body and did a couple of sit-ups from that hanging position. She clapped excitedly.
“How many more should I do?” I asked her.
“Twenty!”
“Oof. Okay. Then you’ll hop down to me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Count for me then, boss lady,” I told her.
“One, two, threeeeeee,” she stretched out. I groaned as I did number four, and she giggled.
“You should be a trainer here,” I told her. “I pull that slow counting crap in my classes too.”
We made it as far as seven when I noticed someone approach from the corner of my eye, a tall shadow blocking the overhead lights of the gym.
Aiden.
Today, he was wearing a white T-shirt, snug across his boulder-like chest. His arms were folded over that chest, and even though I was hanging upside down, I could see the tightness in his mouth as he surveyed our little scene.
The girl stopped her counting. “Hi, Daddy! Look at the lady’s cool trick!”
That was when my ankle lost its grip, and I fell off the bag, landing at my boss’s feet in a tangled, graceless heap.
Chapter Five
Isabel
Maybe, just maybe, I thought, if I pretend that didn’t happen, he’ll be gone when I open my eyes. My legs flopped to the ground, and I winced when I rolled to my side, eyes still pinched shut.
“Whoa,” the little girl’s voice said. Aiden’s little girl’s voice. “You fell super hard, Miss Isabel.”
Fuuuuuck me, honestly.
“You okay?” he asked. His voice was close—low and rough—and it raised the hair on my arms.
Was I okay? Such an interesting question. Because no … I wasn’t.
I wanted to erase every freaking interaction I’d had with him, scrub it from my brain with bleach because somehow, they just kept getting worse.
But was I actually, physically fine? Uh-huh, sure, let’s go with that.
I let out a slow breath and took stock of my body, because if I’d hurt anything, hopping up was a terrible idea. “Yeah, I am.”
When I pried open my eyes, Aiden was crouched down, hands hanging in between his bent knees. His face was lined with concern, but he made no move to touch me, thank the Lord in heaven above.
If I was this much of a klutz when he breathed the same air as me, I’d probably spontaneously orgasm if we made skin-to-skin contact.
He nodded, rising slowly as I stood off the mats. Bracing his hands on his hips, his eyes turned toward his daughter, still swinging her legs up on that steel beam like she was at the freaking playground.
“Anya,” he said, all steady and calm, but I saw the tension in his jaw. “Time to get down.”
Her chin stuck out. “I’m not getting down for you.” She pointed at me. “I’m getting down because of her trick.”
“Fine,” Aiden said evenly.
“Can I jump off the top?”
“Absolutely not.”
She sighed dramatically, but reached her arms out. He moved underneath the beam and as I watched those arms extend toward her, I felt this dangerous swelling in my heart. Something I didn’t want to touch or poke at, but she hopped off the beam with such ease, such trust, that I almost had to look away.
Before he set her down, Aiden hugged Anya to his chest, her skinny arms wrapped around his neck, and I saw him release a quiet breath of relief.
Instead of watching the scene in front of me, I moved my gaze to the floor and smoothed a hand over my now-wrecked braid—a fitting symbol for my bruised pride.
“Sure you’re okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“She’s not a good singer,” Anya chimed in. “She told me that.”
Aiden closed his eyes, while I … I tried not to stare awkwardly at his daughter because honestly, could this get worse?
“Anya,” he chided.
“I asked her.” She fiddled with the collar of Aiden’s shirt. “But I didn’t ask anything else.”
He gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.” Aiden let out another breath. He glanced around the gym. “There’s a class at six, right?”
Again, I nodded, because this was the signature move in the Isabel Ward library of reactions to this particular man.
“You teaching?”
Don’t nod, don’t nod. My tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth. “Not usually, but I’m covering for Kelly.”
Anya’s eyes widened. “Do you show people how to punch like my dad?”
Aiden’s mouth softened, but still … it wasn’t quite a smile.
Maybe this little girl with her strange questions and horrible love of climbing could help me ease my way into ‘normal Isabel’ around him.
I tilted my head. “Show me your strongest fist,” I told her.
She curled up her little fingers so tightly