Daddy in Disguise (Crescent Cove 7)

But we couldn’t, because my daughter needed me. Besides that, I was now the guy who’d lied about having a kid. That was the slot Macy would slide me into. I just couldn’t worry about it right now.

I had bigger priorities at the moment.

Half-expecting Macy to bolt—though this actually being her place helped my cause—I lifted my phone from where I’d pressed it against my shoulder. “Go ahead, Karen, sorry.”

Karen spoke in a frantic rush. She told me about taking Dani to the ER and how she’d called me so many times, as the flurry of text notifications that had scrolled across my screen testified to.

Someday I’d stop feeling guilty. Maybe.

“How is she doing now?” As I asked the question, I was already gathering tools.

I didn’t have to do a ton of cleaning up since this was an ongoing work site, but I didn’t leave my equipment just laying around. Crescent Cove was exceedingly safe, but there was no need to tempt thieves who wanted to make a quick buck. Not to mention that this wasn’t my only job at the moment, although it was the most important.

And not simply because I’d just kissed the proprietress.

Fucking finally.

Hope you enjoyed it. You know it won’t be happening again.

It probably shouldn’t have happened, period. I wasn’t stupid enough to mix business with pleasure.

Except I had. Again. As if I didn’t remember how well that had worked out with Jessica.

There was a slew of noises on the other end of the phone, and I could tell Karen was talking to someone, likely my daughter.

“Karen? Let me talk to Dani, please.”

Behind me, the heavy thud of Macy’s footsteps told me she was either pacing or assembling weapons to use against me. Both ideas were valid. I kept picking up my tools, the leash I had on my impatience shortening by the minute.

“Karen? I need to talk to my daughter.”

Some part of me got a sick thrill out of saying that, despite how I knew it would goad Macy. I shouldn’t be driving the nail home any deeper, but Christ, it pissed me off that it had to be such a thing between us. I hadn’t lied, because I was not usually actively thinking about Dani during the limited time I spent with Macy. Usually, our few moments together were too full of barbs and jabs for me to ruminate on what I was “keeping” from her.

Even if I really fucking hadn’t been holding back anything.

It just hadn’t come up. My daughter spent a good chunk of the summer with her mother, and I worked a lot. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, no matter how Macy would likely spin it.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, squirt, what happened?”

“I was riding my bike, and I hit a groove in the sidewalk. I went flying over the handlebars. Toby said it was so sick, but it hurt real bad.”

I exhaled. I had some choice words for Toby Brentwood. He was just a kid, so of course he would say something shitty like that, but I didn’t need him influencing Dani. Thank God she had a good head on her shoulders.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better. They wrapped it up and gave me the good drugs. I have a crutch!”

“Good drugs? Where are you hearing this stuff?” I shook my head as I closed the top on my toolbox. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. You shouldn’t be excited to have a crutch. Didn’t you say you wanted to play in Little League this year?”

“I still can, can’t I? It’s just a stupid sprain. I didn’t even have to have the crutch, but it was so sick.”

I hefted my toolbox and set it on the stool in front of the still in-progress bar. Now I’d never work on that intricate bat carving without thinking about Macy dragging my mouth down to hers. I flicked my tongue over the corner of my lips just to catch a hint of the sweet and spicy flavor she’d left behind. Like cinnamon and apples. Fire and ice. Macy in a nutshell.

First and probably last time I’d ever get to enjoy such treatment from her.

“Little League tryouts are next week, so we’ll see how it goes.” I highly doubted she’d be ready to run around a softball field a week after a sprain, but I’d seen stranger things in my nearly thirty-five years.