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“If I can’t play softball, I’ll need another after school activity for my resumé.”
“Say what?” She said resumé like the word resume, no accent, but still. The kid was eight. Where was she getting this crap?
“I want to go to college,” she said primly, as if I was just her clueless middle-aged father. Maybe I was clueless. I was batting about zero with the female contingent tonight. “I need to think ahead.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”
“It hurts when I have to climb. Can I sleep downstairs tonight? We can build a pillow fort and watch movies. Like there’s that new one The Borg. You know, the oozy swamp thing.” When I didn’t respond right away, she tacked on the always effective kill shot. “Please, Daddy?”
“It’s already late.”
“So? I don’t have school. And I’m hurting.” She sniffled a little, and my stomach twisted. Worst of all, I couldn’t entirely say she was exaggerating, and that made the pang even worse. “We haven’t done a movie night in forever.”
I couldn’t argue there. “Okay, one movie. Then you can sleep on the couch. Let me talk to Karen now, honey.”
My daughter passed the phone to Karen, and she let me know they were heading home. I promised to meet them at our house in a short while, then hung up to face Macy.
Who was still glaring at me.
“So, judging from that, you have a daughter.”
I nodded.
“Other children as well?”
“Just Danielle.”
“And Danielle’s mother? Let me guess. You’re on a break.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, for years, and that break began with our divorce papers. She lives on the other side of the country, which is the best thing for both of us.”
Macy frowned. “You’re divorced.”
Her need for me to repeat it said a lot more than she probably realized. My tone gentled. “Yes, for five plus years now. We separated when kiddo was small.”
“You don’t even have a legitimate nickname for your daughter?”
I scratched my scruffy jaw, hoping the extra time would bring some sorely lacking clarity. Women were basically a whole different species. “Excuse me?”
“Squirt, kiddo, honey. Nothing that implies actual thought. Jesus.” She shook her head and marched toward the rear exit. She skirted all the construction debris like a pro, her movements sharp and sexy as fuck.
“You’re just leaving like that?”
When she didn’t answer, I assumed that yes, she intended to split without even another parting shot. Then she whirled back and propped her hands on her hips. “Why would I stay? You’re leaving. I’ve checked on the job and—”
“And kissed the hell out of me, in case you forgot.”
Her lips pursed. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“I certainly did not.” I stalked toward her and fought every impulse that dictated I solve this by kissing her thoroughly enough that she would know no other woman even existed in my brain. But that wasn’t the way, even if we’d just worked out our frustrations in exactly that manner. “I remember every detail, as I will when I can’t sleep tonight.”
“Listening for your daughter’s cries in the night?”
“She’s eight, not eighteen months. She sprained her ankle tonight, by the way. Thanks for not asking.”
Macy’s face softened. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, other than some pain. Which she’ll probably call sick tomorrow and confuse the hell out of me. What happened to kids calling stuff cool like when we were younger?”
