Hardwood - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,2

girls didn’t even know how to hold a hammer,” she stage whispers the last part, and I laugh again, this time a genuine one. Yup, there’s where my DNA seems to have kicked in. The kid has been a pro with power tools since she was six.

“I’m sure they were happy to have someone with so much construction experience in their midst then,” I say, and she nods enthusiastically.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” she asks. I sigh, but honestly cooking is the absolute last thing I want to do right now, so pizza sounds perfect. I’ll toss some carrots onto her plate too, so I don’t feel like the worst father on the planet.

“Sure, go get in the car,” I say, and she sprints for my car. “I’ll see you ladies later,” I call over my shoulder, glancing back to find Judy/Jody/Julie checking out my ass. Shudder.

Livi talks my ear off the entire drive home, telling me all the gossip about the other girls in her troop. Who knew eight-year-old girls had so much going on? Once we get home, I tell her to get started on her homework until the pizza arrives, and she only pouts for a minute before she dramatically drags her backpack to the kitchen table.

I pull out my phone to order dinner and then shoot a text to Val.

Everett: Parenting win for the night, she’s starting her homework without any kind of tantrum

Val: Wow, I’ll alert whoever’s monitoring for signs of the apocalypse

I smile and shake my head before closing the text thread and heading to my bedroom to get in a quick shower before the food arrives. As much as I’ve been dreaming about that bath, it’ll have to wait.

“I’m taking a shower. Don’t answer the door if the pizza comes,” I call out.

“I know,” she replies, and I swear I can hear her rolling her eyes from here. If she has this much attitude at eight, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to handle her teen years.

I crank the water up nice and hot and then strip out of my clothes, groaning as my muscles tug and stretch with every movement. Fuck, I could use a massage. I close my eyes and imagine a pair of strong hands on my back, working out all the kinks and knots. It only takes a few seconds for the G-rated fantasy to morph. Instead of a professional masseuse with their hands all over me, I’m lying face down in bed while they straddle me from behind and work their hands over my tight muscles, making it intimate instead of purely utilitarian.

I grit my teeth and shake off the image, sliding open the shower door and stepping inside so the water can wash away not only the sweat and grime of the day, but my errant thoughts as well.

It’s been five years since my divorce. and my right hand is the only action I’ve gotten since then. Actually, it’s been longer than that. Take Livi’s age, add nine more months and that’s how long it’s been since I’ve gotten off with another person.

The guys ask me about it constantly, why I haven’t dated, why I don’t seem to show any interest in getting back out there. Val asks too. I can see the guilt in her eyes every time the subject of her boyfriend comes up. But it’s not that simple.

I make quick work of soaping up and rinsing off, then I shut off the shower and hurry through drying off and getting dressed as well. As I pass through my bedroom on my way back out to the kitchen, I’m sorely tempted to flop down on the bed and call it a night. If Livi wasn’t with me this week I would probably do just that.

“How’s the homework coming?” I ask.

“Bad,” she says with a groan.

“Let’s have a look.” I pull out the chair next to her and have a seat so I can see what she’s working on. It looks like some pretty basic times tables, so I do my best to explain it to her.

“That’s not how Jeff told me to do it,” she argues.

“Then do it how Jeff told you to do it,” I say, waving at the paper in a be my guest gesture. I don’t mind Val’s boyfriend—I honestly don’t. And if Livi is so sure his way is the right way, I’m not about to argue with her.

After a few more minutes of frustration, she looks at