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“What? Why do you think you can fly?”
“Because I have my cape on.” That was obvious, right?
“Because you have your cape on,” he repeated.
“Uh-huh.”
“You think you can fly because of a cape?” he asked.
“Well, yeah.”
“Get in the house.”
“What?” she asked.
“Now.”
“But I have to try, Papa. Don’t you know how hard it was to put together that jump? I had to get the wood and the crates and set them all up and . . .” she trailed off. Wow, had he always had that vein in his forehead?
“Inside. Now. Up to your playroom. Strip and get in the corner. I’ll be in to deal with you when I’ve cooled down.”
“But—”
“Now.”
“I guess I’ll just go do that now.”
She wasn’t sure how long it took him to come into the playroom, but she felt like she’d been standing there for hours.
“Come here, Twink.”
Turning, she eyed him warily. He was sitting in the punishment chair. That wasn’t a good sign. He pointed at the floor in front of him. “Here. Now.”
Yikes.
“I was safe.” She dragged her feet as she moved towards him.
“You could have hurt yourself.”
“I had my helmet on.”
“It wouldn’t have stopped you breaking your fool neck.”
“Hey, that’s not nice.”
“No, what’s not nice is coming home to find that the woman you love is about to risk her safety by racing a bike off a makeshift ramp. What were you thinking?”
“That it would be fun.”
“No.” He slashed his hand through the air. “That is not to happen ever again, understand me? You will not risk your safety like that. Do you know how devastated I would be if something happened to you?”
Okay, now she felt pretty terrible.
“Well? What do you have to say?”
“That I’m sorry for worrying you, Papa.”
“And?”
