The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

Twenty-Five

Ford

Iwas just finishing a set of curls when Everly came running into my home gym, shouting, “Bye, Daaaddy!”

Her hair, which was getting so long, bounced like the top of a mop, her glittery shoes squeaking across the rubber flooring.

“No running.”

She only slowed when she reached me. “Oopsie. Too late.” She raised her arms in the air.

I placed the weights down and lifted her up, holding her against my chest, and noticed Sydney standing in the doorway. Her hand was wrapped around the handle of Eve’s pink suitcase. “Looks like you have everything packed for Mimi and Papa’s house.”

“Yep.” She made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

I laughed. “Are you going to be a big girl and not kick Mimi in the face when you sleep with her and Papa tonight?”

She giggled. “Daddy, I don’t do it on ’urpose.”

I used my weaker arm to tickle her and roared into her neck, “You don’t do it on puuurpose.”

“Daddy, you sound like a cat, puuuring.”

This kid.

I cuddled her into me. “I’m going to miss you tonight.” I kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

She giggled, still feeling the tickles, and said, “More than all the stars in the sky.”

Every time she’d said that since the accident, it was more meaningful.

It had been sixteen weeks, and I would never know that girl had experienced a single second of pain.

But we talked about it. We kept the communication open. The last thing I wanted was there to be emotional triggers that had a lasting effect.

“Be good,” I told her. “Listen to your grandparents and don’t stay up too late.” I gave her another kiss and set her down. “And don’t run. There are too many things in here that you can trip on.”

“Okaaay, Daddy.” She joined Sydney in the doorway.

“Your mom will be here any second,” Sydney said. “I’m going to walk her out.”

Damn it, I was grateful my family had accepted the way Everly had come into my life, and although many conversations were had with my parents and brothers, nothing had changed between them and my daughter.

I watched her and Sydney disappear and picked up the weights, slowly working through another set.

Since the cast had come off my arm, I’d hired a trainer and physical therapist to come to my home several times a week, the two of them working together to ensure I made a full recovery. On the days they weren’t here, like today, I worked out without them.

I wanted my arm to be as strong as it had been before.

And in the short time since my cast had been taken off, I could already feel a huge difference.

I finished the set and pulled off my T-shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from my body. Once I was done, I tossed it on a bench and started some triceps extensions. I was only halfway through my count when Sydney came in.

She’d changed into a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra, not the jeans and tank top she’d been wearing only a few minutes before.

“Care if I join you?”

I smiled. “Please do.”

Even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off her fucking body.

That she would be the biggest distraction.

That I was certain I’d lose count during every set.

She grabbed the twenty-pound free weights from the rack, and while she watched herself in the mirror, she started doing shoulder presses.

Since she’d moved into the apartment above the garage, she used the gym almost every day. Her body had been fucking incredible before. Toned, curvy—everything I wanted in a woman.

But with her constant workouts, her arms were becoming more sculpted, her legs a little more muscular. She still had that soft, gentle frame, but now with a bit more punch.

I grabbed the thirty-pound free weights and went over to the decline bench.

“Need a spotter?” she asked.

I knew I could handle it.

These weights were light compared to what I used to lift before the accident.

I just wanted her close.

“If you don’t mind,” I replied.

She moved behind me, standing close to my head. “How many are you doing?”

“Eighteen reps, three sets.”

“You’ve got this.”

I chuckled. “All right, Coach Summers.”

As I pushed the weights up from my chest, Sydney’s hands hovered next to mine. They never touched me; they never grabbed for the weights. They just stayed there in case I needed her.

And although I was focused on my form, I couldn’t ignore the view.

From this angle, her pussy wasn’t far from my face. With her pants so tight, they were outlining one of my favorite parts of her, showing the dips of her lips, the gap between her thighs.

Teasing me.