She jumped about three feet off the chair. “Dad.”
“What on God’s green earth are you doing?” he asked, gesturing to the screen. Though he already understood what she was up to.
“Nothing.” She hastily pushed the laptop closed.
He reached around her and lifted the screen. “You’re still off to find me a date? Is that it?”
“Dad. Yes. You need this.” She was ten years old. Only ten. And yet, she was slick as bloody hell with the computers and such. And as manipulative as her great-grandmother on his father’s side, with no care for consequences.
“Annie.” He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to stare at his face on her screen. “Delete it,” he said. “Now.”
She frowned at him. “Uh, this is how you get a girlfriend when you never go anywhere.”
He didn’t want a girlfriend. He’d had loads of them over the years and it never quite stuck.
“We’ve been over this,” he said, frustrated that his daughter navigated the bloody Internet better than he did.
“You are not to find me any dates?” he asked.
She didn’t react.
“You heard me?” he asked again.
She tossed her hands up in the air. “It’s for your own good.”
Fantastic, now she was throwing his own words back at him.
Annie hadn’t had a proper mum figure, since her mum had sent her off with babysitters and such. Now that they’d settled into something of a routine, and she got comfortable, well, she got on Ethan’s case to meet someone. She wanted him to find a missus so she could have a mum.
When he refused to take the bait, she started searching for him. He’d taken away her laptop and mobile, and she’d only recently earned them back through chores and grades and all the things he figured she needed to do.
“Delete it.” He pointed to the laptop, and they were down to twenty minutes to get out the door, get her to school, and get him to his meeting at the restaurant.
He watched carefully while she removed the posting, to be certain it was well and truly gone. “Are there any others?”
“Websites like this?” she asked, innocent as the day she was born.
He nodded, hands on his hips, still holding the damn kitchen towel between his fingers. “These matching-people-together sites, yeah.”
“No.” She blinked up at him. “But, c’mon, Dad. You know this is what we need.”
“You’ve lost the Internet again, love.” He lifted her laptop and tucked it under his arm.
“Daaaaad,” she whined. “How long?”
He didn’t answer because he had no bloody idea. “The mobile, too.”
“Dad. No.” She crossed her arms, the phone tucked under her armpit as though that would keep it safe from dear old dad. “For real?”
He made a gimme gesture. “You go to school and come straight home. No dallying at the bus stop.”
“I’m grounded?” She scowled at him and if looks could kill, he’d be a puddle of goo stuck in the carpet.
“I prefer to call it helping around the house.” He dug in. “Now get your socks on so we can go.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because if you don’t wear socks, you’ll get a blister.”
