Neena looks from me to Clara. “This feels . . . good.” She grins. “Like a family.”
Standing, I hug her and reach one arm out for Clara, who joins us. “We are a family, kid.” I kiss the top of Clara’s head as it rests on my chest. Then Neena’s. These two. They’re my world. I never imagined I could find such peace in this type of life. I never imagined feeling like a family would satisfy me. But it does. It’s everything. They are everything. And that’s what I tell them when I whisper, “Everything that matters is right here in my arms.”
“I heard the Chinese feast night last week had an interesting turn of events,” Ashley mentions casually as Mills clips my mic on. I narrow my eyes. She’s talking about the fight between Clara and me.
“Who told you that?” I ask, unable to hide the annoyance in my tone. We may be here sharing our past with her, but that doesn’t make her privy to every detail of our lives.
Without batting a lash, she replies, “I have my sources.”
“What sources?” I question suspiciously. “You’re fifteen.”
“Seventeen,” she corrects me.
Mills clears his throat loudly, turning away from me. “He’s all set.”
I twist my mouth in thought. Did Neena tell Mills about our fight that night? Are they talking on the phone? I decide to wait until Ashley is done with me before I try and figure out what’s going on. A high schooler has no business messing with my daughter.
“Clara told us about the race.”
I scratch at my stubble, wondering if my expression shows my shock. “She did?”
Ashley tilts her head, watching me carefully. “She did.”
“Where’d . . . she leave off?”
A small smile breezes across her lips. “The part where you got jealous when she flirted with the guys.”
A husky laugh escapes me. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Did it surprise you?”
“What? That I got jealous?”
“No,” she laughs. “Men are idiots.” From behind her, Zane raises his head and rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing surprising about that,” she continues. “Did it surprise you she could flirt so well?”
“Maybe,” I admit, leaning back in my chair.
“Why?”
“Because I’d never seen her do it.”
“Flirt?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “With anyone. Not with the guys that worked for us. Or any of the male clients that came in.”
“Not with you,” she adds, her tone speculative. Nosy little brat. “Did it surprise you she never flirted with you?”
I let out something between a laugh and a snort. I know what she’s implying, but I play dumb anyway. “What do you mean?”
Ashley shoots me a look that says, you know exactly what I mean. “Because you were you. Paul James. Epic. You’re an attractive man,” she goes on and Zane narrows his gaze at the back of her head. Interesting. “Women, on the norm, flocked to you. Did it surprise you Clara didn’t?”
I stare at her blankly. Oh.
“Come on, Paul,” she grumbles. “Don’t be coy. You were a hotshot, an adventurer with good looks. Women loved you. They probably threw themselves at you.” Does that mean I’m lame and look like shit now? I ponder it for all of two seconds. Then holding one finger up as if to emphasize her point, she adds, “Except for Clara.”
I grin with insult. “You make me sound pretty damn vain, Ashley.”
“Because I’m describing you accurately?”
Jesus. This kid shows no mercy.
Turning my head, I scratch my stubble again, buying myself some time. If I’m being honest, it did surprise me. Even though my initial thoughts were that Clara was just a stiff and incapable of flirting, but after I challenged her at the race, I knew differently. She could flirt. She could show a man she was interested. But she hadn’t dropped me any signals.
Finally, I decide, fuck it, I’ll be honest. “It surprised me,” I admit. “But I think that kind of made her more attractive to me.” And it did. Because once I saw her draw every man’s attention in that group by simply rubbing a cold can of beer over her chest and neck, I never wanted her to flirt with anyone ever again.
Except me.
Ashley smiles wide and jots something down in her notebook. “Why the smile?” I ask.
“I just love this story.” She chuckles. “Okay, let’s move on. After the race, how were things? Not just with you and Clara, but in the office, too. Was the atmosphere still volatile?”
That’s an understatement, I think to myself.
Two days later, I’d strolled into the office for my afternoon jumps. While I’d initially hated Clara and fought her on the changes she was trying to implement, I had to admit, life was pretty good for me. Marcus handled all the financials while Clara handled scheduling and advertising. That meant all I had to do was the only thing I wanted to do. Jump.
When I walked in, Bowman was heading out, giving me a wide-eyed look in warning as he passed by.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s like World War III in there, man. I swear this is like an everyday occurrence now.”