’s what I’m doing.”
Well, her fricken aunt wasn’t here trying to get her down from the fricken metal beam, now was she? I kept my smile even, though. “Okay, but you’ve got to promise you’ll come down, right?” I held up two fingers. “Girl Scouts honor?”
She nodded vehemently.
“Okay.” I pointed at the beam. “Turn your one leg so you’re straddling it like you’re sitting on a horse, okay? Then hold on with both hands.”
I breathed a bit easier when she obeyed immediately.
“What’re you gonna do?” she asked.
“I’m going to hang on the bag,” I whispered. “With no hands.”
Her eyes widened. “No way.”
“Way.”
With a quick glance back by the bathroom, there was still no sign of her dad, so I shook my head and jumped, grabbing the chain along the top of the bag and pulling my body weight as high as I could go. Hoisted up like that, I tugged my legs up, wrapping them around the upper middle of the heavy bag, and crossed my feet at the ankles.
With a glance in her direction, I let go of the chains and let my upper body slowly fall back.
“Whoa,” she whispered.
My braid was swinging toward the ground when I lifted my upper body and did a couple of sit-ups from that hanging position. She clapped excitedly.
“How many more should I do?” I asked her.
“Twenty!”
“Oof. Okay. Then you’ll hop down to me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Count for me then, boss lady,” I told her.
“One, two, threeeeeee,” she stretched out. I groaned as I did number four, and she giggled.
“You should be a trainer here,” I told her. “I pull that slow counting crap in my classes too.”
We made it as far as seven when I noticed someone approach from the corner of my eye, a tall shadow blocking the overhead lights of the gym.
Aiden.
Today, he was wearing a white T-shirt, snug across his boulder-like chest. His arms were folded over that chest, and even though I was hanging upside down, I could see the tightness in his mouth as he surveyed our little scene.
The girl stopped her counting. “Hi, Daddy! Look at the lady’s cool trick!”
That was when my ankle lost its grip, and I fell off the bag, landing at my boss’s feet in a tangled, graceless heap.
ISABEL
Maybe, just maybe, I thought, if I pretend that didn’t happen, he’ll be gone when I open my eyes. My legs flopped to the ground, and I winced when I rolled to my side, eyes still pinched shut.
“Whoa,” the little girl’s voice said.
Aiden’s little girl’s voice. “You fell super hard, Miss Isabel.”
Fuuuuuck me, honestly.
“You okay?” he asked. His voice was close—low and rough—and it raised the hair on my arms.
Was I okay? Such an interesting question. Because no … I wasn’t.
I wanted to erase every freaking interaction I’d had with him, scrub it from my brain with bleach because somehow, they just kept getting worse.
But was I actually, physically fine? Uh-huh, sure, let’s go with that.
I let out a slow breath and took stock of my body, because if I’d hurt anything, hopping up was a terrible idea. “Yeah, I am.”
When I pried open my eyes, Aiden was crouched down, hands hanging in between his bent knees. His face was lined with concern, but he made no move to touch me, thank the Lord in heaven above.
If I was this much of a klutz when he breathed the same air as me, I’d probably spontaneously orgasm if we made skin-to-skin contact.
He nodded, rising slowly as I stood off the mats. Bracing his hands on his hips, his eyes turned toward his daughter, still swinging her legs up on that steel beam like she was at the freaking playground.
“Anya,” he said, all steady and calm, but I saw the tension in his jaw. “Time to get down.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.