Her chin stuck out. “I’m not getting down for you.” She pointed at me. “I’m getting down because of her trick.”
“Fine,” Aiden said evenly.
“Can I jump off the top?”
“Absolutely not.”
She sighed dramatically, but reached her arms out. He moved underneath the beam and as I watched those arms extend toward her, I felt this dangerous swelling in my heart. Something I didn’t want to touch or poke at, but she hopped off the beam with such ease, such trust, that I almost had to look away.
Before he set her down, Aiden hugged Anya to his chest, her skinny arms wrapped around his neck, and I saw him release a quiet breath of relief.
Instead of watching the scene in front of me, I moved my gaze to the floor and smoothed a hand over my now-wrecked braid—a fitting symbol for my bruised pride.
“Sure you’re okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“She’s not a good singer,” Anya chimed in. “She told me that.”
Aiden closed his eyes, while I … I tried not to stare awkwardly at his daughter because honestly, could this get worse?
“Anya,” he chided.
“I asked her.” She fiddled with the collar of Aiden’s shirt. “But I didn’t ask anything else.”
He gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.” Aiden let out another breath. He glanced around the gym. “There’s a class at six, right?”
Again, I nodded, because this was the signature move in the Isabel Ward library of reactions to this particular man.
“You teaching?”
Don’t nod, don’t nod. My tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth. “Not usually, but I’m covering for Kelly.”
Anya’s eyes widened. “Do you show people how to punch like my dad?”
Aiden’s mouth softened, but still … it wasn’t quite a smile.
Maybe this little girl with her strange questions and horrible love of climbing could help me ease my way into ‘normal Isabel’ around him.
I tilted my head. “Show me your strongest fist,” I told her.
She curled up her little fingers so tightly that the skin over her knuckles went white.
“Very good.” I showed her mine, then tapped my pointer and middle finger knuckles. “Always aim to hit right here, okay? And don’t tuck your thumb inside your other fingers.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that. You’ll break your finger.”
I set my hands on my hips. “Maybe I should have you teach class.”
She giggled, glancing up at her dad with an expression so adoring, I could feel every ounce of my body melt like a stick of butter.
“Okay, gingersnap, you can play on your iPad while I get a little work done,” he said, and oh holy hell, he called her gingersnap. His eyes came back to rest on me, and I prayed to all the deities in all the religions in all the world that he couldn’t see what that did to me.
Honestly, it was like he was trying to be the most attractive man alive. And the fact that he didn’t realize he was made it even more attractive, which was an entirely separate issue. She motioned him down to her own height, and whispered something in his ear. If his face had been angled in my direction, I might have seen his lips curve in a smile, but instead, I simply saw the edge of his cheek move. But he nodded to whatever she said.
Anya gave me a shy smile. “You’re really pretty, Miss Isabel. I think you look like Wonder Woman.”
Instead of laughing her off, or dismissing it because Aiden was watching, I held my arms up in an X over my chest, and winked. When her face transformed into a wide smile, for the first time, I felt okay about an interaction with my new boss. Sort of.
Each embarrassing moment could get tucked away, in the corner of the box, held in place by each time I managed to take baby steps into something normal with him. I didn’t want to fawn over him, I didn’t want to study each nuance of each moment, because it felt wretched.
Anya ran off to his office, and to my surprise, Aiden didn’t follow.
“I owe you, Ward,” he said.
I blinked. “For what?”
Aiden jerked his chin toward the top of the steel beam.
My cheeks flushed hot. Honestly, with the flushing and the falling and the nodding. “No, it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes,” he said evenly, “I do.”
There was nothing for me to say, because 1- I was afraid I’d keep arguing because no, he didn’t owe me anything for getting the small child off the very high beam, and 2- it seemed safer not to initiate a conversation with him.
Problematic, that.
“Anya,” he said, lifting his chin toward where his daughter had disappeared, “she’s done that her whole life.” At the lift in my eyebrows, he clarified. “The climbing. Doesn’t give me a heart attack like it used to, but every once in a while she goes a little too far.”
The way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter had all sorts of melty, gooey things happening in my body. At first, all I could do was nod. But when I said nothing in response, I felt his curious regard.
Promise me you’ll try, I heard Amy say in my head. At the time, she’d had no clue what she was asking of me, but I’d given her my word all the same.
Before I could form words though, Aiden spoke again.
“You don’t like that I’m here, do you?”
My eyes zipped to his. “What?”
Aiden’s gaze was steady, searching. He didn’t repeat the question. Not to be rude or intimidating, but because we both knew that I’d understood him perfectly.
“I,” my voice faltered, and I shook my head.
Try, Isabel. “Change is hard for me,” I forced out. Pushing aside all butterflies, all off-kilter feelings with a sweep of my hand, I dug past the embarrassment and found a kernel of truth. “I still don’t know what your presence here means,” I told him.
Handing him that piece of truth, even if I had no clue exactly what it meant, was like tugging out a part of my body. But his reaction … I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make it just a little less painful.
The way he watched me talk without ever rushing or pushing me helped loosen something tight and uncomfortable behind my ribs.
Aiden tucked his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans. “How about this,” he said slowly. “I promise I won’t make any big changes without discussing it with you first. New name aside,” he added.
My heart hammered. He wasn’t required to do that. And his approach—the calm, the steady—wasn’t something I expected.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told him. “This is your place, not mine.”
A few people walked in—lawyers from a local firm—and effusively loud greetings came my way as they entered. I waved.
“You sure about that?” he asked dryly.
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.