He blew out a breath. Not so bad. “So have you decided about school next year?”
“I think I’m going to stick with the local one.”
“Is that because all your friends will be going there?”
She thought for a moment. “Partly. Me and Mum spent some time looking at different places. We even looked at boarding schools—there’s one where you can take your own pony.”
“You don’t have a pony.”
“I know. It’s tragic.”
He chuckled.
“But mum’s on her own now,” Jenny continued. “So I can’t leave her. And the day schools I could go to in London don’t seem any better than the local.”
“No ponies?”
She wrinkled her nose. “None. And the local school has a really good reputation, just as good as the ones you have to pay for, so I don’t see the point.”
God, she was bright. Had he been that sensible at ten? Somehow he doubted it. “How about riding lessons for your birthday?”
“Really? Can I?”
“Only if your mother agrees.” Was he going to get in trouble for this? Maybe he should have checked with Abby first. But at least now he’d have a legitimate excuse to seek her out.
Half an hour later, he drove the car down into the underground parking below the club and switched off the engine. “Come on, let’s go find that pizza.”
They took the stairs up to street level and out into the alley that ran along the side of the club. It took up the width of one block.
“This is my club,” he said, waving a hand at the building. “At least, this is one of them. The first one my dad opened, years ago.”
“It’s huge.” Jenny peered into one of the windows. “I can’t see anything. The glass is all dark.”
“There’s not much to see. Just a big room where people dance.”
As they came out onto the main street, where the club’s entrance was situated, the big black double doors opened, and Carly—the dancer they had taken on the day Abby had first come here—stepped out. She was dressed in sweats and a tank top, her bright red hair pulled into a ponytail. When she saw Logan, she stopped and gave a huge grin. She closed the space between them, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Just wanted to say thank you—Jerry took me on permanently last night.”
“You deserve it.”
“Well, thanks anyway for giving me a chance.” She cast Jenny a curious glance.
“This is my daughter,” Logan said. “Jenny, this is Carly. She works as a dancer at the club.”
Jenny was eying the rose tattoo on Carly’s shoulder. “Hello.”
“Nice to meet you, Jenny.”
“She’s really pretty,” Jenny said as Carly disappeared down the street. “Can I be a dancer when I grow up?”
Crap.
What the hell was the right answer to that? Not that he had anything against dancing as a career, but he wasn’t so sure Abby would agree. “Perhaps, but it’s really hard work,” was all he could come manage.
She stared after Carly almost wistfully. “Dad?”
There was that tone again. A tic started up in his cheek. “Hmm?”
“Can I have a tattoo?”
Again—what the hell was he supposed to say? “How about we talk about it when you’re older.”
“How much older?”
What was reasonable? Why hadn’t he discussed this stuff with Abby? Probably because they were too busy working through his fantasies to get down to serious topics. That needed to change, because this parenting thing was a minefield. Maybe there were books he could read or classes he could take.
“Eighteen?” He sounded tentative, but he had no clue what the right answer was.
“Brilliant.” Jenny grinned, and he breathed out in relief. “Mum said sixty-five.”
Crap.
Time to change the subject. “You know, I met your mum right here, in that club.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “It was her eighteenth birthday.”
“Was she your girlfriend? Is that how you had me?”
It occurred to him—as he wiped the sweat from his forehead—that he’d been getting off easy up to now. His daughter had obviously been saving up the difficult stuff. Explaining what a one-night stand was and how he’d had one with her mother was not an option. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’m starving. Should we go get that pizza?”
She gave him a look that made it clear she saw straight through his diversionary tactics, and he scrubbed a hand over his chin. “She wasn’t my girlfriend exactly, but we did like each other, and I’m sure we would have been if…” Christ, how much to tell her? What did she already know?
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you couldn’t be with us because they locked you up. Mum told me”
She had? What else had she said?
“And that it wasn’t your fault,” Jenny continued, as if hearing his unspoken question. “You were just looking after your brother.”