Read Online Season of Second Chances by Brighton Walsh - Free Book Online Page A

thigh, then immediately gripped his hand in both of hers. Claire was still clinging to the crook of his elbow with both hands. Turning to her, he smiled at the wide-eyed fear on her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been skating before.”
    She scoffed, and he had a feeling that if she didn’t fear ass-planting on the ice, he would’ve received another slug to the chest. “I was a beach baby, Logan. Sun and sand for this girl. You’re lucky I’m out here at all. I only did it for Sophie.”
    “I know you did.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for that. You’re her favorite person right now.”
    “Yeah, well, she’s got some crazy freaking voodoo or something.”
    He grinned at her deflection. The flush that crept up her cheeks could’ve been from the cold or his words, but he welcomed the response either way. She looked fucking gorgeous out here, with the dusting of snow falling. It caught in her hair, some small flakes landing on her cheeks. He wanted to lean in and kiss them off, especially when one settled on her full bottom lip. The urge to swipe it away with his tongue was nearly overwhelming. The only thing that restrained him was his daughter’s voice and the tugging on his hand as she impatiently begged to start already .
    “All right, all right. Jeez you’re bossy. Where’d you get that from anyway?” At Claire’s snort, he smiled and pushed off slowly, paying attention to Sophie to ensure he could keep his promise to her. Even with most of his focus directed to her, he was all too aware of the sexy-as-sin woman pressed up against his right side, stealing his heat and his safety.
    As they skated along, his two most favorite women in the world at his side, he felt the heavy weight of regret settle deep in his chest. All of this had been in his reach at one time. This was how things should’ve— could’ve —been for them. He could’ve had the Saturday morning pancakes in bed and the weekend ice skating trips and the quiet but frantic sex under the Christmas tree. Instead, he’d let it all slip through his fingers, and he hated himself a little more every day for it.
    * * *
    After warming up with a mug of hot chocolate once they’d gotten home, Claire sat barefoot on the floor of Sophie’s bedroom, allowing the little girl to paint her toenails. Sophie’s beauty case was nearly better stocked than hers, and she wondered how Sophie managed to sucker her dad into buying all this shit for her. Though with a man like Logan for a father—who, admittedly, knew next to nothing about the girly things women liked—he probably bought her anything to overcompensate for his ignorance.
    Their conversation consisted mostly of giggles interspersed with a surprisingly intense discussion on Sophie’s favorite Junie B Jones book. It wasn’t hard to act interested in what she was saying, because Claire actually was. She’d missed this time with Sophie terribly. When Claire and Logan had split, she’d already been gone for several months, and then her heart had been so broken over their ultimate demise, she hadn’t even really allowed herself to mourn the loss of Sophie in her life. But being with her now, utterly engulfed by her charm, Claire missed her with a shocking solidity.
    While Logan had lost Claire, she had lost an entire family. She’d grown to love Sophie as if she were her own, but it wasn’t like the non-parental exes got visitation rights after a break-up. She’d sent birthday and Christmas cards, but that had been where she’d stopped. Why prolong the inevitable? She lived two-thousand miles from them, and that was hard for an adult to deal with, let alone a child.
    Sophie’s giggle pulled her out of her thoughts, and Claire looked down at the mess Sophie had made all over her toes. “Sorry, I always get paint on the toes too. Can’t help it.”
    With a laugh, Claire brushed the long, dark hair away from Sophie’s face. “That’s okay, sweetie. I’ll