One Last Chase
“Daddy, who’s she?”
Bryce side-glanced his daughter, sitting on the patio of their two-story home. “She works at your Uncle Dax’s project.”
“But you know her, don’t you?”
“What I told you about eavesdropping over grown-ups’ conversation, Clarissa?”
“I wasn’t listening. I mean I couldn’t help it because she was pretty, but she looked sad, though.”
Bryce felt his cheeks were flushing. His child shouldn’t have been listening because they were talking about sex earlier, but Clary was like nothing her age—she never asked something about grownups. Still, he felt he was a terrible parent.
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