“No, sweetie. That’s a bad word, and Daddy shouldn’t have said it. I take it back,” he says. “No cursing allowed.” “Are we doing this or not, Lansfield?” I ask. He rolls his shoulders back and crouches down. It looks like he’s about to snap a football. His eyes stay trained on me, and his wicked smile makes heat pool deep in my belly. “June, can you count down from three for us? Then say go.” “Okay, Daddy.” June holds her arm above her head. “Three, two, one, go,” she yells, and I take off.
