“Good,” she answers, not tearing her attention from her show.
Pulling up The Good Guys thread, and triple-checking it’s the proper chat, I finally reply to Cam and Ezra.
Me
You were never meant to see that text. Yes, it was consensual. And no, it won’t be happening again. Sorry for the delay in my reply. It’s been a busy day at work. Let’s never talk about this again, please.
There. Polite and to the point.
Claire remains in her room for a while, and when she finally emerges, she’s dressed in skintight high-waisted workout pants, a cropped sweatshirt that exposes a sliver of tanned midriff, and socks. Her hair is secured in what’s becoming an infamous topknot, and she’s carrying a water bottle.
Bea pulls her gaze away from the screen and asks, “Where ya going?”
“I’m gonna take a spin class at the gym.”
“What’s spin?”
“It’s like riding a bicycle, except the bicycle doesn’t go anywhere,” Claire replies, lacing up her sneakers by the door.
My daughter scrunches her nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“I suppose it is a little silly, but it’s good exercise. I’ll be back.” With that, she breezes out the door.
After sharing an afternoon snack of fruit and cheese with Bea, I toss in a load of laundry. I didn’t think to ask Claire if she wanted to throw in her clothes too. What’s the protocol forroomies-with-bennies, as she called it, washing clothes together?
I half-ass vacuum the cabin while Bea plays with some of the toys she received for her birthday. Then I wipe down the bathrooms with disinfecting wipes, careful not to disrupt Claire’s toiletries too much. As I step out of the room, I’m left feeling like I invaded her personal space, even though it’s my home, and even though my daughter also uses that bathroom.
When Bea gets bored of her toys and starts whining about watching another show, I suggest we head outside. She’s keen on the idea of riding her jeep, so she doesn’t put up a fight, and while she cruises, I supervise from the porch swing while also answering emails and reviewing my schedule for next week.
“Need a ride?” Bea calls out a little later.
I raise my head, assuming she’s speaking to me, only to find Claire walking up the driveway.
She laughs. “I don’t think I’ll fit, but thank you.”
Bea cruises toward her, and Claire has to jump out of the way at the last second to avoid being taken out at the shins.
“Watch where you’re going,” I shout, wincing.
“Oops.”
“That’s okay, Dolly.” Claire marches up the stairs.
“Sorry,” I apologize for my daughter. “How was spin?”
Her sweatshirt is tied around her waist now, her nipples prodding against her teal sports bra, the sight making my dick twitch.
“Hard but fun.”
I can think of some other things that are hard but fun.
“I’m going to shower, then did you wanna get that pizza? I missed lunch, so I’m starving,” she says.
Her cheeks and chest are flushed a pleasing shade of pink, her skin still damp from her workout. I force myself not to follow the trail of sweat disappearing into her sports bra.
“Bea and I will pick it up now,” I say, closing my laptop. “Do you mind putting this inside?”
She accepts the device with a grin, and when our fingers brush during the exchange, a jolt of electricity shoots through my veins.
