Page 65 of Hard
‘I could,’ I answer, realising this is absolutely true. I don’t think the thought ever occurred to me before now but, ‘Yeah.’ Which can only mean...
I lunge and grab the bowl from her hand, grapes rolling everywhere.
‘Not so brave now.’ For each step she takes back, I take one forward, the threat in my words and my smile wickedly wide.
‘Oh, no.’ Her eyes widen comically. ‘Whatever will I do?’
‘Well, I was trying to be nice, given you’re a wee bit sore. But now? Now you’ve had it.’
‘Not yet, I haven’t.’ She squeals, feigning left, then dashing in the direction of the laundry room. ‘Stop with the maniacal laughter.’ She giggles over her shoulder.
As I round the corner behind her, she realises her error.
‘Damn. You caught me. I surrender.’ Her words are husky and honeyed, her eyes burning bright. And never were sweeter words spoken as I push her against the dryer, hook my hand under her knee to slide her thigh over my hip, before kissing her for all I’m worth.
‘Keir. Keir, listen.’
But I don’t want to, lost to her lips, grinding up against her like a kid with his first hard-on. Until I hear the pitter-pat of skipping feet.
‘Daddy? What are you doing in the laundry room?’
I freeze—turn to stone. Sorcha’s never seen me with a woman. Not in the romantic sense and certainly not like this—half undressed and rubbing up against one another.
We spring apart, Paisley hurriedly working the buttons of my shirt closed. Meanwhile, I grab a bath towel from the pile on the worktop and wrap it around my waist.
‘She’s not supposed to be here,’ I whisper-hiss; my panic-stricken expression reflected in Paisley’s gaze. She looks kind of worried, too. Until I start to frantically look around me as though I could hide her somewhere.
‘There’s no way you’re getting me to climb into the dryer,’ she says with a chuckle. ‘And I’m pretty sure that’s the start of a cult horror movie.’
‘What’s a cult?’ says a little voice from behind. ‘Who are you?’
‘That’s not how you’re supposed to introduce yourself.’ I’m surprised when my tone sounds completely even. Normal, in fact.
I turn to Paisley as she rolls her lips inward, and I know what she’s thinking; it’s probably not the height of manners to be half dressed for a first meeting, either. With a comic widening of her eyes, she steps around me, holding out her hand to my daughter.
‘Hi, Sorcha. I’m Paisley. Your dad and I are friends. He’s told me so much about you.’
Over Paisley’s shoulder, I watch Sorcha’s gaze travel up then down, her face scrunched a wee bit as she tries to work out what’s going on. ‘Okay.’
‘Daddy, what were you doing?’
‘Well, I was... I was... ’ Chasing Paisley through the house with the intention of fucking her everywhere isnotthe answer.
‘What are you doing in the laundry room? Agnes says you didn’t even know we had one.’ Paisley laughs, smothering it quickly. ‘Have you been having a sleepover?’ Before I can deny it, she bulldozes on. ‘I went upstairs to look for you first. There were lady’s clothes on the floor.’
I try to read what she’s saying between the lines but can’t find any hidden meaning there. Hair band in her hand—they usually spend more time there than on her head—her long wavy hair falls from her shoulders, shining bright in the light. At least as bright as the sequins on her t-shirt.Sequined seahorses.That’s the latest fashion statement. A denim skirt, thick grey tights and pink boots that Agnes says look like she should be working on a building site.
‘Clothes?’ I begin. ‘Aye, well, they would be—’
‘Mine,’ Paisley interjects. ‘They would be mine. Because... because it was too late to get the bus home.’
A look passes over my daughter’s expression. One that says,I’m a child, not daft.
‘Tiger Blossom from school, her mum and dad are getting a divorce. She says her daddy has lots of sleepovers with ladies. Her daddy is a singer in one of the old-fashioned rock bands’—of course, he is. From all the way back in 2010, I’ll bet—‘and his assistant quit because she said it wasn’t in her job description to clean up the condoms.’ Sorcha doesn’t even come up for breath. ‘Condoms are things that stop people from having babies. But Tiger says her daddy can’t be using them right ’cause her mum just told her she’s pregnant.’
I don’t have an answer. Probably something to do with the fact that my jaw has unhinged and hit the floor. I pay a fortune for her to go to that school, and this is the stuff she’s learning? That’s just... effed in the a, to coin an expression.
‘So what are you doing in the laundry room?’ she asks, her cool blue gaze flicking back and forth between us.
